The Man of the Moment

Chapter One: The Boy Becomes a Man

Harry stood in his pyjamas and looked at his reflection in the full-length mirror of his bedroom at number four, Privet Drive. He didn't look any different than yesterday, nor did he really feel any different. Yet the letters he held in his hands announced otherwise.

Dear Mr. Harry James Potter,

On behalf of the Ministry for Magic, we wish to congratulate you on reaching your seventeenth birthday, and therefore becoming an adult, in the eyes of the law. As a legal adult, you are no longer subject to the rules of underage magic, and are therefore free to use magic to aid and assist you throughout your day-to-day life.

You are subject to the laws and by-laws of our nation, and use of certain spells at certain times will lead to prosecution. Please ensure you read the accompanying leaflet; 'Your Magical Rights- What's Legal, What's Not', for further clarification.

Yours Sincerely,

Arthur Weasley, Minister for Magic

Underneath this was a hand written message:

Congratulations, Harry, hope you have an excellent birthday- Arthur

Harry smiled. He had heard from Ron already that his father had been voted in as the new Minister for Magic, but this letter somehow made it so much more real. He smiled, and flipped to the next letter.

Dear Mr. Harry James Potter,

We would like to announce that as of 31^st July 1997, the trust left in the care of Mr. Remus John Lupin for you by Mr. Sirius Black is now available for you to view (although not to withdraw from), in accordance with the late Mr. Black's wishes. If you have any questions, please contact us at our London branch for further details. In the meantime, the said trust amount has been added to your Gringotts account as a frozen asset, due for activation on the 31^st July 1998. Please find enclosed the lease details for 12 Grimmauld Place, as instructed by Mr. Black (deceased).

Yours Sincerely,

Graham Iscariot, M.D. of the W.F.A.

'We help you Rest In Peace of mind

Harry didn't smile as much at this. It was true what they said- birthdays and Christmases were the worst when you had lost a loved one. He didn't feel as dreadful as he had last year, but Harry found he still missed Sirius. Save for the odd photograph, he only had memories now, but, he reflected, they were mostly good ones, in their own way. Besides, Sirius wouldn't want Harry to mope around on his birthday, especially when that birthday was his coming of age.

He flipped to the last letter.

Dear Mr. Harry James Potter,

You may already have won 10,000 Galleons in our Clairvoyants' Compendium prize draw!...

Harry stifled a laugh- it was still early in the morning, and the longer the Dursleys remained asleep, the better as far as he was concerned. That final letter was the one that had proven without a shadow of a doubt he had become a legal adult- junk mail and credit card offers were some of the many responsibilities one had to bear when becoming an adult in the Muggle world, he mused, and it appeared that the wizarding world was not much different. He was about to put it in the bin, but then he hesitated, and reached for his wand.

"Evanesco," he announced, albeit quietly. The letter promptly vanished. Five minutes later, no owl from the Ministry had arrived. Harry breathed deeply.

"I could get used to this," he thought, stretching his arms above his head. He took once last look at the skinny, short youth- no, adult, that reflected back at him, before pulling some clothes out of his trunk in order to get dressed.

He had opened his presents already- there was a time and a place to act like a grown-up, and the unwrapping of gifts was not one of them. He was especially pleased with Ron's once-again excellent choice in wizarding confectionary, and Hermione's book entitled 'Pass the Apparition Test First Time!' had certainly reminded him that he was quite desperate to take the test. Lupin's rather strange gift of a trunk with five different locks, each of which, when unlocked, opened a different compartment, seemed to be influenced by Mad-Eye Moody's own seven-lock model. Harry had already stored his mother's diaries in the chamber linked to the fourth lock, and the lease to 12 Grimmauld Place in the third, hoping he could take the trunk to Hogwarts in place of his old one- it would certainly make hiding some of his sensitive correspondence a little easier. He didn't relish the prospect of anybody getting hold of his mother's diaries, nor his letters from the Wizarding Financial Affairs company concerning the money and estate Sirius had left him. He especially didn't relish the prospect of anybody discovering any of the correspondence he could be receiving from Persephone Beauchamp, the half-sister with whom he had been recently reunited. If anyone found out that she was Snape and his mother's illegitimate child... well, he didn't really want to think about the consequences. Acute embarrassment from all parties involved was the very least of their troubles. Imminent death for both Beauchamp and Snape alike at the hands of furious Death Eaters was the very worst, and as much as Harry and Snape shared a mutual loathing for each other, he did rather like his sister.

At that moment, Harry heard a tapping on his bedroom window. Looking up, he saw a rather unremarkable looking tawny owl flapping in front of the glass, and he ran to undo the lock that kept the window bolted shut. On doing so, the owl flew into his room, dropped a letter neatly into his hand and, before Harry even got the chance to open Hedwig's cage to offer it some water, flew off into the distance.

"How very clandestine," Harry thought, before a frown pulled at his facial muscles. "How very much like the Brethren of Tyr!"

Eagerly, he tried to open the envelope, but it seemed impenetrable. He pulled out a pen-knife (another birthday gift from Ron, who had claimed he had bought it for Harry about five months ago, simply because he was legally allowed to, having turned seventeen himself in March) and tried to tear through the letter that way, but to no avail. He sighed, and inspected the envelope more closely. Soon enough, he spotted a circle of metallic blue ink, with the words 'press me' printed underneath in what looked like Persephone's handwriting, had she taken half an hour to write those two words. Gingerly, he obeyed the instruction, not quite knowing what to expect from his unruly sibling.

The envelope opened up before his eyes, and Harry was able to pull out the letter encased within. He squinted at the spidery writing- this was more like Persephone's hand.

Dear Harry,

How are things? I'm good- my field trip to the Ministry earlier this month was fun. I met many of the Ministry personnel, including the Head of Law Enforcement and the previous Misuse of Muggle Artefacts officer. I liked them both, but I'm glad the latter got where he is today, if you get my drift. One of our lot has been posted to fill his previous position- I think Arthur may well be expanding her office, though! Plus, he's taken the Brethren of Tyr off the Ministry's 'Most Wanted' list, which is good news for us all (I'm gutted we only made number twenty four, though- I presume the fact that Fudge thought us to be a myth had a bearing on that ranking).

Dolores Umbridge doesn't like me, I'm sad to say. Perhaps I'm being oversensitive, but I think it might be because I suggested she ought to be removed from her job as assistant to the Minister for Magic and side posted into Magical Games and Sports- what do you think?

'Operation Dog Star' isn't going quite so well at the moment. Arthur naturally agrees with me over the situation of Sirius' innocence- however, proving that innocence is becoming trickier than I first anticipated. Don't worry, though, I'll find a way, somehow. I did find records of your- ahem- misdemeanours concerning underage magic whilst conducting my research, though. I was reminded of those memories of yours- the one of that fat hairy woman floating through the air, and you lighting your wand when it was lying on the ground. I've got to thinking about that- I'll tell you more when I've spoken to a man about a job, as it were. Don't want to get your hopes up unnecessarily...

Apparently, Tonks was telling me, I'll be breaking the curse of the Defence Against the Dark Arts job at Hogwarts in September, all going well, of course. For the first time, you'll have the same teacher twice in a row- just so you know; I do accept bribes for good marks. Sorry, just joking, that's never going to happen. Plus, I can see you're pretty hot stuff when it comes to the old D.A.D.A., and most of your class fare really well too, which does mean I'm going to be working your little noses to the grindstone, so be warned!

Oh yes, that other thing- Happy Birthday! My, my- Little H has become a man. I'm going to have to revise my nickname for you, aren't I? Anyway, I thought I'd pop round later on to give you your present in person- and you'd better like it, because it was rather tricky to get hold of! Don't worry about your Aunt and Uncle throwing a tantrum at some uninvited witch entering their house- I've got that all sorted, you just wait and see. It'll be tip-top fun, I'll tell you that for nothing.

See you soon,

Love, Persephone

X x x

Harry sniggered, though he knew he should be more concerned. Although he knew Persephone to be one of two Heads of Information for the Brethren of Tyr, and part of her job description involved infiltrating numerous organisations and gangs, he still dreaded to think what Persephone had cooked up for her upcoming little visit. She did seem to have a knack for getting right into the thick of any havoc that might be occurring within the vicinity, and enjoying it.

Looking across at his new five-lock trunk, Harry remembered she did have a knack for giving out useful advice, too. She had told him earlier this year that he ought to forget about his mother's relationship with his most hated teacher at Hogwarts, else he'd most likely drive himself up the wall. And, in a manner hardly befitting his new adult status, he was going to ignore her wise counsel.

Unlocking the trunk, he justified his actions. He really did need to know what happened, not just with Snape, but also with his dad, with her friends... he just needed to know something about his mother. His Aunt Petunia was unlikely to know anything about Lily Potter's life as a witch, and if she did, she'd hardly share it with him. He lifted out the thin red volume dated '1974-1975' and flicked through the pages, until he came to the bit he had been unable to read for the past few months.

06/01/75

It took me all day to find the bastard! That's just typical of boys; they're just never around when you want them. I took the test this morning- I'd been putting it off all through the holidays, but the weight I've gained on my stomach I just knew had nothing to do with over-indulgence during Christmas, and that pink stick staring me in the face merely confirmed it. I'm pregnant. At fifteen. What the hell is going to happen to me? Do people ever get pregnant at fifteen? What do they do about it here? I know my mum would do her nut if I told her, but maybe they're even worse here in the wizarding world! Perhaps I should just drink some gin and take a hot bath... except I'm too young to buy alcohol. Where's the logic in that? I'm too young to drink, but I'm apparently old enough to bring a life into the world.

I considered not telling Severus. I suppose I could have got rid of it- checked into some Muggle clinic and had the whole thing taken care of, with nobody being any the wiser. But I don't know- I felt he ought to know. I'm not sure if I wanted to punish him, or let him know he'd got me into this mess too, but I resolved to find him and tell him.

It took long enough, I can tell you. I eventually found him after dinner, and told him I needed to speak with him in private. He grumpily agreed, and kept rubbing his temples as though he were suffering from a migraine. I studied him as he walked outside; his shoulders hunched as though he were ashamed of his height, and I wondered what on earth possessed me to sleep with him. I hadn't drunk that much, really. He sat down, leaning against a nearby tree; his arms folded, and stared at me.

"What do you want?" he asked, sounding rather sulky. I stuttered and stammered my way to an explanation- I just couldn't get the words out. They stuck in my throat.

"Look, if you've got something to say, just come out and say it!" he demanded, looking around nervously. It was as though he was scared people would see him with me. That gave me the push to tell him- if he's so embarrassed to be near me, see how he likes me carrying his child!

"I'm pregnant," I said, as calmly as I could. He stared at me for a moment as though I'd just spontaneously combusted on the spot. Then he rubbed his eyes, and stared at me again. He said nothing for what seemed like ten minutes. Eventually he managed to stammer out, "Why are you telling me this?"

I rolled my eyes- I mean, why did he think I was telling him- for fun?

"So, it's mine, then," he said. It sounded more like a statement, really, but it felt like a question to me, and I snapped at him.

"Of course it is! I don't go around having sex with every boy in Hogwarts, you know!"

He visibly cringed at this, and the look on his face made me feel sick to my stomach. He stared at the grass and wouldn't even look at me, and I just couldn't bear it, but I remained silent.

"So, what are you going to do?" he asked, quietly. I shrugged.

"Don't know. I can't exactly keep it."

He looked up at me on hearing this.

"It's a child, not a pet rabbit," he replied, viciously. I couldn't help myself, and I just slapped him across the face as hard as I could, and screamed at him. How dare he say that to me! As though I don't know how serious this all is- I'm the one that's carrying this damnable thing! I just want it to go away! It shouldn't be in me...

I don't know how long I ranted on like that, but eventually, he leapt up from where he was seated and grabbed me by the arms.

"Then why tell me?" he shouted back. "You've already made your mind up as to what you're going to do- why drag me into this? It'd have been kinder not to tell me..." He stared at me as though he were scrutinising my insides, and I felt queasy. His voice was quieter, but no less angry. "That's why you told me. You wanted me to know... you wanted to hurt me like this..."

"Oh, of course, because it's all about you, naturally!" I shouted back, but he cut across me.

"You wanted to rub my nose in it, and have the satisfaction of telling me, 'hey, guess what? I'm carrying your daughter, but I'm going to kill her!' Don't you dare talk to me about selfishness!"

He tried to storm off, but I stopped him. Not because I was angry at him- even though I was- but because of two words. Daughter. Her. How could he know it was a girl? How could he know that, when I didn't?

He tried to wriggle out of the question, but eventually he sat back down and admitted to me he had been learning Legilmency from a book he'd borrowed from home. The problem was, he had got to the stage where he could perform it, but was having difficulty controlling it.

"I can sense her in there," he whispered. "She's just a blob of cells at the moment, really, but I can just tell she's going to be a girl."

We sat in silence for a while after that. In spite of myself, I kind of felt guilty for having wanted to get rid of her. In fact, I wasn't sure now if I did, after hearing that. Knowing there's a little girl inside... somehow it makes it all more real.

"What are we going to do?" I sighed. "If I carry this baby, I'll get kicked out of school for sure..."

To his credit, Severus looked suitably guilty upon hearing this.

"I... I'm sorry. I... I didn't really think about that," he whispered back. Then he fell deep into thought again, and I felt as though I was sitting out here in the dark all alone.

Suddenly, he clicked his fingers.

"I think I may have an idea... I need to speak to someone first; would you be able to meet me in the Ravenclaw Common Room late tonight? I'll explain everything then, once I know it has a chance of working."

I was very confused by this remark, but I agreed, and he gave me the password to the common room, which was 'Pygmalion'. Soon after this, he suddenly sat bolt upright, and tried to press himself flat against the tree. I rolled my eyes.

"If you're so ashamed of being around me, I'll just hide myself, shall I?" I remarked, getting up from the grass, but he grabbed my arm.

"Now who thinks it's all about them, huh?" he retorted. I glared at him, and he sighed, hunching up his shoulders again.

"Fine. I'm hiding from that Bancroft girl..."

"Penny?" I asked. He nodded.

"Why?"

His cheeks turned a deep red at this, and he coughed. "She... erm, well... she seems to be... She's got a crush on me."

I couldn't help it, and burst out laughing. Severus looked rather cross.

"Thanks, I didn't think it was quite that funny, myself, though I have had three months of it!" he spat back. I tried to wipe the smile off my face.

"I'm sorry, it just seems so odd, that's all... Are you sure?" I asked. He looked at me and pulled a face, then fished inside his bag for something. He pulled out a bunch of envelopes, which I took off him. There must have been at least six, and they were wrapped up in layers of spellotape, which I tried to peel off.

"Don't do that!" he barked, his eyes wider than two galleons. I stopped.

"Why?"

He looked really concerned. "Because, they have this tendency to open up and sing poetry at you! I'm telling you, they're spell-proof. This has been about the only way I've managed to keep them quiet. If I try to throw them away, they just follow me back! I've thought about burning them, but I'm scared they might release evil fumes!"

"Oh come on," I tried to encourage him, "they're probably sweet. I mean, six love poems..."

"Oh, that's just today's lot," he retorted, huffily.

"Why don't you just tell her you're not interested?" I asked. It seemed perfectly logical to me. Severus, however, just rolled his eyes at me in exasperation.

"Do you think I haven't tried? I tell her almost every day! I've said 'I'm not interested,' dozens of times. I've tried 'Just leave me the hell alone!' at least twenty. Most often, though, I just say 'no,' but she's more determined than Filch is in giving out detentions! I've tried almost every hex I can think of- I must have made her cry at least five times in the last term, but she still won't give up!" His voice was growing steadily more manic with every word, before he jumped up onto his feet.

"It's her," he whispered, pointing into the distance. He looked at me manically, and said, "You haven't seen me, and you don't know where I am! Please?"

"Oh, all right," I sighed, though personally I thought he was being rather mean to the little girl. The relief on his face was palpable.

"Thanks, Lily," he replied, "and remember, come and meet me in the Ravenclaw Common Room tonight! It'll all be all right." Then he ran off, presumably to find somewhere to hide.

I wish I could be as confident as him about everything being all right. Then, I suppose he's not the one that's got to carry this child for nine months, and hide it from just about everyone.

Then, and this was the best bit, I bumped into Penny Bancroft. She's in the first year, in Hufflepuff house and is quite a cute little thing, I guess. Well, she's blonde and rather small, even for a first year, and she was carrying some sort of pink heart-shaped pillow, I think. It had writing embroidered all over it, and judging from the sloppy stitching, I think she'd made it herself.

"Lily! Have you seen Severus at all?" she asked me, sweetly. Biting my lip in an attempt not to laugh, I shook my head and told her no. She frowned, as though she were thinking hard.

"Do you know where he might be? He is in your year," she said. I told her that, no, I didn't, but I felt so sorry for the poor girl that I suggested he might be in the library.

"Oh, no, he couldn't possibly be there," she replied, breezily. "He leaves the library by eight o'clock on Mondays, and he goes to the owlery on Wednesdays at around six..."

She rattled off his entire school timetable with ease, as well as where he spends his evenings depending upon the day. If only I'd known Severus had a stalker this morning- I would have found him in half the time if I'd struck up a conversation with Penny...'

"Potter! Your Aunt Marge is coming for lunch, so you'd better make yourself look presentable!" Aunt Petunia bellowed, from the foot of the stairs. Harry groaned. The Dursleys were clearly up and about, and what had started out as a fairly bearable birthday had suddenly taken a turn for the worse. His Aunt Marge was possibly one of humanity's greatest mistakes, and she was coming to number four Privet Drive. Just great.

He placed the diary back into his five-lock trunk and shut it away, before walking over to the mirror and attempting to brush his hair down. He knew before he ever started that the attempt would be in vain, and three minutes later he gave up. Aunt Marge would just have to accept his naturally wayward hair, and besides, he was an adult now. He could have scruffy hair if he so desired. Placing his hand on the door handle, Harry opened his bedroom door and made his way downstairs to face the music.

Uncle Vernon was wolfing down a cooked breakfast, but stopped long enough to accuse Harry of being a freeloader and not pulling his weight. Harry simply smiled a wicked smile.

"I could tidy up for you, if you like," he said, and pulled out his wand. Uncle Vernon glared at him with horror, as though Harry had pulled something completely different out from his trousers at the dinner table.

"You can't use that... that thing!" he barked. "That freaky school of yours would expel you!"

Harry looked Uncle Vernon in the eye.

"No, they wouldn't. I'm seventeen now; in the wizarding world, I'm a legal adult, and therefore perfectly within my rights to use magic whenever I like," he replied, sitting down and helping himself to some toast, whilst Uncle Vernon turned an odd shade of purple, and a small vein began to throb noticeably on his temple, though he remained oddly silent. On seeing this, Harry thought it best to keep quiet for the rest of breakfast.

"You just make sure you don't do any of that funny stuff under my roof!" Uncle Vernon ordered. Harry nodded his consent, but said nothing in return.

"Mum! Is my shirt ready yet?" Dudley bellowed from the top of the stairs.

"It'll be ready in a few moments, darling!" Aunt Petunia shouted back, as she hurriedly opened out an ironing board and placed a blue shirt across it that was so vast, it made the ironing board look like a tent. A small click indicated the iron resting on the tabletop had reached the required temperature, and Aunt Petunia grabbed it and pressed the fabric of Dudley's shirt with the speed of an expert. Harry watched her and couldn't help but chuckle to himself at what Aunt Petunia's reaction to her hitherto undiscovered niece would be if she met her as she was now. Somehow, he couldn't picture a happy meeting between Persephone and Aunt Petunia. Harry wondered if she had even known about his mother having another child. It occurred to him that he really didn't know how much of his mum's life Aunt Petunia knew about, or indeed, how much of Aunt Petunia's life his mum knew about.

Aunt Petunia continued to iron frantically at Dudley's blue shirt, her shoulders growing increasingly tense as she did so. Eventually, she turned around and glared at Harry.

"What is it, boy?" she snapped, angrily. Harry shrugged.

"Nothing," he replied, and continued to eat his toast.

A series of loud thuds echoed across the ceiling, then down the stairs. Clearly, Dudley wanted his shirt back.

"Is it ready, Mum?" he asked, running through the kitchen in his jeans and socks. Harry had to suppress a smirk as he watched the rolls of fat around Dudley's large stomach wobble with his every movement, as though he were a walking lava lamp. It looked especially odd, because from the chest upwards, he was a mass of solid muscle.

"If only he could learn to box with his stomach," he thought, maliciously. Clearly Steve, that savage part of his brain, was here to stay throughout adulthood, too.

"Not yet, sweetheart, just give me a few seconds..."

"But I need it now!" Dudley retorted, as though the ironing of his shirt was a matter of national security. Harry presumed he had a date with Tina, the girl he was seeing last summer. However, it turned out to be even worse than that.

"We won't embarrass you when Tina comes to meet us, sweetheart!" Aunt Petunia cooed. "Besides, she isn't due here for at least a couple of hours- you want to spend some time with your Aunt Marge first, don't you, darling?"

Dudley grunted something non-committal, grabbed his shirt off the ironing board, slipped it over his bulky shoulders and stomped off to his bedroom. Harry merely sipped his orange juice. So, Tina was meeting the family. It must be serious. He wondered if she'd end up dating Dudley long enough to learn of their shameful family secret of having a wizard in the family, and one that is on the 'Most Wanted' list of the most feared Dark wizard of the Twentieth Century. He couldn't help but smile at this.

"Get out, Tina, while you still can," he said to himself.

There had been precious little information of Voldemort's attacks on the Muggle news, though Persephone had told Harry that the Prime Minister had been in talks with Arthur Weasley. The decision to tell him had been one of the first Arthur had made when he stepped into his new Minister for Magic office, and it was this that had made Alex Ridley in particular, very happy indeed. The decision to make that information more public seemed to be one either not yet made, or it had been decided that- whatever the major luxury chocolate companies implied in their adverts- ignorance is bliss. Hermione had taken advantage of her subscription to the Daily Prophet by sending on the copies she had finished with to him, but there hadn't been a great deal in there, either. There had been numerous public safety advisory articles on what to do if faced with a Dementor, and emergency incantations to summon Aurors if you or your family are attacked by Death Eaters, but no real information on what Voldemort was planning. Harry supposed this made sense, really- why would you print your war tactics in a national newspaper, unless you were planning for the enemy to read up on them with his morning cup of tea.

"What are you doing, lazing about down here, go and tidy yourself up, boy!" Uncle Vernon ordered. Harry looked down at himself and shrugged.

"But I am tidied up," he replied. Uncle Vernon scoffed.

"Do something with your hair!" he retorted. Harry sighed.

"I'd been doing something with it for half an hour before I came down to breakfast, this is the best you're going to get, I'm afraid."

Uncle Vernon glared at him in a way that rivalled even Snape during Potions class.

"Get upstairs and tidy yourself up before Marge gets here," he spat. Harry shrugged, and scraped his seat back, before he got out of the chair and headed up to his bedroom.

"Like I'm really desperate to make Aunt Marge happy," he muttered under his breath as he walked through the doorway to the hall.

"What did you say?" Uncle Vernon bellowed after him, but Harry ignored him.

Dudley was leaning against the banister of the landing, a horrible smirk plastered to his face.

"I heard what you were saying to Dad, about being able to... to do freak stuff here now," he announced. Harry looked up at him.

"Really," he replied, with an air of indifference. Dudley glared at him.

"You're a liar!" he shouted, as Harry came up the stairs.

"I'm not, but if you wish to believe I'm a liar, I won't stand in your way," Harry continued, but Dudley blocked his was to the bathroom with his arm.

"Prove it," he threatened. Harry looked at him disdainfully.

"Shouldn't you be making yourself look nice for Tina? That must take a whole morning," he replied, acerbically. Dudley gritted his teeth in anger.

"At least I've had a girlfriend," he retorted. Harry smirked.

"Shows what you know," he spat back, "now move out of the way!"

Dudley smirked.

"Make me," he replied. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Fine," he said, and pulled out his wand, pointing it at Dudley, who eyeballed it with a mixture of apprehension and disbelief.

"You won't do it," he continued, though to Harry it sounded like he was trying to convince himself of that fact.

Harry considered whether he really should do anything, but seeing as Dudley wasn't about to move, he decided to do exactly as Dudley had asked. He did decide on using a relatively tame spell, at least.

"Rictusempra!" he commanded, and suddenly, Dudley doubled over in laughter, allowing Harry to get past. As he reached the bathroom, he said, "Finite incantatem!" as he pointed his wand at Dudley. The boy stopped laughing, and got up off the floor, an ugly look of fear and disgust in his eyes. Harry stared at him, then at his wand; he couldn't believe what he had just done. He had just hexed Dudley. Even Steve, that savage part of his brain, seemed to think this was a bad thing. Harry felt awful- he'd never willingly hexed anyone before. Well, except for those Death Eaters in his fifth year at the Department of Mysteries. Oh, and Draco Malfoy- but then he spent so much time taunting Harry, Ron and Hermione that willingly hexing him didn't really count.

"You really are a freak, Potter," Dudley whispered. An odd feeling in the pit of Harry's stomach preoccupied him for just a second upon hearing Dudley's words, and he realised he had been reminded, yet again, of his place as the wizarding world's last great hope.

"Believe me, you have no idea," he retorted, before locking the bathroom door and attempting to make his unruly hair stick down. It was a pity there didn't appear to be a spell that could manage that seemingly simple task.

Harry went back downstairs ten minutes later, with his hair looking exactly the same as it had when he'd gone up to the bathroom.

"It wasn't for lack of trying," he told himself, before entering the living room. Dudley stared at him, but said nothing, and judging from the calm demeanour of both Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, he had said nothing to them, either. He wandered past the television a few times, obscuring it from Dudley, who kept moving his head in irritation in order to get a good view of the screen.

The sound of a car pulling up outside the house, followed by the sound of yapping dogs and the click of high heels indicated to Harry that Aunt Marge had arrived. He felt his heart sink slowly into his stomach as the doorbell went.

"I'll get it!" Dudley announced, running to open the door. Harry rolled his eyes. Dudley was clearly in need of some money for some reason or another, presumably to fund his girlfriend's expensive taste in jewellery. Harry had spied Dudley wrapping up a heart-shaped gold pendant just three days ago, and judging from the grey security tag he had wrenched off the box, he hadn't acquired it by the usual methods.

"Hello, my darling nephew! Haven't you grown!" a familiar voice bellowed excitedly. Harry sighed. Aunt Marge was just the same as he remembered her from four years ago- large, beefy and moustached. She hugged Dudley, slipping him some money as she did so, and thrust her heavy tweed jacket at Harry before walking into the living room.

"Why thank you, Marge- though I think it might be a little too big for me," he called after her, determined not to call her Aunt Marge. Aunt Marge stopped dead in her tracks, and rotated slowly around to face him.

"Hang it up, boy! How dare you cheek me like that?" she demanded, turning a beetroot colour with fury. Harry gave her an ironic bow.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Marge," he said sycophantically, "I assumed from the way you just handed me your coat that you intended me to have it. If you'd just asked me to hang it up for you, it would have saved this rather embarrassing confusion."

He smiled, and made a great show of hanging Aunt Marge's coat up with loving care. She merely grunted, and walked into the living room.

"Hello, Petunia," she boomed, grabbing the woman in a crushing hug, and kissing the air next to her bony cheek. Vernon rushed to greet her.

"Hello, Marge," he boomed, hugging her with an equal force to the one she used to hug him. Eventually, they let go, and Aunt Marge sat down on one of the chintz sofas in the living room, taking up half of it with her impressive girth.

"I see that Potter boy has got no better- worse, if you ask me. I've only just stepped in the house, and he's cheeking me left, right and centre. You should be so glad you've got such a lovely boy in Dudley, Petunia," she ranted. Harry suppressed a snigger at this remark- Dudley the shoplifting bully, what a son to be proud of!

Petunia sighed.

"Oh, I know, Marge, but I can't just throw him out..."

Aunt Marge patted her frail arm with her huge, spade-like hand.

"You're a good woman, Petunia, you shouldn't have to be tidying up the mess your sister left behind. Don't worry, he must turn eighteen soon enough- you can kick him out then... oh, Ripper, do behave!" she barked. The aforementioned Ripper was busy trying to chew up the carpet in the corner of the room. Aunt Marge heaved herself out of the sofa with an almighty effort, and grabbed her walking cane. She grabbed the bulldog gently by the scruff of its neck and wagged her finger at it, all the while repeating, "Naughty- that's naughty, Ripper!"

She eventually let him outside into the garden, at which Harry almost sighed loudly with relief, though he caught himself just in time.

"He's getting old, you see, Petunia," Aunt Marge announced, sadly.

It was at this point that Harry noticed a much smaller dog, with white and black patterned fur, that was growling at Aunt Marge's heels. She took her walking stick and swiped at it.

"Gerrout of it, you nasty little thing," she ordered, but the dog paid no attention, and merely chewed her walking stick instead. She tried to shake it off, but the little dog hung off the end of her cane by its teeth. Harry tried not to laugh.

"It's a vile little thing, this one," Aunt Marge complained. "Nasty temperament, and a runty little thing, to boot. There were only two others in the litter, and they didn't survive. I think there must be some sort of inherited disease that affected them. Thought I'd see if I can hand this one over to the dog's home near you... Get off, you stupid mutt!"

The little dog caught Harry's eye. It stopped chewing at Aunt Marge's cane for a moment, then bound towards him. Aunt Marge laughed harshly.

"Let's see how you like it, boy," she spat as the dog careered into Harry's legs. Her grim smile soon vanished, however, as the dog leapt up happily at Harry, who knelt down in an attempt to placate it. The dog licked his face enthusiastically, before nuzzling his lap and curling up in a contented snooze, hiccupping occasionally in its sleep.

"Well, how about that," Aunt Marge commented, clearly befuddled by the whole affair. "The runty little thing's taken a shine to you. Like knows like, I see," she said, darkly. Harry bit back a retort, and instead stroked the soft pink belly of the little dog in his lap, and found the action soothed him.

Petunia got up out of her seat.

"Right, I'm just going to make some tea," she announced, briskly. "What would you like, Marge?"

"Oh, tea please, with milk, but no sugar- I'm sweet enough," she joked. Harry fought back the urge to dry vomit into the nearest receptacle.

"Vernon?"

"Oh, a black coffee, thanks," Uncle Vernon replied.

"Dudley, honey? What would you like?"

"Coffee with sugar, and some biscuits," Dudley replied, his attention fixed on the window, clearly expecting someone.

"Okay, sweetheart," Petunia cooed, before entering the kitchen.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door. Dudley jumped out of his seat, brushed down his shirt and checked his reflection in the mirror.

"Don't worry, darling Diddy, you look gorgeous," Harry remarked, blithely. Dudley gave him a withering glance.

"Just shut up, Potter- it's her!" he retorted. Harry smirked.

"Wow, you have psychic abilities, too?" he replied, sarcastically. Dudley glared at him.

"Are we expecting another guest?" he asked mockingly, before bending over so that he was face to face with Harry.

"Do anything stupid, and I'll beat you senseless," he threatened into his ear.

"Yeah, I'd like to see you try," Harry whispered back. Dudley simply glared at him and went to the front door.

Harry heard the door creak open, as well as Dudley's voice as he spoke.

"Hi Ti... Oh, sorry... who are you?"

"I'm here to see Mr. Potter. I believe your parents were expecting me," an all too familiar female voice replied, in clipped tones. Harry felt his eyes widen with horror. He had completely forgot, and she had written just this morning!

The residents of number four Privet Drive were indeed expecting another guest. Persephone Beauchamp.