"I do wonder why Albus didn't let me tutor you myself."
Harry groaned as he opened his eyes with a gasp, the moment he felt the cold water - a bucket-load of it, in fact - crash against his face. Subconsciously, he had expected it, having spent the past week waking up in the same manner, after all, not that it ever seemed to make the experience more pleasant.
This time, the rude awakening was coupled with the words of the culprit.
Emerald-green eyes swivelled in their sockets, landing on Alastor Moody's unpleasant visage.
"Maybe because you are too brutal of a tutor," Harry calmly responded as he used a nondescript black wand - one that used to belong to Cygnus Black - to dry his body.
"You're lucky I respect your future mentor," Moody said gruffly as he dragged himself towards the door, his prosthetic leg banging loudly on the wooden floor of Grimmauld Place. "I dare say he's worse than me when it comes to teaching."
"Fat chance of that," Harry grumbled as he pulled himself from the bed.
After Moody left, Harry in near-silence followed his morning routine, before finally leaving his room to go to the kitchen.
Of course, just like every single morning spent in the ancestral home of the Blacks, he was greeted by the pleasant smell of a traditional English breakfast, made by a surprisingly great cook.
"Oh good, you're awake," the cook, Narcissa Black, said lightly the moment he crossed the threshold to the kitchen.
Harry greeted her and immediately sat down to enjoy the lavish breakfast.
Overall, living in Grimmauld Place for the past week with Draco's mother was a surreal experience, to say the least. The moment they had returned from the Ministry after the battle, she had sat down with the Headmaster in order to discuss her change of heart, only, it wasn't much of a change in the first place.
Whatever demons had possessed Harry that day in Diagon Alley to approach her planted the seeds needed to make Narcissa wake from her dormancy and take the reins of her own life for the first time in many years. He trusted Sirius' and Dora's judgement and it bore fruit.
She no longer wished to be chained by Lucius and do the bidding of the deranged Dark Lord; especially since Draco had proven himself to be a lost cause. The final small hope that she had clung to was gone and Narcissa decided to act like herself for the first time since her marriage.
The final spark that ignited her actions was Regulus' appearance.
Speaking of Regulus, he was also living with them all in Grimmauld but was under a medical coma and the combined medical care of Narcissa and Andromeda since the fight in which he had depleted his magic and caused extensive damage to his body in the aftermath. Harry never got the chance to speak to him, but he had no issue with that. Sirius' permanent smile after he got his - sane - family back together was enough to make him happy.
Still, Sirius' happiness was nowhere near Kreacher's joy. Ever since Regulus had returned to the Black family home, the old, batty house elf had been on his best behaviour. Even the house itself had been thoroughly cleaned, giving the residents a proper glimpse of its former glory.
It felt like a proper home, for once. Smiles, banter, excitement and joy were the most common sights, along with Sirius' pranks - he claimed that he was too happy to not prank everyone - Nymphadora's arguments with her mother and a couple fights between Cissy and Kreacher because he always refused to let her cook, claiming that a noble Black shouldn't lower themselves to mundane tasks.
A loud pop was heard in the living room, surprising Narcissa so badly that she spilt the coffee she was pouring for Harry.
"Sirius fucking Black!" the witch seethed as she waved her wand to vanish the drink from the floor.
"I'm seriously not fucking any Black, that's something the last generation did," he responded cheekily as he took a seat next to his godson. "Alright, pup? Are you ready for today?"
Stifling a snort at Sirius' rebuttal and Cissy's murmured expletives, he wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Yeah. Can't prepare any better, I suppose."
"Are you sure you still want to do this? You don't owe those muggles anything," Sirius said with an oddly serious countenance.
"He owes them plenty of the darkest curses from our library," Cissy interjected as she sat down at the far end of the table.
When Harry arrived at Grimmauld and took Sirius aside to discuss his visit to the Dursley residence, Cissy happened to pass by the room they were in and she heard a single sentence spoken by Sirius.
"You were a slave to those muggles, Harry. You don't have to ever see them again."
It had sent Narcissa on a warpath and no one sane enough could keep Harry's past life secret from her. At first, she was merely cordial to Harry and paid him due respect as the recognised heir of the house, but that changed after that. She took it upon herself to show him how a son, nephew, or even a mere ward of a House should be treated. She proved to be a good confidant and a great friend to him - he would definitely call her his favourite aunt - in the short span of seven days. She was warm, friendly and caring but not overbearing or stifling.
Harry was also pretty certain that the fact she had more or less lost her son had a part to play in her behaviour.
It had been a pretty surreal experience for the young Potter, his newly christened favourite aunt being Draco Malfoy's mother. It only made Lucius' negative influence on his son more apparent.
"Both of you, please. I have made my choice. I am ready and willing to go see them today."
"Suit yourself," Narcissa huffed in irritation. "But I will let you know, if they even think of hurting you, I will personally come to collect their dues."
"Get in line," Sirius said in a low growl while a scowl marred his face. "If only I didn't chase-"
"But you did. It is already in the past, Padfoot," Harry interrupted as he slowly got up from the table. "You know I'm not holding it against you. If someone did what the rat did to my chosen family, I would also chase him to hell."
The animagus merely nodded as he got up to stand next to him.
"Is the mandrake leaf in place?" Sirius suddenly asked as Harry gripped his arm.
"For the last time, yes, it is stuck on the roof of my mouth," the boy answered with a roll of his eyes.
The elder wizard hummed non-committedly. "It just makes me wonder, how you enjoy your food with that destroying any semblance of taste."
And with that, the duo disappeared with a soft pop.
X
The incessant sound of spells being fired was leaking from the warded confines of the basement within Greengrass manor.
Ever since Daphne's - reckless, in everyone's opinion - decision to publicly ally herself and, by extension, her family, with Harry Potter, the Greengrass patriarch had spent every single moment of his free time between the Wizengamot chaos and his wife to train. He did not need to train, not in the traditional sense. The current World Duelling Champion, who had continued his undefeated reign in the international duelling rings for the seventh consecutive year needed no extra training.
Despite his fame and success, the formal, rule bound stage of professional duelling was not his preference. He had always felt restricted; in a way, it felt similar to the political stage in the sense that he had to conform and behave according to the rules and traditions. Stuffy duelling robes, spell restrictions, movement restrictions…
Things he didn't deal with when he joined the underground duelling scene. It was there, in the dark of night within concealed stages where Cyrus Greengrass could and would fight with his full arsenal.
He felt no real love for his multitude of official titles. He was proud of his public accomplishments - of course he was - but his real pride lay within his mask. The mask he wore as he terrorised participants and spectators alike as he danced around his opponents - the mask everyone involved with the underground scene would recognise as the one belonging to the Phantom Dancer.
Thus, he trained in the true sense, as if he was getting ready to fight on the underground scene once more. He trained using his full arsenal of spells and wide range of capabilities, honing his skill and proficiency over the Greengrass family magic in anticipation of the events that would sooner or later knock upon his wards.
An ethereal mist spread within the training room of the basement. As an unknown number of active training dummies rained spells on the dancing blur that was the Greengrass patriarch, who never once stopped weaving between the offensive spells. The motion was so smooth, so fluid that it actually looked like dancing.
To the knowing eye, Cyrus Greengrass actually was dancing - an aggressive form of waltz, in fact.
"Father?"
Almost immediately, Cyrus ceased his never ending dance between the incoming spells. Seven black bolts of magic left his ornate black wand, each of them landing on the head of each of the seven training dummies. He turned his head towards his eldest daughter who looked at him with a healthy dose of awe.
Pride swelled within his chest as he got confirmation that yes, he could still shock his children with his talent.
"Yes, sweetheart?" Cyrus asked gently as he walked towards her.
"Mother said that Aunt Camilla will be here shortly and that I was supposed to fetch you," she said with a grin.
"Am I a dog, or something?" he asked with a raised eyebrow even as he started walking towards the living room.
"I asked her the same thing and she said that you are, in fact, a dog."
His sapphire eyes twitched in annoyance. The cheshire grin on his eldest's face did not help his annoyance in the slightest.
"I'll have you know, I'm still the Lord of this House," he ground out through gritted teeth.
"Lord or not, you are still a dog, my dear Rottweiler," the pleasant voice of his wife, Isabella, rang out from the living room ahead of them.
"Will you please stop referencing my animagus form at every possible moment?" Cyrus grumbled, even as he wore his formal robe. He definitely ignored the giggles of his daughters - yes, daughters. Astoria had decided to just silently appear out of nowhere again behind him.
He had a suspicion that one of the House Elves was helping her in the stealth department.
"I will not. Now, if you're all ready."
Almost on cue, the floo flared to life and Blaise Zabini walked through, followed by a tall, black haired woman with severe features and hard, hazel eyes. A polar opposite to her sister Isabella, who was honey-blonde with soft, hazel eyes and of short stature.
"Camilla. Welcome to our home," Cyrus said with a flourish as he grabbed her hand softly, pressing a kiss on the back of it.
He merely earned a roll of her eyes.
"Cut it out, Cyrus. I'm your sister in law, you need not act this way with me."
"It's still fun to watch," Isabella quipped behind her husband with a cheshire grin.
The twitch of annoyance came back full force as he thought that his daughters got their mischievous nature from her. After all, his wife was the one who always convinced him to welcome Camilla DeLuca formally.
"I'm fully aware, little devil," Camilla said with yet another roll of her eyes, using the nickname she made for Isabella ever since they were kids. "I'm afraid, however, that I need to discuss some serious business."
The Greengrass patriarch straightened his back as the rest of his family - nephew included - fell silent.
"How urgent is it?"
The smile on Camilla's face turned feral.
"I was approached by some Death Eaters who tried to recruit me to their cause."
His heart dropped to his stomach. He barely registered his wife's gasp behind him.
"I refused, of course. The problem was that they refused to accept my denial."
'Oh no.'
"So, they're all dead within the burned remains of my house," the imposing woman commented lightly with a shrug. Cyrus sighed and rubbed his face with his hand.
"You need to hide, don't you?"
"Precisely!"
Cyrus lips stretched to a thin line and he managed to ground out some words through gritted teeth.
"Do you have to be so cheerful about that?"
He knew that the cheer was fake. He also knew that the delight his sister-in-law showed was for his defeated expression.
The DeLuca sisters always loved riling him up. He just couldn't be arsed to address that this was neither the time, nor the occasion to make fun of him.
X
A quiet pop was heard across the summer silence permeating Privet Drive. Harry eyed the brass four that decorate the front door momentarily, before his eyes turned to his godfather.
He didn't find himself surprised by the sheer amount of glamour charms applied to the man. Nor by the fact he looked like a blonde woman.
"A glamour ring," the man said in lieu of an answer. "So, you're ready?"
"Can't be more ready, to be honest," the Boy-Who-Lived shrugged. "And yes, I have the portkey you gave me. Since you won't let me apparate on my own."
"As I've told you multiple times over the past week, you are not remotely ready to apparate on your own. You can barely land inside the circle without missing a limb as it is."
"Yes, yes, I know. Now shoo. I don't want this to last longer than it has to."
Sirius shrugged and after muttering what sounded to Harry like 'good luck', he disappeared with a soft pop.
As he disappeared, he felt the notice-me-not charm dissolve. He would have been left in awe at the sheer speed with which Sirius deployed his spells, but was otherwise busy staring down the brown, plastic door of what used to be his prison.
Number Four Privet Drive.
Unconsciously his legs moved him forward until he was standing right in front of the door, before he checked his attire momentarily.
An emerald green waistcoat over a white buttoned shirt, coupled with black trousers and black dragonhide boots. All of the clothes were made of the finest Acromantula silk at his godfather's insistence.
He wanted, nay, needed to make an impact. It was as much a statement for the Dursleys as it was for himself. Despite everything that had happened, the changes he went through - both physical and mental - and his place in the wizarding world, a part of him refused to accept the change if he did not move on from his childhood home for good.
A sharp knock was heard on the door, the sound betraying Harry's determination, confidence and resolve.
"I'll get it," a baritone, yet youthful voice was heard behind the door, moments later swing open to reveal none other than Dudley Dursley.
As long as he could remember, Dudley had towered over him. Always taller, stronger, bigger in every sense of the word; his mere visage instilled a certain type of fear in Harry. His sneer, his mocking laughter, the provoking shouts signalling yet another Harry Hunt used to make the Boy-Who-Lived start looking for ways out and paths through which to run.
Yet now… Dudley seemed infinitely small compared to the real problems of his life. The fact that he had finally grown taller than the bulky blonde boy just added to that feeling.
A soft sigh escaped Harry's lips as he accepted the fact that Dudley was no longer a problem in his life.
"You're back," his cousin said in a low tone that lacked any sort of hostility.
"I won't bother you for long, Big D. I only wanted to speak to Vernon and Petunia," Harry said in a soft, calm voice.
"Oh," the blonde said. Much to Harry's bewilderment, Dudley sounded almost dejected at his answer. "They're in the living room. Wanna come in?"
"Yes, thank you," Harry said politely with a curt nod as he stepped through the threshold.
As the door closed behind him, he felt something akin to deja vu the moment his eyes landed on the side of the staircase and the little door of the cupboard that was once his bedroom. It felt infinitely strange, looking at the cupboard under the stairs from his current height. He knew he shouldn't be surprised by the fact he had actually grown - he hadn't slept inside the cupboard since he was ten years old. Moreover, it wasn't like he grew two feet over a single year, he had been growing steadily over the course of his Hogwarts years; the fact he had undergone a growth spurt over the last one shouldn't be surprising.
What had really changed was his situation. This was the first time he had faced the home of the Dursleys as a free, independent - at least figuratively, he still had his godfather babying him - man. It just wouldn't have felt the same had he returned here against his will.
Dudley passed by him and - much to Harry's bewilderment again - smiled softly.
"You, uh, drink tea or coffee?" the boy asked in hushed tones.
Harry stood there, watching his cousin with his eyes open wide in shock.
"Harry?" Dudley asked once more, having yet to receive an answer, despite the shiver that went through his spine as his cousin's glowing orbs gave the impression that they were piercing his soul.
"Coffee, please," Harry answered mechanically. "Three sugars."
"Alright, I'll bring it in," his cousin answered with a shrug and they both started walking.
"Who is it, Dudders?" the simpering voice of Petunia Dursley came from the living room. Dudley turned his head towards Harry who shook his head. With a shrug, he went to the kitchen as Harry stepped into the living room.
"Good evening, Petunia."
His aunt froze mid action, with her teacup barely touching her lips with eyes wide as saucers. Vernon, on the other hand, snapped his neck from the telly towards the voice so fast he probably had whiplash.
"You," the whale of a man seethed, making to stand, but Harry simply raised his hand and smiled.
"I'm not here to stay, Vernon. I'm only here for… a chat," Harry said pleasantly as he moved towards a free armchair.
"We were told you would no longer stay here. Why are you back, boy?"
"I am not a boy, Vernon. You will refer to me as either Harry or Mr. Potter," Harry answered harshly.
"Who do you think you are, you insolent freak?" The man roared as he finally made it to his feet.
His aggressive posturing was short lived however as his nephew's emerald pools flashed dangerously with green fire and a wave of something passed over him. Trembling, he sat himself back down next to Petunia.
"I am no longer the weak and vulnerable little boy you moulded to your whims, Vernon. I am my own man now. I am Harry James Potter, son of James and Lily Potter," as he referenced his mother, his eyes turned to Petunia who visibly flinched. "The Earl of Stinchcombe, Lord and Head of the Most Ancient House of Potter, heir to Sirius Orion Black the Third, Lord of the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Black."
"Oh," Dudley was heard from behind Harry as he left the coffee in front of him. "You're actually related to Richard Potter?"
"What?" Vernon spluttered.
"We had the House of Lords on our history finals," Dudley said with a shrug. "Richard Potter was the Baron of Stinchcombe, but the title of baron was first awarded to his great-great-great grandfather, or something, Linfred of Stinchcombe, who was a great pharmacist back then."
"He was a Potions Master and adept with Herbology," Harry said with a nod of his head. "He used to create potions for his neighbours, as well as various salves using medicinal herbs. It's all in my family grimoire."
"That's… Fascinating," Dudley said as he took a seat at another armchair near Harry. "I didn't expect that wizards were in the House of Lords."
"Many, in fact. Black, Greengrass, Malfoy, Ollivander, to name a few."
Dudley's eyes lit up in recognition. "Wow, that's a lot. I guess you lot are more involved than I assumed, since, you know," Dudley trailed off. "You don't see it a lot. Uh, you, I mean. Wizards."
"That's because we hide," Harry conceded, fully ignoring the fact that he had been completely derailed from his initial conversation. He also ignored the bewildered look of Petunia and the shocked expression of Vernon. "Something that started back during the Middle Ages, during the witch hunts."
"Ah, I understand," Dudley said with a nod.
"How do you know all of this, Dudders?" Petunia asked her son softly.
"Weren't you the ones that asked me to apply myself more at school?" the boy retorted.
"It doesn't matter if you are the son of the Queen herself!" Vernon suddenly roared, finding himself once more, as he got to his feet again, pointing with his stubby finger at Harry. "You will get out of my house."
"I have to ask, Vernon," Harry said calmly, turning his attention to his uncle, fully ignoring the finger pointed at him. "Why do you hate me so much?"
That simple, innocuous question seemed enough to still the obese man. Harry watched in morbid fascination as the man tried to think of an answer. Eventually he deflated and sat back down on the sofa which visibly sunk beneath his weight.
"Dudley? Maybe you know why you all hate me?" Harry asked as his eyes swivelled to pin Dudley down. Much to his bewilderment yet again, Dudley merely seemed confused.
"I don't hate you," he answered honestly, much too honestly for Harry to fathom. "I mean, I know that I wasn't the best guy to be around…"
Harry's lips stretched to a thin line and gave his cousin a deadpan look. Dudley chuckled uncomfortably.
"Well, yeah, I was the worst. I bullied you harshly, too harshly for it to be normal…" the blonde boy trailed off as if he tried to choose his words carefully. "I always was entitled. I grew up showered with gifts and praise and attention while you served at our beck and call… It felt as if I had a personal slave. I saw mom treat you like shite and dad abuse you and I always thought it was normal…"
Harry barely registered his Aunt's choked sob as Dudley laid his heart bare.
"If I was angry, I would take it out on you. I was even encouraged by Dad," he said with a shrug and a pointed thumb towards his father. "I guess things spiralled out of control when Piers and the rest were clued into your situation. You know how the rest turned out."
Harry remained silent.
"Despite all of this, I didn't actually realise how you were treated until…"
"Until what, Dudley?"
"Until I tried to get inside the cupboard," the blonde admitted with a shrug and Harry choked on the coffee, from which he had foolishly tried to take a sip.
"What?"
"Yeah, after you left for your first year, I was wondering why Mum and Dad kept you there. I always thought it was comfy, warm and full of toys. The truth hit me when I couldn't even fit through the hatch."
Harry snorted despite himself. Trying to imagine a round, ten year old Dudley getting stuck in the cupboard under the stairs was an image he never knew he needed.
"It was damp. Full of spiders and webs and broken toys, my toys. Still, I didn't think much of it until you returned for the summer. I thought you took all your clothes and toys and everything with you to that school, but then you came back and I still saw nothing that didn't belong to me, except your pet and your trunk."
Harry exhaled and fell back into the armchair, turning to look towards his older relatives. His aunt looked as if she was crying behind her hand, as Vernon looked completely resigned, absently looking at his son.
"Did you really have nothing?" Dudley asked with surprising softness.
"The only things I ever owned were your old clothes and old, broken toys," Harry said with a shake of his head.
"I, I thought…" Dudley started with uncertainty. "I always thought you were just… dirty, you know? I thought you simply ruined everything Mum and Dad bought for you. I thought they simply bought the same clothes with different sizes for convenience… How did you even fit in my huge clothes without tripping every time?"
"Years of experience," Harry said with a smirk, causing Dudley to snort in amusement.
"Yeah, I figure."
Harry drank some more of his coffee as Dudley did the same. He never expected that he would sit in companionable silence with Dudley, of all people, yet here he was - the presence of his uncle and aunt notwithstanding.
"What changed?" Harry suddenly asked.
"Hmm?"
"I mean, even if you figured some things out, you never stopped bullying me."
"Yeah," Dudley said uncomfortably. "I know it isn't an excuse, but it was a habit to treat you as I did. I grew up with that, you know? Besides, I pretty much stopped bothering you after your second year but… I was the leader of my crew. I wanted to keep an image, as foolish as that was. I was often urged by my friends to come bother you, chase you, bully you, just like every other time. I tried to stop it, but I accepted more often than I should have. I couldn't say anything to dissuade them and I wouldn't tell them the truth," he shook his head absently. "No, I didn't want to tell them the truth about your life here and I doubt they'd have understood either way. I'm afraid they will try harder to bully you if they know."
"I wonder why they're still your friends if they are as vile as you claim," Harry said calmly. Of course, he knew exactly how vile they were by now. "And trust me, they can no longer bully me. No one can, you included."
"Oh I wouldn't even try to bully you now," Dudley said with a shudder. "And they're not my friends anymore. Not really. They started doing some more… dubious stuff and I try to keep my distance. I'd rather not be involved with Piers' grand schemes."
"Good for you, Big D," Harry said with a slight smile. "But I still don't know what changed. Why are you acting so overly nice to me? How did you break your… habit?"
Dudley took a deep breath and turned his blue eyes to Harry once more. "After your third year, I vividly remember you talking to your owl. At first, I thought you had finally gone bonkers, talking to your pet."
"Hedwig is surprisingly intelligent and understands humans perfectly," Harry said with a chuckle. "Most magical animals are very intelligent."
"Yeah, I figured that was the case," his cousin said with a shrug. "Anyway, I started paying attention to what you said. You were saying something about remembering your mother from some Demented. That you remembered her death. But then you said that you cherished your mother's voice, despite only remembering her screams and pleas, as morbid as that sounds."
An unnaturally sharp intake of breath was heard from Petunia's direction. Harry ignored it.
"Then… We were attacked last year. I guess the target was you -" a snort escaped from Harry's lips unbidden. "- but I was also grabbed and you saved me. I remember the cold… the slimy feeling of something invisible grabbing me by the throat, sucking the air from my lungs."
"Your soul."
"Yeah, I figured that out when you told me," Dudley tried to deadpan but failed as his tone remained sombre. "I also remember the despair… the fear, the helplessness I felt. But other than that? Nothing. Some birthdays passed from my conscience, birthdays in which I didn't get as many gifts as I wanted, or some times when dad wouldn't buy me a toy, or when dad didn't buy me a bike when I was five years old…"
Harry was dead silent, so was Petunia. Vernon didn't seem to realise what exactly his son was saying.
"Harry, I want to ask you something."
"Go ahead."
"Do you have any happy memories?" the blonde blurted out and Harry raised an eyebrow. "I mean, with us. Before you, uh, left for your school."
Harry didn't answer, not immediately. He relaxed back in the armchair.
'It's surprisingly comfy,' he thought. It was the first time he had ever sat on an armchair inside the Dursley home.
He grabbed his mug of coffee and took a slow, deliberate sip. He momentarily marvelled at the taste, as he did not expect Dudley to bring him coffee exactly the way he drank it. Slowly, he let the mug down on the table and smacked his lips.
"No."
Vernon was completely apathetic. Petunia let a tiny sob escape. Dudley simply exhaled.
"Yeah, I figured. That was the point that changed me. I heard what Mum told Dad about the Dementors, how they guard your prison. I heard you say that they bring out the worst memories of the ones they attack. I'm not that dumb, I realised that you remembered your Mum dying when they targeted you. Whilst I… I only remember times where I didn't get what I wanted. And isn't that a wake up call, huh."
"Petunia," Harry suddenly turned his attention to his aunt, only to be interrupted by Vernon.
"She is your aunt. Speak better to her."
"I'm terribly sorry, Vernon, but she is nothing to me. Neither are you. You were merely the ones burdened by my existence. After all, I am just a waste of space. Isn't that right, Petunia?"
For once, Vernon didn't talk back. Petunia sobbed harder.
"Dudley just finished his opinion about me when I asked him why he hates me. Now, I want to listen to yours. After all, if you hate me for something, it must stem from you."
"I don't hate you," the woman whispered in a broken voice.
"Cut the lies, Petunia Evans. If you didn't hate me you wouldn't have raised me like a servant, you wouldn't have let your walrus of a husband abuse me and you might have even pretended to love me."
"How dare you?!"
"Sit down!"
With a slash of his wand, Harry sent Vernon crashing back down, sprawling across an armchair, breaking it in the process. Vernon sat dazed on the floor, the remains of the seat broken around him. Petunia shrieked in terror at the blatant display of magic and tried to move, yet found herself unable to even twitch her muscles. Dudley, on the other hand, merely looked at the state of his dad with sadness in his eyes.
"Do something, Dudley," Vernon said in his daze. Dudley shook his head, causing the fat man to redden in the face. "He assaults your father and you let him?!"
"I doubt I could stop him even if I wanted to," the blonde said with a defeated sigh. "But you still deserve it."
"What?!"
"I have seen you hit him with belts, your hands, I have seen you shove him across the house. I would say it's deserved."
"How dare you!? Did you do your freakish things on my boy?" The man seethed as he tried to stand up, but ultimately failed to stand as his copious rolls of fat dragged him back down to the ground.
"I have done nothing," Harry shrugged as he kept on drinking his coffee.
"Why didn't you love Harry like you did me? What did he do to you?" Dudley asked with genuine confusion. Harry side-eyed him but said nothing.
"I- I tried," Petunia started. "B- but then, the toys started floating. I still remember how- how he turned my dress pink and started laughing."
That only seemed to confuse Dudley further. "So what? You knew that would happen, didn't you? Your sister was a witch, right?"
"I- I was afraid!" the woman suddenly shrieked. "My sister was killed by a mad terrorist! The freak is all that is left of her! I saw what your aunt could do with her stick and her freakish talents, I knew what he could do to us! I- we tried to beat the magic out of him so we would stay safe! If the boy was a freak like the rest, then the terrorists would chase us too! Maybe the boy would turn his freakishness against us, just like he did now!"
"That's not all, is it Petunia?" Harry said darkly, idly noticing that Dudley had a look of complete bewilderment as he stared at his mother incredulously. "You were afraid that Dudley would grow up to be jealous of what I am."
"W- what?"
"Just like you were jealous of my mother."
"Yes!" The woman shouted as she miraculously stood up. "Lily, always perfect little Lily! Always perfect grades, perfect looks, perfect friends, perfect everything! Everybody loved Lily, while everyone ignored me! And then she suddenly has magic and is chosen to go to a magic school! The first witch in our family, oh it made our parents so proud whilst everyone forgot about me!"
"You thought I would be jealous of Harry?" Dudley asked incredulously, his expression the same as before.
"There was no way I would subject my son to that! I would not allow my son to go through what I went through!"
"So instead of loving both of us, you simply showered me with love whilst you treated Harry like shite?"
"You know, something you said before has me really confused," Harry suddenly interjected, pausing Petunia and her increasingly irate son. "You were afraid of what I could do to you, so your choice was to abuse me?"
The woman tried to articulate something, but failed.
"You decided to make my life hell, to make me hate you with all my being and make me wish you were dead every single time you opened your mouth because you were afraid of my power? Or did you hope that I would be too scared to retaliate?"
Again, Petunia tried to say something intelligent but resorted to a simple "Yes."
Harry would have been amused by Dudley's groan if he hadn't been as mad as he was. Slowly, he rose from his chair and flicked his wand towards Vernon who started floating towards the ceiling, shouting obscenities in the process. Emerald orbs glowed with eldritch power and with the following wave of his wand, household items started exploding and shattering. Couches, tables, vases, photographs, even parts of the walls themselves were not safe from the magical onslaught and the broken remains and assorted debris started swirling around the happy little family.
Dudley soon realised that whilst everything had been happening, he seemed completely safe in his armchair. A little bubble of protection from the swirling storm of magic.
Petunia was screaming incessantly, too scared to react and too weak to respond. Harry slowly stepped towards her, his eyes glowing and swirling like two mystical vortexes.
"You are a muggle, Petunia Dursley. Your husband as well, despite his obscene size he is nothing more than an ant. In front of me, you're nothing. In front of the might of magic, you're nothing. So tell me, do you understand how stupid you sound when you claim that you made me hate you out of fear of my power?"
"Y- y- you will b- be expelled!" Petunia shrieked with a trembling voice. "Th- the neighbours! They must have heard me by now!"
"I am a lord, Petunia. In the wizarding world, you need to be of age to become a lord. Even you should be able to understand that I'm an emancipated adult by now," Harry chuckled darkly. "As for your neighbours, don't worry. No one can hear you, even if they pressed their ears to the windows. No one can see you. No one can help you. I could get rid of you and no one would bat an eye. I can make it so that they wouldn't even remember you lived here. No one would even remember you existed."
And, just like that, the fight left Petunia's soul as she slumped down on the floor, finally ignoring the storm of debris swirling around them. In much the same vein, Vernon stopped struggling against the magic that kept him suspended in the air - merely trembling with primal fear.
Dudley, for his part, didn't move a muscle. People often underestimated his intelligence, but most importantly, they underestimated his awareness. He had realised by now that Harry did not mean to cause them harm. He only wanted to prove his point.
"Do you understand how stupid you sound, Petunia?"
A stiff nod was his answer and suddenly, the storm ceased as every piece of broken wood, plastic and porcelain clattered onto the floor. Harry let a breath escape from his lips as he moved his wand in an arc, the debris moving in unison with his will as slowly everything repaired itself. Vases took their former shape and returned to their former positions, plates were glued together and returned to their shelves, and furniture was sewn back together. After a few moments, everything was back to order, as if the whole scene had never happened.
Harry took his seat once more and sipped from his coffee, gently lowering Vernon back onto the sofa.
"I grew up wishing that you loved me," Harry started and Dudley winced. "Unfortunately, somewhere along the way I realised that you would never love me. I would never be enough to earn your love, no matter how hard I worked to please you. But that is all in the past now."
As he drank the last of his coffee, he flicked his wand and the cup floated slowly to the sink. He turned his eyes to regard the family he grew up with.
"I came here for three things. I wanted to get answers. Why did you hate me? Why did you treat me as you did? Why was I never enough? Did I do something wrong? Did I offend you?" A sigh escaped his lips. "I got the answers I sought. You were afraid. For stupid reasons, but fear is rarely rational."
Suddenly, Harry stood up and straightened his attire before plunging a hand deep into his pocket.
"The second thing I wanted to do was this," he said as he pulled a briefcase from his pocket. He placed it on the table and opened it, revealing stacks of cash. "One hundred and fifty thousand pounds. Consider my debt paid. The debt I owe you for… taking me in and raising me."
Petunia's eyes widened as Dudley choked on his own coffee. Vernon eyed him suspiciously.
"Where did you steal this from?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "I have enough money to buy you, Vernon. Did you think that the lord of a house dating back to the twelfth century had no money in his vaults?"
"And why are you giving this to us?"
"I'm giving you this so that you can leave," Harry said with a shrug. "You need to leave Britain, as far as possible. This is enough to cover any issues you might have finding a house, a car and a job."
"I won't leave my house, boy, who do you think you are to command me?" Vernon said without any real heat, having realised by that point that he could not act as he saw fit against Harry.
'Good.'
"I don't know if you paid attention, but the terrorist who killed my parents will look for me. Now that I no longer live here, you will not be protected by Dumbledore's defences. Of course, your wife should know all about that," he said with a pointed look to his aunt.
"He's right, Vernon," she said dejectedly. "As long as he called this place home, he would have been protected and we would have been too."
"See? She gets it," the young wizard said with faux cheer. "Now, you should take the money and leave. If you don't, I will just take it back to my vaults and pray that you die without pain, which I doubt. You are muggles, and the only thing Death Eaters hate more than muggle-borns are the muggles themselves."
"This is your problem, boy. You should be the one to take care of your mess and protect us," Vernon hissed with narrowed eyes to little effect.
"That's exactly what I'm doing, Vernon. I am giving you enough money to make sure that you transition to another country easily. You could also sell this house for any extra money."
"What about my job?"
"Your job will not matter if you're dead," Dudley suddenly snapped, finally out of his stupor. With deft movements, he closed the briefcase and tossed it to his father.
Harry sighed. "With that done, I guess there is only one thing left."
With a sharp slash of his wand and a muttered Accio, the hatch of the cupboard slammed open and a torn, weathered blanket floated into Harry's open hand. He lovingly stroked the battered fabric with his wanded hand before carefully tucking it in his pocket.
"Goodbye Vernon, Petunia," Harry said with a curt nod of his head. They didn't grace him with a response. Dudley spoke, instead.
"Mum?"
"Yes?"
"If you and Dad died and Harry's mum had lived… Do you think she would have taken me in?"
Petunia seemed shocked at the question, but Dudley insisted. In the end, she managed a choked affirmative.
"Do you believe she would have loved me as if I was her own?"
"Yes," Petunia immediately answered with a broken voice.
Dudley's face hardened and he walked out of the living room, ignoring his mother breaking down in tears.
Harry followed his cousin silently and found the front door already open. Slowly he walked out and turned to face his cousin once more.
"So, this is it huh," Dudley said awkwardly as he shuffled in place.
"Pretty much," Harry conceded with a nod. "I'll see you around, Big D."
As Harry turned around to walk away, surreptitiously putting up notice-me-not charms, Dudley spoke.
"What am I to you?"
"What do you mean?" Harry asked with a frown as he turned to regard his cousin once more.
"You said that Mum and Dad are nothing to you. What am I?" Dudley half-shouted in what sounded like a hopeful tone.
Harry mulled over the question for a little while, trying to figure out how exactly he felt about his cousin, as Dudley waited nervously until he came to an apt conclusion.
"A misguided relative," Harry said with a thoughtful expression. "A misguided cousin. Someone who opened his eyes eventually. Maybe I could become friends with the person he became. Not right now though, certainly not at this point in my life. I hope you understand."
Dudley nodded solemnly even as he had a relieved expression. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. For how we treated you."
"It wasn't your fault, Big D. You simply followed in your parents footsteps. All kids do."
With those parting words and a muffled word Dudley failed to catch, Harry disappeared in a swirl of light.
As he closed the door, he vaguely felt something wash over his skin as the blood wards finally collapsed around them, with his parents inside being none the wiser.
The feeling reminded him of his freakish cousin and a soft smile appeared on Dudley's face.