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Chapter Text

On a chilly November morning, Petunia Dursley stood at her front door, her arms crossed and her expression sour. A basket lay at her feet, containing a small baby with a shock of black hair and a lightning-shaped scar bleeding sluggishly on his forehead. Next to the baby was a letter, written in a familiar hand.

Dear Petunia,

I know you never wanted to hear from me again, but I have no choice. This is my son, Harry. I've left him in your care because, if what we think is true, he may be a squib—that is, a non-magical child born to magical parents. We have another child, Harry's twin, named Charlie. Charlie has recently become quite famous in the magical world after defeating a very evil wizard, and James and I need to devote our full attention to him. We cannot provide the right environment for Harry if he turns out to be non-magical.

I understand that this may be challenging for you, considering your usual disposition and your feelings toward our world. However, I urge you to set aside your bitterness and see Harry for who he is - an innocent child who has done no wrong. 

Harry deserves a chance to grow up in a caring environment, even if it's difficult for you. Please, try to treat him with the compassion he needs.

He has nowhere else to go. 

We will compensate you for his care by depositing 800 pounds into your bank account every month. If all goes to plan, Harry need have no knowledge of the magical world at all. He can grow up to be as mundane as you'd like. 

I know we haven't had the best relationship, but please, I ask of you this last favour. 

Lily

Petunia was trembling with rage, fuming at the utter audacity of that…that bitch . How dare Lily, after all these years, assume she was incapable of kindness? The thinly veiled insults in the letter stung, and the implication that she would mistreat an innocent child out of spite was infuriating.

Why should she show love to the spawn of her hated sister, someone who was also possibly a freak? 

On the other hand, Petunia mused, Lily had given her the exact kind of ammunition she needed to hurt her where it hit the most. The child’s fingers and toes were cold as ice, yet she could feel the warmth radiating from his chest - and not the fever kind of warmth too. Immediately, the answer came to her - magic. Of course, it was. She had seen Lily do this type of thing during the cold months in their childhood home at Cokeworth, when their parents turned off the radiator far too soon to save some money. How anyone could think this boy with his unnatural glowing green eyes was non-magical was beyond her.

Fools, Petunia sneered. That’s who. Freaks who don’t have two brain cells to rub together.

"Who even leaves a baby at a doorstep in the middle of a November night?" Petunia muttered to herself, her anger simmering. "With nothing but a thin blanket to cover the babe?" She shook her head in disbelief. 

While the two sisters had once been close, Lily had changed over the years, and not for the better. She had become more intolerant and condescending towards anything ‘muggle’, and in turn, Petunia retaliated by turning her nose up at anything freakish. So now, Petunia had no problem spitefully thinking about Lily and her kind, as she lifted the basket and placed it on the dining table. 

As she looked down at the sleeping baby, her expression softened ever so slightly as she carefully covered him snugly with her warm shawl, making sure he was secure and comfortable, and more importantly, still asleep. 

How typical of those freaks to be so careless and thoughtless. In their world of magic and mystery, they probably never considered the practicalities of the real world. 

Well, Petunia would show them. Show Lily. 

Unimpressed with this whole charade and downright insulted at the assumptions, Petunia vowed then and there to raise Harry with a different purpose. Petunia was sure the boy would get a Hogwarts letter; she could practically feel the buzzing of uncontrolled magic coming off of him. 

Yes, Petunia plotted as she pulled out Dudley's old crib from the storage cupboard under the stairs, Harry would grow up knowing the truth about the people who had abandoned him for fame. He would loathe his birth family and everything they stood for.  

She knew power was everything in the magical world, and so, Petunia would mould the boy into someone far better and more powerful than they could ever imagine. She would ensure he surpassed them all, both in strength and in character.

Let’s see who has the last laugh, Lily. 

The letter arrived on a crisp, bright morning, slipping through the letterbox and landing with a soft thud on the doormat. Petunia, already in a foul mood, noticed the envelope first after Dudley brought it to the dining table and froze. The elegant script on the front, addressed to Harry, made her blood boil. Her heart pounded in her chest as she ripped open the letter with trembling hands.

Vernon, who had been reading the gas bill at the kitchen table, glanced up at his wife’s sudden and intense reaction. Her face was a mask of incandescent rage, her eyes wide with a mixture of fury and anxiety. "What is it, Pet?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Petunia barely heard him. Her eyes were fixed on the letter as she read the words that promised an entrance into a world of magic. She'd known Harry was magic, of course. The boy had been floating his favourite items – books, toys, sweets – since he was three. Messing about doing all sorts of odd things like making balls of light, unlocking all the doors in the middle of the night, jumping off the bannister to float to the ground floor. Petunia had to ban all sorts of horror and thriller movies in her home, lest Dudley get any ideas of Harry being possessed by the devil and run around screaming for anyone to overhear. 

She knew that his accidental magic was registered at Hogwarts; she remembered Lily talking about it once. But that meant Lily likely had known Harry was magical and did not come for him. Despite the complications this brought into her life, Petunia was glad. She'd grown fond of her nephew who always followed after her like a little duckling, just as Dudley worshipped his dad. 

Dudley, who had been munching on his breakfast, spotted the letter and immediately became excited. “Wow, Harry! It’s from the magic school!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide with wonder. “You’re going to be a wizard! This is going to be awesome!”

"Magic school?" Vernon yelped, as Petunia's cheeks grew pink in anger. "So, it has come then?" 

Vernon had initially harboured serious misgivings about taking Harry in, especially when he learned that the boy's parents were alive, and apparently rich and famous to boot. The memory of James Potter, that smug bastard, was still fresh in his mind—with a careless flick of his wand, the man had made Vernon spin uncontrollably in the air at his own wedding as 'entertainment' for the wizarding guests, as all of them bloody laughed at his panicked flailing, at his wife who was screaming in horror and fear. He and Petunia had been the only normal guests and no one, not even Petunia’s sister, had stopped him from assaulting them. Vernon still had nightmares about it, the nauseous, phantom sensation of spinning through the air, utterly helpless to do anything about it. The humiliation of being made a fool in front of so many people, the fear in Petunia’s eyes—those were things he could never forget.

It had been the first time Vernon had come across wizards and if he never encountered another again, it would be too soon. 

That experience had coloured his every interaction with the magical world, making him wary, distrustful, and angry. So, yes, Vernon had been very much against the idea of raising Harry at first. The boy was James Potter’s son, after all. Who was to say he wouldn’t turn out just like his father—reckless, arrogant, and cruel? 

Petunia had convinced him to give it a go for just one year, promising that if it didn’t work out, they could find a good orphanage for the boy.

But Harry, the little angel, had wormed his way into their hearts almost immediately. They had always wanted a bigger family but had struggled to conceive another child after Dudley. Harry’s arrival, though unconventional, had filled a void they hadn’t realised was so significant. 

Over the years, the boy had quietly carved out a place in his heart, proving himself to be so much more than the burden Vernon had once feared he might be. Harry was a bright, inquisitive child with a knack for finding joy in the simplest things, and that had softened Vernon’s heart in ways he hadn’t anticipated. 

Despite the bursts of accidental magic — rarely destructive, with Petunia or himself always on hand, soothing the boy down during his tantrums — Vernon came to see Harry as just a boy, not some harbinger of the strange world he distrusted, one whose laughter, along with Dudley’s, filled their home with life. His curiosity was boundless, and his determination to keep up with Dudley, despite their differences, was admirable. He was mostly polite, well-behaved, and always eager to help around the house.

Vernon found himself looking forward to their little talks, the way Harry would eagerly recount his day at school, the pride in his voice when he talked about his accomplishments, the way he would help Dudley catch up on his studies, despite being three years younger, and encourage him to score better in tests. It was adorable the way he’d toddle after Petunia, helping her in the kitchens and the gardens. He’d come to admire Harry’s resilience, his ability to face challenges head-on, and his unwavering kindness that was very rare in the world. 

Looking back, Vernon couldn’t fathom how he ever thought he could send Harry away. He couldn’t imagine his family without either his own son Dudley or his nephew Harry, whom he had come to regard as another son. He felt a fierce protectiveness for the boy, the kind only a father feels for his child. 

Harry's natural intelligence and curiosity soon became impossible to ignore. Teachers marvelled at his quick grasp of new concepts, his ability to solve complex problems with ease, and his insatiable appetite for learning. Promoting him to the next grade level early had been a temporary solution, but even that wasn’t enough to keep Harry challenged.

It became evident that Harry needed more - something beyond the standard curriculum that St. Grogory’s could offer. That’s when Vernon had started researching schools that catered to exceptionally bright students. He had discovered St. Edward’s Academy, a prestigious school with an advanced study program designed for gifted children. It was known for its rigorous academics, small class sizes, multiple electives and subjects that went beyond traditional curricula, and specialised teaching methods that nurtured the brightest minds.

It was also expensive - far beyond what the Potters' paltry contribution could cover.

The 800 pounds that the Potters had been sending for Harry's care had long since stopped being sufficient. The rising costs of living due to the recession had stretched those funds thin, barely covering the basics, let alone the special needs and opportunities Harry deserved. But Vernon had never expected much from James and Lily Potter; after all, they had chosen to abandon their own son on a doorstep without a second thought.

Vernon had quickly realised that if Harry was to have the life he deserved, it would be up to him and Petunia to provide it. So, when the money started to run out, Vernon hesitated only a tiny bit before dipping into the family's savings. It wasn't just about keeping Harry clothed and fed; it was about giving him the best possible start in life. He had even taken on more duties at work, covering extra shifts, sacrificing his own free time and energy to ensure that both Dudley and Harry had everything they needed. 

It was still touch and go for a while, so his darling wife Petunia dusted off her law degree and soon secured a position with the city council, working in administration. It was a blow to his pride at first, but Petunia, ever the practical one, had given him the proverbial slap on the head, reminding him that they were a team. She reassured him that it was about securing their future, not diminishing his role. She soon proved her worth in her workplace, shutting up the naysayers and earning respect from her colleagues while contributing significantly to the household income. Vernon couldn’t help but admire her determination and strength. It wasn’t easy for him to accept at first, but seeing Petunia flourish in her role and knowing it was all for their family made him appreciate the sacrifices they both were making. 

He’d always loved her catty side and their nightly discussions soon shifted from gossip about the neighbours to gossip and complaints about their office colleagues where they could vent frustrations, offer support, and celebrate each other's successes. Petunia had always had a keen eye for managing people and her insights into his office politics soon saw Vernon through another promotion and a better paycheck.

Their marriage grew stronger as well, as they learned to rely on each other’s strengths, finding solace and solidarity in their combined efforts. 

Vernon knew he would do anything to keep Harry safe, just as he would for Dudley. The thought of losing either of them was unimaginable, and the idea that Harry’s parents could have so easily left him behind filled Vernon with a quiet, simmering anger. Harry was his boy, and no one—wizard or not—would take him away. The very idea of losing either of them was unthinkable. So, yes, Vernon was very displeased at seeing the Hogwarts letter on his dining table and nervous about what it would mean for Harry. Would the Potters snatch Harry back from them? Would Harry want to go back to the Potters?

Meanwhile, Harry remained entirely indifferent as the strange letter lay on the kitchen table, causing a commotion among the Dursleys. He was too engrossed in revising for the upcoming maths test as he diligently flipped through his maths workbook, scribbling pointers and solving the problems with a determined expression. His focus never wavered from his book and notes, despite Dudley's excited chatter about magic, Uncle Vernon's nervous inquiries, and Aunt Petunia's angry spluttering filling the room. The idea of attending a magical school was far less urgent to him than the immediate challenge of outperforming that absolute tosser Granger in the upcoming test.

All Harry could think about was the shiny gold badge Ms. Lannard would pin on his shirt for achieving top marks.

And, of course, the satisfaction of seeing Granger's frustrated expression as she stood in the background with her inferior red badge for second place. 

“Is this really necessary, Aunt Petunia?” Harry asked with as much exasperation as he could muster for the thousandth time that day. 

“Hush you. Now stay still,” Petunia snapped as she buttoned his oversized shirt out of order, and further tousled his already messy hair. She had purposely let his hair grow longer than necessary and dressed him in one of Vernon’s old shorts, which were far too long for his height. The peeling leather belt wrapped around his waist twice, but it kept the trousers from falling down so it would have to do.

Harry turned to look at himself in the full-sized mirror and immediately grimaced. The mismatched outfit was a sight to behold all right. The old shirt was too big, stained and discoloured. The sleeves were hanging over his hands and the collar drooped awkwardly around his neck. The shorts were bunched up around his ankles with holes in them and the hem was frayed to the point of no return. His sneakers were scuffed and barely held together, their once-white colour now a dull, dirty grey. 

With his unkempt hair sticking out in every direction and the ill-fitting clothes accentuating his already gangly frame, Harry felt like a scruffy, dishevelled rag doll.

“But Auntie, I look like an absolute nob!” Harry didn't mean to whine, he really didn't, but really, what else could he do in his position? Dudley was laughing loudly at him, nearly falling off his chair from the effort, while Uncle Vernon had turned a bright shade of red as he tried to poorly mask his snickers into coughs.

Harry scowled at them both, huffing and pouting as he petulantly crossed his arms. 

Petunia’s lips twitched in amusement as she took a final, critical look at him, her eyes lingering on the bruises Harry had sustained from his recent altercation with the Polkiss boy while defending Dudley from that little delinquent’s bullying. She had left the bruises alone when treating him as it only added to the impression of neglect and mistreatment she was aiming for.

“This is how you will look when your parents come to fetch you to buy your magical school supplies.” Petunia resolutely nodded to herself, ignoring the boys’ eyerolls and her husband's incredulity. 

Of course, Petunia took every opportunity to lambast Lily and James in front of Harry. She made sure he understood just how terrible they had been as parents, emphasising their abandonment and their failure to care for him properly. "They were awful, neglectful parents," she had told him multiple times, her voice dripping with disdain. "Leaving you on our doorstep like that, with nothing but a thin blanket. Babies are fragile! You could have died right there in front of our home! They never deserved you in the first place."

Petunia was almost grateful for the chance to tell Harry these harsh truths. She wanted him to know, especially now that he had to meet them again. As the magical world called him back, she was determined that he would see them for the failures they were—anything but the loving parents he might have imagined.

“Umm… Pet, shouldn’t we show them how well we treat their child?” Vernon ventured cautiously. Although he rarely questioned his wife, he felt uneasy about this whole situation. While Petunia was normally level-headed, it was as if all her maturity and rationale was thrown out the window the moment the Potters, especially Lily, was concerned. He was just glad it wasn't projected onto their nephew, though this latest insanity was concerning. A plotting Petunia was a terrifying Petunia, he'd come to learn over the course of his marriage. As amusing as it was to see Harry dressed up in such an absurd outfit, he wondered if it was wise to give the impression that they were cruel to their nephew. “What if they call the police or something?”

He immediately regretted his question when Petunia’s blazing eyes turned on him.

“Harry was clearly magical, even back then. There was a reason why she left her son here and I will know it, one way or another.” Petunia hissed, “The Potters’ actions are suspicious, and I intend to get to the bottom of it.”

She turned her fierce look at each of them. “You all know what to do and you will play your parts to perfection, understand?”

“Yes, dear.”

"Yes, mum."

And most reluctantly, "Yes, Aunt Petunia."

Chapter Text

According to the letter sent by the Potters, which arrived a week after the Hogwarts letter, they would come on July 31st to meet Harry and take him for school shopping. The letter was formal, almost distant, and made no mention of the years of silence or the life Harry had lived with the Dursleys. Instead, it simply stated the time and date of their arrival, as if they were acquaintances fulfilling a duty rather than a family reconnecting after years apart.

The rather distinctive spotted owl had dropped the letter on their doorstep and flown away, leaving them no way to negotiate the date. Vernon was incensed, his face turning a blotchy shade of purple as he ranted about the Potters.

"They’ve got some nerve, haven’t they? Dragging the boy away on his birthday, no less!" he fumed, pacing back and forth in the living room. "As if they have any right after all these years! And without so much as a courtesy call to see if we had other plans. Not even a word about his well-being! Just a cold, bloody letter like he’s nothing to them.”

Petunia, sitting stiffly on her favourite armchair, pursed her lips in disapproval. "It's suspicious, that's what it is. They ignore him for years, and now, all of a sudden, they want to play the doting parents? I've been doing my research, Vernon. You remember when I went to the magical side and got those books? Everything is about how wonderful the Potters are, how Charlie Potter is the golden boy. But Harry? Not a word. It's like he's a ghost. There's something not right here, I tell you."

And Petunia had ventured into Diagon Alley—not out of affection or curiosity, but driven by sheer necessity and a considerable amount of trepidation. The magical world had always been a source of disdain and unease for her. But by the time Harry turned four, it became impossible to ignore the burgeoning magical abilities he exhibited. 

Unlike the sporadic, accidental magic he had displayed as a toddler, Harry's abilities became alarmingly intentional. He could manipulate objects with a mere thought, causing toys to levitate or warm up his room during the winter, all without uttering a single word. Petunia was certain that his newfound abilities were no doubt inspired by all those damn superhero comics and films he and Dudley were so obsessed with.

The Dursley household had become a hotspot for unpredictable magical occurrences. Petunia's china plates would rearrange themselves during dinner, Dudley's toys would float mid-air and enact stories and games. Even Vernon's prized collection of drills had not been left untouched, inexplicably assembling into towering sculptures of various shapes and sizes whenever the boy hadn't wanted to eat his greens and couldn't verbalise his deep feelings of antipathy for his food beyond a stubborn 'no!' 

These incidents, while harmless in isolation, painted a concerning picture of a child whose powers were both potent and uncontrolled.

Recognizing the urgency of the situation, Petunia had swallowed her pride and fears, and had ventured into Diagon Alley, a harrowing experience despite having been there before. The bustling cobblestone streets teemed with witches and wizards as they darted in and out of peculiar shops. Animals squawking and flying around, strange creatures pulling carts laden with bizarre items, children irresponsibly flying on broomsticks overhead, explosions or bursts of magic from some of the shops - it was as if every square inch of space was filled with movement, noise, and unfamiliarity. It was utter chaos and she was longing to go back to the normal world where things were sensible to her.

But Petunia needed books—parenting books, tutoring books, anything that would teach the boy how to control the almost constant magic he was doing, both intentionally and unintentionally. She eventually made her way to Flourish and Blotts, the bookstore she remembered from Lily’s stories. Once inside, she ignored the sheer volume of texts, overwhelming as it was on her poor nerves. Instead, she approached the clerk, a middle-aged witch with spectacles perched precariously on her nose, and awkwardly inquired about resources for managing young wizards' uncontrolled magic.

After a moment of scrutiny, the lady led Petunia to a section filled with parenting guides and educational materials. The lady also helpfully pointed out books for muggleborns, no doubt her muggle clothes giving her away.

Petunia soon found herself stacking the bottomless basket with books after quickly perusing them for usefulness. Each title she picked up seemed to address another aspect of this bewildering world she had reluctantly entered. She barely paused as she added more to the pile - every book seemingly more important than the one before.

She had also bought a stack of introductory books to subjects he would encounter at Hogwarts like runes, herbology, and the like. Harry was excelling in his normal studies, consistently outpacing his peers even in his special school, and Petunia wanted him to outperform Charlie Potter at every turn. What she wouldn’t give to see Lily’s face when Harry scores better than her famous son!

Petunia paused as she picked up A Beginner’s Guide to Potions and Remedies, long-buried memories surfacing as she ran her fingers over the cover. She couldn’t help but think of Lily’s friend, Severus Snape. That boy had been absolutely mental about potions, always going off on spiels about their usefulness with an intensity that bordered on obsession. Petunia remembered how he would babble about ingredients and brewing techniques, his eyes alight with passion.

One memory in particular stood out: Severus, reedy thin and irritatingly tall even at 13, blushing furiously as he shyly gifted a batch of potions to her mother to ease her debilitating period cramps. He had stammered through the explanation of how it worked and its dosage, insisting on taking it in an empty stomach before breakfast, all while glaring grumpily at Petunia who had been snickering at his embarrassment. The potion had worked wonders, and she had to admit, grudgingly, that the boy had a talent - she had used it herself many times.

Despite their rocky start — like the time Severus had dropped a bloody tree branch on her, and in retaliation, Petunia had pushed him down the small grassy hill and into the river, only to realise he couldn’t swim and then promptly fished him out — Petunia had been secretly glad that Lily had someone like Severus with her when she first entered the wizarding world. The boy had been fiercely protective and loyal to Lily, always looking out for her, always by her side. 

But as the years passed, Petunia noticed Lily began to drift away from Severus, gravitating instead toward the rich brats of her House, those arrogant Gryffindors who looked down their noses at anyone who didn’t fit their mould.

It was a shame, really. Severus had been a true friend, loyal to a fault, while Lily, it seemed, had let herself be swept up in the allure of popularity and status. Petunia’s lip curled slightly as she thought about it. It was just like Lily to forget those who had stood by her when things got tough. She had done it to Petunia, distancing herself in primary school once the praise for her red hair and beauty started rolling in, even when she was taking Petunia’s help to get ahead in her studies. Lily had always found a way to be the centre of attention, leaving others, like Petunia, on the sidelines.

And she had done the same to her own son. Lily and James had clung to their famous child, basking in the glory that came with being the parents of the Boy Who Lived, while they had abandoned Harry to fend for himself. Was it any surprise that she had done the same to her friend as well?

Perhaps she ought to contact him. But… no. She first needed to figure out his loyalties. She remembered all too well the heated arguments between Lily and Severus, those fierce exchanges that had grated on her nerves, especially when she was preparing for her university exams. The accusations Lily had hurled at Severus—how she had condemned him for befriending people who wished harm upon muggles and muggleborns; how Severus had pleaded and begged, but never actually refuted her claims, only defended himself with a mixture of frustration and hurt.

Well, there was nothing to be done about that now, so she put it out of her mind. 

As she perused the aisles, a particular set of books caught her eye: The Adventures of Charlie Potter: The Boy Who Lived. Flipping through its pages, she was struck by the glowing narratives that painted Charlie as brave and noble. Story after story celebrated his supposed feats, ridiculous stories of his fight against dark forces, of helping his father catch criminals, and his esteemed place in the wizarding community. Honestly! The boy was six!

Another set of books extolled the virtues of the Potter family, praising their bravery, their generosity, and their longstanding contributions to magical society. Harry’s parents were depicted as paragons of virtue, their deeds celebrated as the pinnacle of heroism. Charlie Potter, in particular, was held up as an exemplar of all that was good and noble in the wizarding world.

Petunia found herself unable to tear her eyes away from the glowing descriptions. But as she searched for any mention of Harry, her nephew, she found nothing. It was as if they had erased him from their lives entirely. How could they so thoroughly excise one of their own? The magical world lauded the Potters, elevating Charlie to near-mythical status, while Harry remained in obscurity, unacknowledged and forgotten. 

She bought some of those books as well. The Potters: A Legacy of Light and Bravery was a book that offered an overview of the Potter family’s esteemed history and supposed accomplishments. Petunia hoped it would provide Harry with context about his own heritage, despite her personal resentment towards the Potters. 

It also fueled a new kind of resolve in Petunia. She wasn’t just going to help Harry control his magic; she was going to ensure he understood the world he was a part of, a world that had tried to forget him. So, she added more books to her growing collection, books that would teach Harry about the different kinds of magic, the history of wizards, and the world that had turned its back on him.

Petunia didn’t do this out of love—no, her feelings toward Harry were far too complicated for that. But there was a certain satisfaction in knowing she was doing what the Potters, Lily especially, had failed to do. She was preparing Harry for a world that had ignored him, a world that he would one day reenter, fully aware of the family that had abandoned him.

And now as she waited for the Potters to arrive, Petunia cast a critical eye over her home and its occupants. They had celebrated Harry’s birthday with a surprise party the week before and had ample time to put the house back to rights. It had been a particular bit of genius on Harry’s part to move Vernon’s mother’s old moth-balled knitted blanket and a pillow into the cupboard under the stairs. “If you want them to think you’re mistreating me, why not go all out?”

Vernon, predictably, nearly had a conniption at the very idea, even if for show. But Harry had argued his point well, with a calmness and logic that Petunia secretly admired. After all, she had raised him to be smart, hadn’t she? 

Harry had pointed out that they were trying to sell a story, and after a fair bit of negotiation between Vernon and Harry, which Petunia relished witnessing, they had come to a compromise: Harry’s ‘bedroom’ would indeed be the cupboard under the stairs, but he wouldn’t actually be spending any time there. His real bedroom, which was comfortably furnished in his favourite colours and superhero characters, would officially become ‘Dudley’s second bedroom.’ 

Of course, Dudley was explicitly banned from breaking and entering on pain of Harry eating all his hidden chocolates, a threat that had made Dudley pale and nod in immediate compliance.

Petunia stayed far away from it. While she did privately approve of Harry’s thinking, she knew Vernon would be too happy with her for encouraging Harry’s more cunning traits. Besides, there was a certain satisfaction in letting Vernon and Harry work things out between them. It wasn’t often that Vernon met his match in a battle of stubbornness, and Petunia was secretly pleased to see Harry had inherited some of her own shrewdness.

The house was filled with the smells of Harry’s slightly charred cooking, with Petunia hovering around like a particularly large, overanxious bee, ready to swoop in and pull him back in case of an accident. It had been her turn to have a meltdown when Harry insisted on acting as if he had been cooking for them all this time and had been starved as punishment.

When she had vehemently refused, Harry had once again calmly presented his case, laying out his arguments with the precision of a seasoned debater. He pointed out how the Potters might find it suspicious if he appeared too well cared for, considering how they had abandoned him for years. The boy was disturbingly persuasive, his green eyes sharp with a keen understanding far beyond his age.

Vernon looked particularly satisfied at her burgeoning incredulity and indignation now that the tables were turned. It was a rare moment where she found herself outnumbered and he seemed to take a certain twisted pleasure in watching her squirm under the pressure of her own moral compass, especially when she was being outmanoeuvred by a child.

In the end, she had reluctantly agreed, shooting daggers at Vernon as he smirked at her.

Petunia’s reluctance was deeply rooted in her past. She would never starve a child no matter what, simply because it had been what her father did to her. Arnold Evans, a squib who never revealed the family he was casted out of, was not pleased when his first child did not show signs of magic. He had heard of scientific research from America that claimed fresh blood would make magic bloom and had married her muggle mother in hopes of having a magical child and being welcomed back into his family. 

Even after Lily showed signs of having magic, her father had kept quiet until she had received her Hogwarts letter. While he had never raised a hand to her, he made it plenty clear that he was disappointed and dissatisfied with her. It was a silent, crushing sort of rejection that shaped much of Petunia’s early life. Her mother had been determined to see her daughters succeed, and she had fought tooth and nail to ensure Petunia had a similar education and opportunities Lily did, despite her father’s indifference. It was only because of her mother’s insistence that Petunia even had the opportunity to study law, and Petunia had seized that chance with both hands, escaping the grim, smoke-stained town to carve out a better life for herself. In the end, it was that same magical world that her father loved and missed so much that caused her parents’ death.

The irony was not lost on Petunia. The world that had rejected Arnold Evans and cast a shadow over her childhood had ultimately claimed her parents, leaving her to grapple with a complex mix of resentment and obligation. It was what made the current situation with Harry even more intolerable, and the thought of being associated with such a world again filled her with dread.

The doorbell rang just as they had finished eating breakfast, with Harry volunteering to do the dishes to stay in character. After sharing a look with a tense Vernon, Petunia strode towards the door and pulled it open. Her voice was curt and her expression unwelcome as she greeted, “Lily. James. Come in.”

Lily, looking as beautiful as ever, her vivid red hair shining in the sunlight, gave her an uncertain smile as she entered first. “Tuney, you look well. You have a lovely home.”

James, dressed in a long maroon robe with moving patterns, looking like an absolute idiot in muggle Surrey, stepped in as well, scanning her home with clear judgement in his eyes. Behind them, a boy looking remarkably like Harry, except with his father’s brown eyes and mother's red hair, came trotting in, face screwed up in disgust as if her large 4-bedroom home was some kind of hovel. The absolute nerve!

As instructed, Dudley was sitting in front of the TV, happily chomping on his very large portion of crisps and ignoring everyone in the room. Petunia made a note to remember to take him to his football club more frequently. “Dudley dear, get your father, would you, sweetie?” she called out without introducing them, and despite his obvious curiosity, Dudley obediently got up and went into the dining room. 

Vernon came in right on cue with the nasty expression he used on men who couldn’t keep their wandering hands off his wife. “So you have finally come to take him, then? After dumping him on us for years?”

Lily’s determined smile faltered at Vernon’s harsh words. “It wasn’t like that, Vernon. We… we thought it would be safer for him here, away from everything.”

James, on the other hand, didn’t even bother with pleasantries. “We did what was best for Harry,” he said, his voice dripping with arrogance. “But now it’s time he comes with us, where he belongs.”

Petunia’s eyes narrowed. “Belongs? You think he belongs with you after all these years? The boy has been here, in our care, and not a word from you until now.” She glanced at the boy standing beside James, his sneer deepening as he surveyed their home. “And who might this be?”

“This is our son, Charlie,” Lily laid an arm across the boy’s shoulder, pride radiating from her in waves. It set Petunia’s teeth on edge. “Charlie, say hello to your aunt and uncle.”

Charlie barely managed a nod, his expression making it clear that he didn’t think much of the people in front of him. “Nice to meet you,” he muttered, though it was obvious he didn’t mean it.

Vernon folded his arms across his chest, glaring at the Potters. “So, what’s your plan, then? Just waltz in here, take the boy, and pretend the last decade never happened?”

James gave a dismissive wave. “We’ll sort things out. Harry will get everything he needs at Hogwarts, and he’ll adjust just fine.”

“No.” Vernon declared with narrowed eyes, “The boy stays here where he’s away from your freakish world and your freakish ways. You didn’t care one whit about him before, you don’t get to grab him away now.”

James bristled with anger and puffed himself up like a bloody bird about to fight for dominance. “You were paid for your efforts. Now that the boy has gotten an invitation into Hogwarts,” Here he sent a suspicious glance at Harry, who was now quietly dusting the shelves in the other corner of the living room pretending he didn’t exist, as if the 11-year old somehow managed to cheat the centuries old system, “he will be with his kind - wizards and witches of magical Britain.”

Vernon scoffed. “Paid a pittance, you mean? I had to put in my own money for him by the time he turned four. Did you think all the things he broke with his freak powers got replaced for free?”

James’ face twisted in disbelief as if learning something unpleasant. Did the man even believe Harry could do magic?

Petunia, with a sour expression, acted like she was soothing her husband down from his anger. “Vernon, perhaps it’s best that the boy goes with them. We’d be rid of him forever.”

She saw Lily’s and James’ startled looks and yelled out before they could respond. “Boy! Come here now!” 

Like an absolute jewel, Harry skittishly scuttled in, shoulders hunched in and eyes pointed downwards as if absolutely scared of her. 

She kept her eyes trained on the Potters and noted their shock at the state of Harry and then, comprehension bloomed on their faces. Good. Clearly, they now at least suspected he had been abused by them. 

“Hello, Harry”, Lily stepped forward with a warm smile. “It is very nice to meet you again.”

What an odd thing to say to one’s own child. 

“Lo.” Harry mumbled, eyes darting up at her and then back down immediately. His hands started twisting his shirt, clearly more nervous than he had informed them. Petunia folded her arms to stop herself from reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. She could see Vernon was restraining himself from offering comfort as well. 

Lily’s smile faltered slightly, but she quickly recovered, her tone gentle as she knelt to Harry’s level. “I’m Lily, Harry. This is James, your father. And this,” she said, gesturing to her son who stepped forward with a superior smirk, “is your twin brother, Charlie. We’re here to take you home now, alright? We’ll take care of everything.”

Harry blinked up at her, his expression carefully neutral as he nodded slowly. “If you say so, ma’am.”

James frowned, stepping forward to grip Lily’s shoulder, pulling her back slightly as he looked down at Harry. “You’re a Potter, boy. No need to cower like that. Stand up straight.”

Harry flinched but did as he was told, straightening his posture but keeping his gaze firmly on the floor. Still an arsehole, I see. Petunia thought as she watched the exchange with sharp eyes and gritted teeth, noticing the tension and the heavy looks exchanged between the Potters. 

Good. Let them feel the weight of their neglect.

Vernon, still bristling with indignation, crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, if you’re taking him, let’s get on with it. I’ve got better things to do than entertain freaks all day.”

James shot him a glare but turned to Lily, nodding curtly. “Let’s go. We’ve wasted enough time here.”

“Boy, take your backpack and get on with it.”

“Yes, uncle Vernon”, Harry replied in a meek voice before opening the cupboard door wide enough to reveal the blanket and pillow inside. The inside of the door had a large childish drawing of ‘Harry’s room’ on it, and Harry pulled out the ratty backpack she had bought in a yard sale two weeks back. 

Much to her disgust and suspicion, the Potters did nothing beyond sending sharp looks to her and Vernon. 

She had expected—wanted—Lily, at least, to demand answers, to confront them with righteous fury. 

The Lily she remembered was fiery, passionate, never one to back down from a fight, especially when it came to something important to her. But now, standing there, watching Lily say nothing, confirmed what Petunia had suspected all along: that Lily’s bond with Harry had frayed beyond repair. If the roles were reversed, Petunia was sure she would at least make some objections, even if to receive some feeble excuse. 

It made Petunia wonder if, perhaps, Lily didn’t care as much as she had once believed, or if the years had dulled the fire in her sister’s heart. It didn’t matter much either way, she supposed, convinced now more than ever that the Potters were not to be trusted with Harry’s well-being.

Without another word, Lily reached out for Harry’s hand, but he hesitated for a moment before taking it, his small hand limp in hers. Petunia noticed the flicker of hurt that crossed Lily’s face, but she said nothing as she led Harry towards the door. James followed closely behind, still brimming with tension, while Charlie looked back at the Dursleys with an expression of distaste.

As the door closed behind them, Petunia let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. The house suddenly felt emptier, quieter. She exchanged a glance with Vernon, who looked just as perturbed as her. 

There was nothing more to do than wait and watch.

Harry’s stomach was tied up in knots as he turned to look at uncle and aunt one last time before Lily pulled him forward. He had thought they would protest his ‘treatment’ by the Dursleys or make some angry remarks seeing his ‘bedroom’. He’d certainly opened the door wide enough for them to see inside.

But nothing. No concern, anger, or even a sharp word or two aimed at the Dursleys for what they would surely recognize as mistreatment. The silent disregard was even worse than any insult they could have thrown at him.

As they walked down the street, James started talking with so much cheer that it felt unnatural, “So Harry, there is a lot to get you caught up on. As long as you keep an open mind, there should be no trouble at all. Alright, kiddo?”

Harry nodded quietly which seemed to irk James as he reprimanded with a bite in his voice. “I expect a verbal answer, Harry.”

“Yes…Father.”

Valiantly hiding the grimace in his voice at how odd that word sounded in his mouth, Harry questioned, “So, where are we going now?”

James, seemingly pleased but still somewhat rigid, continued, “We’re going to Diagon Alley, the best shopping street to buy your stuff for school.”

Charlie smirked at him. “Stick with me, little brother, and I’ll help you out with everything.”

Seriously, not only do these people remove him from the family, but they also seem to be rewriting his place in it? Harry asked, irritated beyond belief, “I thought I was older, seeing as I was born on July 31st and you were born on August 1st.”

James and Lily stilled, surprise flickering across their faces and Harry mentally kicked himself for the slip. They hadn’t mentioned Charlie's birthday yet, so how could he justify knowing it without revealing Aunt Petunia had been to the magical world, where his twin’s birthday was plastered on book covers? Thankfully, James didn’t think too much about it and said firmly, “Charlie is my oldest son and heir. You would do well to remember it.” 

Harry simply rolled his eyes discreetly. Of course, Harry thought sarcastically, I’ll just tell everyone August comes before July if they asked.

Charlie puffed up with pride. “I’m the Boy Who Lived! Of course, I’ll be Lord Potter once Dad steps down from the mantle. That means I’ll have control over the family’s wealth, influence, and all the properties. I’ve been groomed for it my whole life.”

Harry glanced sideways at Charlie, barely suppressing a smirk. “Sounds like a lot of responsibility,” he said, trying to sound interested.

Charlie scoffed, clearly enjoying the chance to flaunt his status. “Oh, it is. But don’t worry, I’m more than prepared. I’ve been practising my spells and learning all about the family business. Plus, being the Boy Who Lived means I’ve got the magical community’s attention. Everyone expects great things from me.”

James, walking a step ahead, threw a condescending look back at Harry. “Charlie’s been given the best education and training. Your job is to catch up and not make waves. Listen to Charlie at Hogwarts and don’t do anything that tarnishes the Potter name.” He sighed heavily, “This would have been so much easier if you’d just shown some sign of magic when you were younger.” Or, if you had not been magical at all, went unsaid. 

Like it was Harry’s fault James and Lily were so incompetent and impatient to do away with him. 

Harry nodded curtly, his frustration barely contained. “Got it. Stay out of the way and catch up. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Lily made a sound of disagreement at his wording, but Charlie interrupted her with a cocky smirk. “Don’t worry, Harry. I’ll show you the ropes. Just don’t get too used to being in the spotlight. That’s my place.”

“Charlie, behave.” Lily lightly chided him with a smile, but it was more playful and fond than not. 

Charlie’s grin widened, clearly unfazed by his mother’s reprimand. 

They stepped into the backyard of Mrs. Figg’s house, pausing to briefly greet the old coot familiarly — aha! he knew that batty old woman was a witch — and without any warning, James grabbed him. 

It felt like his whole body was being squeezed through a keyhole, twisted and pulled apart, then shoved back together with a jarring thud. His head spun as if he’d been tossed headfirst into a whirlpool, and he crumpled to his knees once he landed, struggling to shake the dizziness and find his bearings. 

Bastard, Harry thought viciously as he violently emptied his stomach, deliberately aiming at James Potter’s shiny shoes. His father was an utter bastard. 

Chapter Text

As they navigated the bustling streets of Diagon Alley, James led the way with purposeful strides, his maroon robes swishing with each step, exuding an air of authority that demanded attention. Lily flanked him at his left, her charm on full display as she exchanged pleasantries with passersby, subtly steering conversations to highlight her son. Her smile was warm, her tone honeyed, effortlessly drawing people’s admiration toward Charlie.

Charlie, positioned between his parents, walked with a distinct swagger, his chest puffed out and a smug grin plastered across his face. He revelled in the attention showered upon him by witches and wizards who recognized the Boy Who Lived. Every nod, every whispered acknowledgment, only seemed to bolster his self-assuredness, making him stride even more confidently through the crowd.

Harry, on the other hand, found himself struggling to keep up, forced to wade through the throng of people eager to catch a glimpse of the golden family. Feeling drained and increasingly irritated by the constant jostling, he didn’t hesitate to use his sharp elbows to carve a path through the crowd so he didn’t get lost or trampled on.

His family moved as though they were royalty in this magical world, and while they soaked in the adulation, Harry found himself feeling more like a shadow than a member of the Potter family. 

"Alright, Harry," James began, his voice brisk as he kept his pace, not bothering to slow down or even glance back at Harry, who had just managed to latch onto Lily’s outer robe to avoid getting lost. Lily kept shooting him irritated looks but Harry ignored it, trailing a few steps behind. "This is Diagon Alley, where real wizards do their shopping and where you’ll find everything you need for Hogwarts."

Charlie snickered at his wonder-struck look. "You’re going to have to learn fast, Harry. The wizarding world isn’t for the faint-hearted. But then again," he added with a smirk, "it’s not like you’ve got anything to live up to. Not like me, anyway."

Harry barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes at the braggart, taking in the sights with hungry eyes but feeling more out of place with each passing moment. “What should we start with?” 

James sighed with clear impatience. "Basic supplies for you, I suppose. Robes, books, the usual. We’ll be getting a wand for you both as well, though, don’t get your hopes up too much. A wand is for people who have enough magic to channel it through a medium, and frankly, I’m not sure how well you’ll manage. If you don’t find one, don’t worry about it. You can just go back to your muggle world and continue with whatever it is you study there."

“At this point, I would prefer it.” Harry resentfully muttered. No one heard him except Lily, who gave him an odd, pitying look.

“Maybe you should just follow me along and watch how it’s done,” Charlie added. “I’ve been coming here for years. Got everything down to a science.”

Lily nodded in agreement as James and Charlie took the lead in explaining the magical world to him. They prattled on enthusiastically, introducing him to the magical world as they saw it. But as Harry listened, he quickly realised it was their highly biased, almost fanatical view of the world he was supposed to belong to.

According to his family, the magical world was divided into clear-cut categories. Those who wore green ties at Hogwarts? Dark wixen, future criminals, automatically suspect. People who followed a particular religion? Dark wixen, to be watched carefully. Basically anyone who dared to disagree with the Potters' views? Dark wixen, dangerous, untrustworthy. The world they described was black and white, with little room for nuance or difference.

If it were up to the Potters, over half the population of magical Britain would be in prison.

Thank God Aunt Petunia had gotten him those books all those years ago, giving him a much broader understanding of the magical world. How horrible it would have been if he took their opinions as the truth! Harry couldn't help but wonder how the Potters remained so popular when their views were so extreme.

James continued, barely slowing down. “Ollivanders is where you’ll get your wand. And you’ll need a cauldron, basic potions ingredients, books on all the subjects, though don’t strain yourself too much. We know you're new to all this. It’s not like we’re expecting you to be top of your class or anything.”

It might have even been kind to hear if Charlie hadn't laughed at him meanly and their parents didn't reprimand him for it. “Yeah, leave that to me. I’ve already got a head start and everyone knows it.”

Harry tuned out their chattering, instead focusing on the magic singing around the marketplace. Aunt Petunia had described Diagon Alley as hectic and overwhelming, going so far as to have a spa day to soothe her nerves, but Harry thought it was beautiful. 

Diagon Alley was a sensory feast, unlike anything Harry had ever seen. The cobblestone streets seemed to hum with energy, leading the eye to shop windows filled with wonders. The shops themselves beckoned customers inside, as the shopkeepers greeted everyone with smiles and grand gestures. Every corner revealed something new and fascinating: a stack of spell books that rearranged themselves on a shelf, a cauldron bubbling over with a strange, iridescent liquid, and a broomstick floating just above the ground as if waiting for someone to mount it.

The noise of chatter, laughter, and the occasional burst of magic added to the lively atmosphere, making Harry’s heart race with excitement. The entire place seemed alive, vibrant with a pulse of its own, drawing him in with a promise of adventure and discovery.

If only he didn’t have to be burdened with the Potters’ presence, Harry would have said it was a splendid way to celebrate his birthday. 

"First, we’ll get you both new wands," James began, excitement lighting up his eyes as he looked at Charlie. "We'll have to send your temporary wand back to the Ministry, Charlie. So, we’ll buy you your first official one, and then you can help Harry get his books, robes, and potion kits while we pick up your telescope and pop in for a quick appearance at the inaugural event at The Enchanted Plate," James finished with a wink at Charlie.

“The Enchanted Plate?” Charlie’s face lit up with interest, then quickly morphed into a pout. “Dad, I want to go too.”

James chuckled, shaking his head. “Ah, but they’re hosting a special birthday event for the Boy Who Lived! I’ve been told the Weird Sisters have a special set they’ll be playing. Do you want to go today instead and miss your party tomorrow?”

Charlie’s mood instantly brightened, a wide grin spreading across his face. “No! I want the special event! But we’re still holding the yearly party at Potter Manor, right?”

“Of course, we are,” Lily chimed in, her voice affectionate as she brushed back Charlie’s hair. “We are the Potters, after all. The party celebrating your birthday is one of the biggest events of the year. How could we not host it?”

Harry looked on with disbelieving eyes. He had always thought his cousin Dudley — Dudders or Diddikins when Aunt Petunia was in one of her doting moods, much to Dudley’s horror — was a little too spoiled by his parents, though generally well-meaning. But Dudley had nothing on Charlie Potter. Charlie was showered with attention, his every whim indulged as if he were the centre of the universe. The adoration his brother received was in a league of its own. 

And that's not to even mention that Harry had still not been wished a happy birthday by his parents.

Lily placed a hand on James’ arm. "But we’re getting a little sidetracked, aren't we? James, honey, we should probably go to Gringotts now."

"Right," James nodded, rubbing his hands together. "Gringotts first. Then, shopping!" 

Charlie whooped in glee.

As they approached Gringotts, Harry’s eyes widened in awe at the towering white marble building. The goblin guards at the entrance, with their sharp features and even sharper weapons, made him nervous, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the grand architecture. The gleaming floors and high ceilings inside were unlike anything he had ever seen.

Harry stayed quiet the entire way down to the vault, listening to the echoing conversations of his family. His father’s voice was sharp and commanding as he barked at the goblin to hurry, and Harry couldn’t help but think how different it would have been if Uncle Vernon were there. Vernon would have been all smiles and effusive politeness, charming everyone who had a hand in managing his finances. 

But James Potter didn’t seem to care about any of that.

As they made their way deeper into the bank, Harry noticed a scant few witches and wizards who bowed to the goblins, thanking them for their time and service with gratitude and a brief word of thanks. It seemed a rare gesture, but Harry decided to copy them instead of following his father’s rather rude example. It didn’t cost him anything to be polite, after all. 

When the goblin leading them introduced himself as Master Griphook, unlike the Potters, Harry made sure to use the honorific and address him with respect, earning himself a raised eyebrow and a leer from said goblin — though it might have been a smile. It was rather hard to tell due to their razor sharp teeth. 

“You don’t need to do that, you know. They are meant to serve us. It’s our money that is running their business,” Charlie loudly advised him as he noticed Harry bowing to the goblin at the desk in thanks. 

Harry cringed at his brother's careless words and he was pretty sure he heard a low growl of irritation from Griphook. “I just don’t want to be disrespectful,” Harry shrugged, trying to downplay the situation, hoping Charlie would take the hint and stop talking.

The cart ride down was exhilarating, a rush of wind and speed that made Harry’s heart race, and they soon stopped in front of a big vault door. “Griphook, give the boys a charmed bag each. Boys, pick out the amount you’ll need for your shopping. Your mother and I will be heading to the Lord’s primary vault.” James instructed with a dismissive wave, playfully wagging a finger at Charlie, “Don’t go too overboard now, Charlie.”

Charlie’s grin was wide and mischievous. “No promises, Dad.”

As his parents disappeared down another corridor, Harry and Charlie were led to two vault doors standing side by side - one for Charlie, and presumably, one for him. Harry couldn’t help but wonder why he had a separate vault at all, given James’s obvious lack of enthusiasm or effort in making any other accommodations for him. The idea that James might have gone out of his way to create a special vault just for him seemed absurd.

They placed their palm on the door as instructed. “It will finalise your blood right to the vault and ensure no one can access it except you,” Griphook instructed, sounding bored. “The bag has an undetectable extension charm to hold the money. You only need to stick your hand inside and think about how much you want to withdraw it from the bag. Should you wish to retrieve money directly from the vault, you would need the permission of your Lord and it can be keyed into your family ring.” 

“My Heir ring is already keyed to my main trust vault,” Charlie dismissed Griphook’s suggestion with a casual wave of his hand.

James hadn’t spoken of getting Harry a family ring. 

Once the door drank in their blood, it shone briefly before swinging open. Harry stood frozen at the entrance of the vault, mouth gaping wide, as he stared at the piles and piles of gold inside. It was like something out of a storybook - literal mountains of galleons, sickles, and knuts, glittering in the dim light. Charlie noticed his stunned expression and couldn’t resist laughing. “Welcome to our secondary vault, Harry. I like to call it the fun vault. This is what it means to be a Potter, little bro.”

“What, swimming in gold like Scrooge McDuck?” Harry muttered under his breath, but stayed outside waiting as Charlie eagerly dashed forward, disappearing behind the nearest mountain of galleons.

Once he was sure Charlie was far enough away, he inquired, “Excuse me, Master Griphook, but I’ve only recently found out I have magic. Why do I already have a vault of my own?”

"Every magical member of the Potter family is automatically granted a secondary vault for their schooling years. It is encoded in the Potter family doctrine.”

Ah, that makes more sense than James suddenly doing something nice for him.

He resisted the urge to feel reassured by the wealth surrounding him. It wasn’t really his, after all. It solely depended on James and Lily still considering him part of the Potter family. If they ever decided to cut ties completely, his access to this vault — and everything in it — would be gone in an instant. They had already abandoned him once. Whose to say they won't do it again?

Harry had carefully listened to Master Griphook explaining the money denominations and he walked deeper into the vault, far enough away that he was hidden from view.

Then, with a sense of urgency, he began stuffing handful after handful of coins into his pouch, ensuring a balanced mix of gold, silver, and bronze, more than happy to test out the bottomless feature of this bag.

Who knew when, or if, he would ever again be allowed in here again?

Chapter Text

They next went to Ollivander’s and Harry couldn’t help but wonder if this guy was as good as his parents claimed. How could he be selling wands for years, making money for years, and still have such a dingy-looking shop? The place was cramped, dark, dusty, and smelled intensely of wood and varnish. Harry sneezed as his nose twitched from all the dust in the air. Didn’t they have magic to clean up the place?

As he rubbed his nose, he turned around to take in the shop’s odd layout. The inner corridors seemed to stretch on forever, lined with long, narrow boxes that were stacked haphazardly on shelves, covering every inch of the walls. There was something unsettling about the place, as if it was alive with a strange energy. Power seemed to thrum from the walls and from the wands themselves, and Harry felt a shiver crawl down his spine.

Then, from the shadows, an eerie-looking old man seemed to materialise out of nowhere, his eyes glinting with an unsettling light. Although he looked frail and weak, Harry could feel the power radiating from him in pulsating waves, rhythmically in tune with the power from emitting from the shop itself.

Oh, this decor was done on purpose to fool the customers, Harry realised. It was all an act. A way to make the shop seem more mysterious and magical. To edge out the competition? To get people to keep coming back with their kids over the generations? The shop did claim to be doing business since 382 B.C., so maybe that was Ollivanders' secret. 

"Ah,” the old man, presumably Mr. Ollivander, breathed out. “Mr. Potter, the elder. Eleven inches, mahogany, dragon heartstring core. Mrs. Potter. Ten and a quarter inches, willow bark, powdered ashwinder egg core.”

His pale, almost translucent eyes then shifted to focus on Charlie. “Mr. Charlie Potter, the Boy Who Lived. I’ve been waiting for you to choose your wand. And who is this?” His gaze settled on Harry and something curious flickered in his expression. “Ah, Mr. Harry Potter. I’d wondered if I’d see you here. I’m very pleased you’ve recovered enough to get your wand.”

Harry blinked, taken aback. “I’m sorry, recovered from what?” As far as he knew, Harry had always been a healthy child, if one doesn’t count childhood pneumonia after being left on a doorstep in the cold for an entire night or the surgery for his appendicitis. But he doubted Mr. Ollivander was talking about that.

“Nevermind that.” James brusquely interrupted, “Look, can we get on with it? Charlie first, of course.” He gave a gentle nudge to Charlie’s shoulder, who eagerly stepped forward. 

The old wandmaker’s smile widened slightly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Of course, Mr. Potter. We must find you the perfect wand to match your talents. And remember, the wand chooses the wizard."

Mr. Ollivander began pulling boxes from the shelves, his movements deliberate and precise. One by one, the old man gave Charlie wands to try and then plucked them right out of his fingers. 

Finally, after about 40 minutes, one wand gave out a bright shower of sparks: Eleven inches, mahogany, hippogriff feather core. 

“An all rounder, I see. Good, stable, reliable in tricky situations. Respect this wand, Mr. Potter, and it will respect and aid you in your journey,” Mr. Ollivander praised, but judging by James’ disgruntlement and Lily’s unhappiness, there was clearly more to the story than that. Harry made a note to look it up. 

“Mr. Harry Potter, it’s your turn now.”

Harry stepped forward, nervous but also a little bored. He hoped it wouldn't take as long as it did for Charlie. 

During the next 15 minutes, none of the wands bonded with him. 

He tried wand after wand, each one causing minor disasters - shattered windows, toppled piles of wand boxes, a splintered cashier table, even a sudden flock of doves fluttering around the store. The wandmaker was bouncing between excitement at the challenge to find him the right wand and amusement at his mortification for all the damage he was causing, while his parents exchanged heavy glances.

“Perhaps it wasn’t meant to be,” Lily said, her tone betraying impatience instead of genuine concern. “His magic may not be strong enough for a wand.”

Harry fought back a scowl. It hadn’t even been half as long as it took Charlie to find his wand, and already, they were on the verge of giving up?

“Patience, my dear. Ah, here we are,” Ollivander murmured soothingly, placing a sleek box in front of him. “Try this one. Eleven inches, holly wood, with a phoenix feather core. Very powerful, very special.”

Harry took the wand, his hand trembling slightly. He swished it through the air with both hope and wariness. As he did, sparks erupted from the tip, casting a bright, golden light that danced and shimmered around the shop. A wave of warmth surged through him, spreading from his fingertips to the rest of his body. The sensation was unlike anything he’d ever felt, comforting and invigorating, as if the wand was an extension of himself.

Ollivander’s eyes widened slightly and he gave a slow nod, though his eyes burned into him with intensity. “Yes, I believe this is the one. A perfect match. But it’s very curious. Very curious, indeed.” 

Before Harry could ask what was so curious, James rudely cut in, “Great, let’s move on then, shall we? Lots to do today.”

“Wait!” Charlie suddenly yelled out, “Why does he get to have a phoenix feather when I got stuck with a stupid hippogriff feather!? I want a special phoenix feather wand!”

Mr. Ollivander pursed his lips in disapproval. “Mr. Potter, I can assure you that your wand is of exemplary quality. I crafted it myself. Remember, the wand chooses the wizard, not the other way around. The owner of such a special core would require a certain...ah, mental flexibility to master it to its full potential. Yes, I can clearly see that a phoenix feather wand would be most unsuitable to you. Such a bond is not yours to claim. Wands are sacred, Mr. Potter, not mere tools to do with as you wish and they deserve your utmost respect. If you aren’t careful, you might find yourself at odds with your wand and that would be most inconvenient.”

“Charlie, control yourself,” Lily chastised him, looking utterly embarrassed by Charlie’s temper tantrum. She guided him to the racks of wand supplies in an attempt to distract him. “Here, darling, choose any wand holster you want. Any colour and type you wish to wear. Mr. Ollivander, do you sell custom holsters we could special order for Charlie?”

As it turned out, most customers didn’t bother with custom wand holsters since they were typically concealed beneath clothing. But Mr. Ollivander, with his practised eye for opportunity, deftly upsold them on more than just their wands. By the time they were done, Harry had a simple black leather holster and a basic wand maintenance kit. 

Charlie — never one to settle for anything plain — had ordered an expensive dragonhide wand holster, dyed Gryffindor red with a flashy starburst design that matched his scar. The holster would be custom-made to his specifications and owled to him within two days. He also got a bigger wand maintenance kit, a wand pouch, a wand stand, a special wiping cloth that wouldn't leave even microabrasions on his wand, and a small padded box to store his wand when not in use.

While anyone in his position might have felt jealous at his parents' obvious favouritism towards Charlie, Harry honestly didn’t. Charlie was a spoiled brat and Harry wanted to be nothing like him. He was also completely bored out of his mind. He regretted not bringing a book to occupy himself. In desperation, he took to mentally repeating algebraic expressions, types of hydrocarbons and their properties, all the laws and theorems of electricity and magnetism from his classes, and even recited the bloody periodic table forwards and backwards in his head to stave off the boredom. 

They had already wasted more than 3 hours in the shop, and Charlie nagging his parents for yet another item was grating on his last nerves. 

With their purchases finally sorted, James quickly hurried them out of the shop, clearly eager to move on. Just this once, Harry was more than happy to comply with his birth father.

Outside, James turned to them with a brisk nod. "Alright, you two," he said, "You need to get your robes, books, and other school supplies. Your mother and I will be going now, so we’ll meet you at the Leaky in three hours. Don’t waste time and don’t get distracted."

Charlie grinned, practically vibrating with excitement at the thought of exploring Diagon Alley unsupervised. Harry, on the other hand, felt a sinking weight settle in his stomach. Three hours on their own in this bustling, unfamiliar world without any real guidance was daunting. It felt less like freedom and more like being cast adrift.

Before he could voice any of his concerns — about the crowds, the sheer chaos of the place, or the fact that they were only eleven and how one of them was a veritable celebrity — James and Lily had already turned away, their figures disappearing into the sea of robes and cloaks without so much as a backward glance.

Harry incredulously watched them disappear into the crowd. How could they just leave two kids alone like this? No instructions, no way to contact them if something went wrong. What if there was an emergency? Aunt Petunia would have a field day once she heard about this. Charlie, however, was already tugging at his arm, eager to dive into the shops. "Come on, little brother, let's get this done so we can grab some ice cream later. My treat."

Harry gave his twin a reluctant smile and followed him to the nearest shop. As they stepped into the clothing store, Madam Malkin, a cheerful middle-aged witch who was the proprietor of the store, bustled over to greet them. “Welcome, dearies! Hogwarts robes, I presume?”

Charlie nodded. “My measurements are the same as last time. But Harry here will need a full set of wizarding robes. He certainly can’t be seen around with me in that.” Charlie gestured at him with a sweep of his hand, eyeing his muggle clothes in open disgust. 

Harry felt a flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck but he quickly squashed it down. He privately agreed because he was currently wearing the tattered, oversized clothes Aunt Petunia carefully selected and made him wear for show. The faded shirt and baggy trousers were not even fit for wearing when he helped in cleaning the house or weeding the garden, so it certainly wasn’t suited for shopping. 

But somehow, he thought Charlie’s disdain wasn’t just about the condition of his clothes, it was about their very nature. Charlie wasn’t just sneering at the rips and stains; he was sneering at the fact that they were muggle clothes. He remembered how Charlie was looking around his home and his beloved garden that Harry and Aunt Petunia spent hours every week maintaining. 

If Charlie thought Harry would simply abandon the world he grew up in just because he was suddenly surrounded by wizards, then he was in for a rude awakening. No way in hell was Harry giving up his comfortable jumpers, hoodies, and sweatpants for what was essentially a structured dress.

Madam Malkin nodded and told him to pick out his favourite colours, fabrics and patterns while she looked into her records for Charlie’s measurements.

So, Harry moved slowly through the racks, his eyes scanning the fabrics and colours with care. The prices were much higher than he would normally consider, but since James was footing the bill, he decided to take full advantage of the opportunity.

For the colder months, he opted for thick, warm materials like wool and cashmere. He selected, amongst other things, a heavy charcoal grey wool cloak lined with soft fleece, perfect for keeping the biting Scottish winter winds at bay. A deep green cashmere jumper also caught his eye, its texture both warm and comforting, ideal for layering under his robes during the harshest days of winter.

For the transitional seasons, Harry picked out a few clothes in medium-weight fabrics like tweed and flannel. A navy blue flannel robe with a subtle plaid pattern would be perfect for the crisp autumn mornings, while a brown tweed jacket would offer warmth without being too heavy as the weather began to warm up.

For the summer months, Harry chose lighter, breathable fabrics like linen and cotton. He also picked up a set of shirts and slacks in simple colours and minimalist patterns. He resolutely stayed away from the more flashy robes with their bright colours and extravagant designs. He also didn’t choose anything with the colour red. It had never been his colour; he much rather preferred deep, calming jewel tones instead.

Harry also picked up a few fancier robes. He knew he wouldn’t have many occasions to wear something like this, but the allure of having something special in his wardrobe was too tempting to resist. Some of his favourites were the deep emerald green robe made of crushed velvet decorated with silver trimmings and the midnight blue robe made of fine satin which depicted swirling patterns that reminded Harry of ancient Celtic designs.

He found himself grateful for Aunt Petunia, who had always insisted on dragging him and Dudley to clothing shops, lecturing them endlessly about fashion. She had been determined they wouldn’t inherit Uncle Vernon’s dreadful tastes in fashion. At the time, Harry had thought it was all a pointless exercise, but standing here now, he realised he’d be utterly lost without that knowledge.

Charlie, once he finished discussing his wishes with Madam Malkins, walked over and wrinkled his nose at Harry’s selections. “Why are you picking Slytherin colours? You should be going for red and gold. Are you a Potter or not?”

Harry felt his earlier irritation flare up with a vengeance. “I don’t know what or who a Slytherin is and I don’t really care. I like these colours, so that’s what I’m getting,” he replied firmly. “Maybe you should worry less about my sartorial choices and more about how your red hair is going to clash with that awful shade of maroon you seem so keen on.”

Charlie spluttered at him indignantly and ran for the dressing room, thankfully leaving him to complete his shopping in peace.

Harry heard an amused chuckle behind him. “Well, that’s one way to deal with the prat.”

He whirled around and found himself face to face with a pale blonde boy of his age with an obvious love for hair gel. “Glad I could amuse you. I’m Harry Potter.” 

Harry extended his hand in greeting and, to his relief, received a firm handshake.

“Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Heir of House Malfoy. You say you’re Harry Potter?”

“A pleasure to meet you, Draco Malfoy. Yes, I am, and before you ask, yes, my parents are James and Lily Potter. And no, I didn’t grow up with Charlie, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you haven’t heard of me.”

Harry was very well aware by now the Potters had been living their lives acting as if he didn’t exist. It was one thing for Aunt Petunia to warn him about it, but it was completely different to experience people’s shock at his presence with the Potters.

But Malfoy’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Actually, I do know who you are. You’re the other Potter twin, right? The one who was so sick he had to stay hidden away at Potter Manor? Glad you're well enough for Hogwarts, I suppose. I’ve heard quite a bit of gossip about you.”

So that’s what they’ve been telling everyone? That he was sick and presumably bedridden, and couldn’t possibly meet with anyone? 

Harry's eyebrows raised slightly. “Gossip? I’m touched. I wasn’t aware my wellbeing was the talk of the wizarding world.”

Draco smirked, clearly salivating at the prospect of digging for more information. “Well, it's not every day that the Boy Who Lived has a twin no one talks about. People love a good mystery, especially when it involves the Potters. I heard you were so ill that they kept you out of the public eye, that you weren’t even really seen on the grounds of Potter Manor.”

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. What the bloody hell had his parents told the world about him? 

“It’s…whatever,” Harry lamely ended. “This is my first look at Diagon Alley.” Which wasn’t a lie and might still fit with whatever story the Potters had told about him. He didn’t want to get in trouble with them before he even started his magic schooling. They clearly had a lot of power and influence in the magical world and it would be highly foolish of him to go against them so publicly. 

Unfortunately, Malfoy’s expression was as curious as ever. “I can’t say I know much about you beyond the rumours, but it is interesting to finally meet you in person. The Potters’ family drama always seems to have a new twist.”

“Family drama seems to be their specialty,” Harry said wryly, before unsubtly changing the topic away from him. “So, do you have any tips for navigating Hogwarts? I hear it can be a bit overwhelming.”

Malfoy lit up. “Oh, absolutely. Stick with the right people, avoid trouble, and don’t let anyone push you around. It’s a lot easier if you know who to trust and who to avoid.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Harry replied, “I’ll keep that in mind.” Although Charlie had given him similar advice, Harry suspected Malfoy’s idea of the ‘right people’ was probably quite different from Charlie’s.

Malfoy took the shrunken package from Madam Malkin and told her to put it on his family tab. “See you around Hogwarts, Potter. Something tells me it will be a very interesting year.”

“See you there, Malfoy,” Harry said, watching as Malfoy walked out of the store, meeting an elegant looking woman who fussed over him and a man who looked like an older, haughtier clone of Draco, so obviously his mother and father. Malfoy then turned around and pointed at him, bringing his parents’ attention to him. 

Harry, not knowing what to do as Malfoy’s parents blatantly stared at him, awkwardly waved at them. To his relief, Malfoy Jr. gave him an enthusiastic wave in return, his face bright with a mischievous smirk that seemed to say he’d just made a new, if not entirely willing, acquaintance.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad at Hogwarts, after all.

Chapter Text

Once they were done at Madam Malkins, with the owner telling them to come back in an hour to collect their purchases, Harry and Charlie next went to Flourish and Blotts. Although Charlie nagged at him to not take too much time, Harry strode in ignoring his whining. 

As a student of a special school who was on an advanced study track, Harry was more than familiar with libraries and spent a lot of time with books. So, while Charlie ordered two sets of first year course books from the clerk, Harry took the time to explore the vast bookstore. 

Harry's eyes darted from shelf to shelf, each one overflowing with an impressive array of books. The store seemed to stretch on endlessly, filled with rows upon rows of books on various subjects. He marvelled at the different titles and colourful spines that beckoned him from their places on the shelves.

While Aunt Petunia did get him books, they were all beginner level ones and Harry had consumed them long ago. 

So, Harry went exploring, piling the extra books that caught his attention. He was a bit leery of overspending the money he took from the vault in Gringotts, but as Uncle Vernon used to say, a good education is a worthy investment for the future. Mind made up, Harry decided to get useful books in transfiguration, advanced charms, advanced runes, curses and counter-curses, basic warding techniques, wizarding etiquette, wandless magic, mental magic and so on. 

The idea of mastering enchanting objects intrigued him deeply, so he picked up a beginners guide on it, noting its detailed illustrations and comprehensive instructions. Runes was another subject that caught his attention. It also helped that he could actually inscribe some useful runic symbols into objects even in the normal world without breaking any laws. 

Although it wasn’t part of his book list, he also made sure to get the muggleborn introduction series and the Muggleborn Compendium: Ultimate Guide to the Wizarding World which covered most of the aspects of living in the magical world. While he wasn’t technically muggleborn, he was muggle raised and didn’t want to miss out on anything. 

He also picked up a book on wandlore and wand cores, remembering his parents’ reaction to Charlie’s wand and his own wand.

Aunt Petunia, who worked at the city council, often brought home files that Harry would browse through out of boredom. Uncle Vernon had been giving both him and Dudley lessons on managing personal finances and investments. Over time, Harry’s interest in law, politics and economics grew. He frequently found himself engaging in discussions with his aunt and uncle, and occasionally even their friends from work. So, when he saw books that delved into the wizarding world’s versions of those subjects, he naturally picked them up, eager to understand how things worked on both sides of the divide

Harry narrowed his eyes when he saw the book, Public Opinion and Wizarding Media: Shaping Political Perceptions. Aunt Petunia had told him that the Potters’ fame came from Charlie apparently defeating a dark lord. The Potters had used a political event to catapult themselves to fame. Wondering how that worked, he quietly placed that book into his basket as well.

As he wandered to the Potions section, Harry’s exploration was interrupted by Charlie’s voice, which was loud, impatient and irritable. “I can’t believe you’re such a swot. How much longer are you going to take? We can check out the new quidditch broom at Quality Quidditch Supplies if we get there fast enough before meeting up with Dad and Mum.”

Harry glanced over his shoulder, seeing Charlie's frustrated expression. “Give me a few more minutes,” Harry called back, annoyed. He knew Charlie didn’t share his enthusiasm for books, but that didn’t mean he needed to be rude about Harry’s interests. 

He quickly ran through the rest of the bookshelves, choosing a bunch of books whose titles caught his attention. Harry was well-aware that many of the books he had chosen were out of his skill range, but slowly and methodically working through them was half the fun. 

With a final look around, Harry gathered his surprisingly lightweight book basket (it was magic, he supposed) and made his way to the counter where the clerk rang up his selections. The total price was high, but Harry was undeterred. This was his chance to immerse himself in the magical world he had only just begun to understand.

“Alright, I’m done,” Harry said, trying to ignore Charlie’s loud impatient sighs. “Let’s head out.”

Charlie rolled his eyes but led the way.

Turns out, they didn’t have time for more than a cursory glance at the new broomstick, something Charlie made a point of reminding him with every accusing look he shot his way.

Harry was secretly relieved. The store was swarming with kids and adults alike, all clamouring for a chance to see the latest model. Harry wanted to do nothing with the chaotic scene, even if he was intrigued by the idea of flying with what was essentially a magical jetpack.

He firmly declined when Charlie practically demanded Harry to join him in entering the store. His frustration was evident as he glared at Harry. “Come on, Harry, you’re not even going to take a look? The Nimbus 2000 is the latest and fastest model on the market. It’s incredible!”

Harry shrugged. “It’s fine, Charlie. We’ve got to meet up with our parents soon anyway. You can come back another day. It’s not like this is the only broomstick in existence. But if you want to fight through the crowd, be my guest.”

With a smug look and a quick “watch and learn” thrown over his shoulder, Charlie sauntered into the crowd, obviously enjoying the attention, as he made his way through the sea of eager faces. He exchanged friendly handshakes and charming greetings as the crowd hastily tripped over themselves to part for him.

The whole scene was nothing short of astonishing. Harry watched, dumbfounded, as Charlie commanded the attention of everyone around him with effortless grace. He angled his body just so, allowing his best side to be captured by the sudden flashes of the cameras going off in the crowd. His posture was perfect, a blend of casual arrogance and practised charm. The crowd buzzed with excitement, their eyes following every move Charlie made as if he were the star of a grand performance. And Harry supposed he was.

The shop owner brought down the Nimbus 2000 from its display perch with visible excitement and Charlie accepted it with a dramatic flourish, treating the crowd to a brief, impromptu demonstration of its sleek design and advanced features. The store owner, clearly thrilled to have such a notable guest, eagerly assisted Charlie in playing with the broom and once the show was winding down, offered him the broomstick with enthusiastic compliments on his flying skills for half the cost! 

Unbelievable! The costliest broom on the market and Charlie gets it at a massive discount!

And that's not even including all the other paraphernalia he was getting for free!

Harry, from his vantage point across the street, could only marvel at the spectacle. It was unreal how easily Charlie manipulated the situation to his advantage. It truly was a stark reminder of the different world Charlie inhabited, one where fame and privilege danced hand in hand and where Harry was nothing more than an observer.

Once he was done, Charlie happily skipped towards him with an armload of shrunken quidditch supplies in his pocket and the new broom strapped across his back, a satisfied grin plastered across his face. “And that, my dear little brother, is how it’s done.”

“But brooms aren’t allowed for first years?”

Charlie waved a dismissive hand, his grin widening. “Details, details. Besides, everyone knows the rules don’t really apply to the Boy Who Lived. I just made sure to get a head start on my collection. That man was so awed by my presence, he gave most of these things away for free!”

Harry shook his head, half-amused and half-annoyed. “Isn’t that a bit unfair? You’ve practically got everything handed to you.”

Charlie’s smile didn’t waver. “Oh, come on. It’s not my fault if people are excited to see me. Besides, being famous has its perks. Why not enjoy them?”

Harry didn’t know why Charlie’s blasé attitude was rubbing him off the wrong way. He’d already known his twin was a famous and spoiled kid, but it was irritating him to no end. Probably because Charlie was reminding him of those insufferable rich snobs who always bullied him in his private school for being a scholarship student. “And what about those of us who don’t have a spotlight? We have to follow the rules, work hard and earn our way.”

Charlie’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Look, it’s not like I asked to be famous. I’m just making the most of it. My fame opens doors and I’m just walking through them.”

Harry sighed in frustration. “Yeah, well, not everyone has the luxury of opening doors with their name. Some of us have to actually, you know, earn it.”

Charlie rolled his eyes, adjusting the bag of Quidditch supplies on his shoulder. “Oh, come off it. The world owes me for defeating the world’s darkest, most evil wizard and ending the war for them. If they want to shower me with praise and gifts, who am I to stop them?”

Harry pressed his lips together, not bothering to reply. It was glaringly obvious that fame had inflated Charlie’s ego. The way he basked in the spotlight, treating it like a personal right, was more than a little off-putting. Harry felt frustrated, recognising that this wasn’t just about differing opinions. It was a fundamental clash in values.

Still, Harry didn’t want to leave it there. This was his twin brother, after all. They shared more than just their name; they were supposed to share a bond. If the books he read were right, magical twins could even share a mind link if their relationship was strong enough. Surely, they should at least try to understand each other and find some common ground. “I get that you’re used to this kind of treatment,” Harry started cautiously, “but it doesn’t mean you have to take it for granted. Some of us would appreciate a little more humility.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Humility? That’s not going to get you far in this world. If you’ve got something to offer, you’d better make sure everyone knows it.”

Harry shook his head. “That’s exactly the problem. It’s not just about making sure people know what you’ve done; it’s about how you treat others while you’re doing it. You might find that being humble and modest goes a lot further than just flaunting your fame.”

Charlie’s expression hardened as he replied sharply, “Jealousy isn’t a good look, Harry.” 

Harry’s eyes flashed with a mix of hurt and anger. “I’m not jealous, Charlie. I just think there’s a difference between enjoying the perks of fame and letting it go to your head. There’s a way to be grateful without being insufferable.”

Charlie’s face reddened and he scoffed, dismissing Harry’s words with a wave of his hand. “Yeah, well, I don’t need a lecture from someone who’s barely been a part of this world. What would you know, anyway? You’ve spent your whole life as a muggle. I don’t expect you to get it.”

Why did he care if Charlie was going to make many enemies with that arrogant attitude of his? He had seen it happen before multiple times to his peers and seniors in his private school and he didn’t want his brother to fall into that trap. But clearly, Charlie wasn’t going to listen to his concerns.

Harry looked away, his jaw set. This was a mistake. “Whatever. We’ve got to meet our parents soon. Let’s just get this over with.”

Before he could walk away, Charlie quickly stepped in front of him, harshly shoving him back as he loomed into his personal space. Harry cursed the fact that Charlie had a few inches on him and he had to look up to meet Charlie’s eyes. “I suggest you get rid of your attitude soon. You mean nothing in my world. You're an unwanted squib pretending to be a wizard. No one would bat an eye if you find yourself in trouble. Don't forget, I'm the Boy Who Lived. Everyone loves me. You would find it very… unpleasant at Hogwarts were you to go against me. Got it?”

Harry’s eyes widened in shock and anger, but he swallowed his response as Charlie spun on his heels and stalked away with Harry reluctantly following him at a distance.

Chapter Text

As they approached the Leaky Cauldron, Harry spotted James and Lily waiting for them. Lily had in her hand a few bags with a label of a dinner plate, clearly from that restaurant they were visiting. James stood next to her, one hand holding sleek shopping bags that looked far too expensive to be carrying mere school supplies and the other hand holding a big object fully covered with a thick cloth. 

“Dad! Mum!” Charlie yelled, bounding forward and throwing himself into their arms.

Harry bit his lip to keep from bursting into laughter as both James and Lily awkwardly fumbled to keep ahold of their purchases, clearly unprepared for the sudden onslaught of affection, as the heavy projectile named Charlie launched at them. It was painfully obvious the Potters were not a hugging type of family and the stiff pats on Charlie’s back as they extricated themselves from his octopus grip only made the scene more comical.

Harry could only shake his head in amusement as Charlie threw a self-satisfied smirk over his shoulder.

“So, how did your shopping go? Did you have fun?”

“Yeah!” Charlie beamed, bouncing on his heels with excitement, “I got the Nimbus 2000! Can you believe it!?”

“Aw, really?” James pouted playfully, ruffling Charlie’s hair. “I wanted to be there when you got it.”

“Well, you got to enjoy a special event at the restaurant” Charlie sniffed exaggeratedly, “so it’s only right that I get to buy the Nimbus.”

“Ah, when you put it like that…” James nodded, smiling indulgently at him.

“So, Harry, did you enjoy your first day in the magical world?” Lily asked with a polite smile on her face. 

“Er, yes. It certainly feels like something from a fairytale.” 

“Wonderful.” She nodded before turning to Charlie, her smile becoming much more genuine. “Charlie, darling, have you gotten everything you need for Hogwarts?”

“Yeah, we got everything on the list.” Unable to help his curiosity any longer, Charlie piped up, “What’s under that cover?”

James shared an excited look with Lily. “Now that you’re heading to Hogwarts, we’ve decided it’s time. Go on, pull it off.”

Excitedly, Charlie yanked the cloth off the object to reveal a gleaming golden birdcage with a beautiful white owl inside it. The owl fluttered and hooted around the cage agitatedly, before ruffling its feathers and settling down on the perch, glaring at them all. 

Charlie gasped, “You’ve got me an owl! My very own owl!”

“Yes, son. You’re old enough to have your own familiar. Consider this an early birthday present.”

“Thanks guys!” Charlie then looked around them and then back at his parents confused, “Where’s Harry’s present?” Even if Charlie disliked the reminder of Harry being older to him by those minutes, they were twins, born only a few minutes apart.

James and Lily exchanged another one of those looks before Lily answered sweetly, “We can’t very well give him an owl, can we? He lives in the muggle world. Merlin only knows how his aunt Tuney would react to that. Isn’t that right, Harry?”

Harry didn’t bother with a response, simply staring them down. 

“But it’s his birthday today,” Charlie pointed out, looking conflicted. Sure, he’d gotten angry at his twin for talking like he was a pompous peacock like Malfoy, strutting around all over the place and taking advantage of everyone around him. But not giving him a present? When it was his actual birthday today? That was just not done.

Harry looked over at him in surprise, not expecting Charlie of all people to speak up for him, especially not so soon after their argument. Maybe there was hope for their relationship after all.

“And I’m sure he’s had enough surprises for the day. Harry can use your owl to send letters home when you’re both at Hogwarts.” Lily smoothly placated before quickly changing the subject. “Now, I believe we promised ice cream, so let’s get to it.”

Harry threw a longing look at the delicious smell of Shepherd's pie wafting from a table near the door of the Leaky Cauldron as James and Lily led him and Charlie down the bustling streets of Diagon Alley until they reached Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor. The shop was filled with the rich, sweet aroma of ice cream and Harry’s mouth watered as he took in the colourful array of flavours displayed in the glass counter.

It was nearing lunchtime and Harry’s stomach was already rumbling something fierce. With how early James and Lily showed up at their door, he might have gone hungry the whole day if Aunt Petunia hadn’t insisted on him waking up even earlier and having breakfast before they showed up. He was rather put out that he couldn’t have a decent lie-in on his birthday. He wondered if James and Lily would feed them something more substantial than ice cream. He wondered if he could or should ask. 

Lily guided Harry and Charlie to a cosy table at the back of the shop before going to James, who had gone to the counter to place the order. 

Before he could do much more than give Charlie a tentative smile, the two of them came back with ice cream bowls in each hand. 

“I thought a bit of ice cream would make this day a little more special.” James said as he placed the ice creams, each topped with a generous swirl of whipped cream and a cherry, on the table. “Lily, love, here’s your favourite: pink peppercorn and honey lemon. Irish whisky and raspberry for me. Charlie, I got you your sticky toffee pudding and candied orange. Try not to go crazy with the sugar rush,” he teased. 

“And here we go, chocolate and cinnamon for you. Got you something less exotic to ease you in,” James said cheerfully, handing Harry a brightly coloured bowl. 

Harry murmured a thank you as he accepted it. He took a wary lick from his spoon, never having heard of a cinnamon and chocolate combination before, but ended up savouring the unfamiliar but delicious taste. His excitement dampened somewhat as Lily sat down opposite him with a serious face which immediately set him on edge.

“Harry, dear,” Lily began, her smile forced even as her eyes looked concerned. At that moment, her expression looked so much like Aunt Tuney whenever she was about to discuss some bad news that a sharp pang of homesickness hit him. 

Suddenly, all he wanted was this day to end and run back home to his uncle and aunt. 

“Now that we can sit and properly talk, there’s something important we need to discuss.”

Harry raised an eyebrow in curiosity while Charlie seemed too engrossed in his knickerbocker glory and what looked like a magical version of Etch-A-Sketch to pay much attention to the conversation.

James leaned back in his seat, glancing around, before casting something with his wand, probably to make sure no one was listening. Abruptly, Harry realised James had chosen the corner seat which would give him a good view of the entire shop. He was reluctantly impressed before remembering he was some form of magical detective. “You see, Harry, the magical world is not all rainbows and sunshine. There are both good guys and bad guys. Your mum and I were fighting for the good of the world, and Charlie had vanquished the head of the bad guys - an evil wizard named Voldemort. But just because he was gone, for the time being, didn’t mean his evil henchmen went away. No, many of them are still around and still looking to hurt us. We had to make many sacrifices to keep ourselves safe.” He looked at Harry expectantly. 

“And that included sending me away?” Harry asked in a low voice.

James nodded at him with a smile, but Harry could see the discomfort in his eyes. “Precisely. It was a difficult time for us all, and with Charlie becoming the Boy-Who-Lived, there were all these people clamouring for our attention. We didn’t think we could do justice raising you, especially as your magic was practically non-existent in the weeks after the attack on our home. Not that we have anything against muggles or squibs, mind you, we aren’t prejudiced against that lot at all. In fact, we fought for their rights during the war and—” James then pursed his lips. “How much did your aunt tell you?”

“Not much,” Harry replied without missing a beat as he repeated the words his aunt told him to say. “I didn’t know about magic. Just that a lot of freaky things happened around me. I didn’t know what to make of it until your letter came and then my aunt and uncle had to explain.”

Lily chimed in, looking concerned, “Petunia didn’t tell you about magic even when you were doing accidental magic?”

“It must have been too weak for her to notice, then.” James waved his hand dismissively. “You were practically a squib as a baby — that is, a non-magical child born to magical parents — and I highly doubt it would have been anything flashy.”

Harry knew for certain that his magic had been particularly volatile and intense when he was a toddler. It was what pushed Aunt Petunia to venture out into the magical world to look for help that first time. Uncle Vernon believed it had something to do with some trauma Harry had suffered as a baby, possibly even the result of that attack by the dark wizard.

Lily nodded, looking relieved and happy. “It was quite a shock when Albus told us you had gotten a Hogwarts letter.” 

Who was this Albus character, again? Harry didn’t think they mentioned him before. Not noticing his confusion, Lily continued, “We thought you lost your magic as a baby and that you’d be happier in the muggle world than in ours where you would grow jealous of your brother for his magic and fame. If you'd stayed with us, you would have led a very unhappy and bitter life, Harry, not unlike your aunt.” Harry pressed his lips to stop himself from snarking back after hearing yet another dig at his aunt’s character. “Trust me on that. We didn’t want that for you or Charlie. It’s why we asked Petunia to raise you.”

Asked? Harry internally scoffed. More like dumped me on her doorstep and completely forgot my existence. Harry had read the letter Lily had written when they had left him in a bloody basket outside on that cold November night. Needless to say, he was less than impressed.

James took over as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table, staring at him so intensely that Harry resisted the urge to lean back. “Now that it seems you will be attending Hogwarts, we need to clarify a few things. You will be attending as a Potter and it would not do for you to shame our family name. We are all well-known here, Charlie more than most. As the brother of the Boy-Who-Lived, your behaviour will be scrutinised and judged relentlessly. Since the world knew of your birth, everyone believes you’ve been living with us at Potter Manor this whole time. We told everyone that you were too ill to go out, so they think you were kept away from the public for your own health.”

Harry’s eyes widened in disbelief. A manor? They live in a freaking manor and they still abandoned him? He blinked rapidly and ducked his head to try to hide the growing contempt he felt towards his parents. “You mean… no one knows I lived with the Dursleys?”

He’d already known that him being dumped at the Dursleys hadn’t been entirely legal. To the best of what he understood from his Aunt’s rants, his birth hadn’t been registered with the government and his relatives had to face many awkward questions about his sudden appearance. 

They couldn’t even pass him off as their own child as he was around 2 years old when he showed up on their doorstep. The only living relatives they had were Lily, who had disappeared from the normal world at age 17 leaving no records, and Aunt Marge, who was unmarried at that time. There was a very real risk of him entering the system as there was no documentation proving he was Lily’s son, or rather Petunia’s nephew. 

So, to ease the process and secure legal custody of him, Aunt Petunia claimed the Potters had married young and been living like hippies, enjoying their life on the road until they had tragically died in a car crash. To reinforce this story, she gave him her maiden name, Harry Evans-Potter, presenting it as a tribute to her late sister. 

Harry’s late maternal grandmother, deeply distressed by the unexpected situation, supported Petunia’s story, adding credibility to the claim that Petunia was simply stepping in as family to care for her nephew. 

Despite the dubious manner in which his parents treated him as a baby, he was still shocked to hear they had been lying about his whereabouts all this time, and that no one questioned why he was supposedly shut in the manor all this time. Even bed-bound hospital patients are allowed to enjoy the outdoors with assistance. 

Lily nodded seriously. “That’s right. We need you to keep it a secret. No one can know that you were raised by muggles. It’s crucial for your safety and for maintaining a certain… status quo.”

Harry’s heart sank as he processed what they were telling him. So, it came back to their reputations. Harry suspected as much, with the way they behaved with everyone here, but to get a confirmation of his theory was disheartening. 

“So, you’re saying I have to lie about my past?”

Charlie, in the meantime, had finished his ice cream and was wiping his hands clean on a napkin. “What’s the big deal anyway? Why can’t we just tell everyone the truth? I mean, it’s not like you can hide the fact that he’s so… muggle.”

James gave Charlie a stern look. “Charlie, please. We’re talking about something very important here.”

Charlie grunted back. “Whatever. I’m off to buy some toys so I don’t die of boredom at Hogwarts. I’ll be back soon.”

James’ eyes followed Charlie as he left the store before turning back to Harry. “It’s not about lying, Harry. It’s about protecting you. You need to understand that. The magical world can be unforgiving, especially with our reputation and place in society. War had consumed our world not too long ago. We still have many enemies because we are the good guys who fought for freedom and progress. Do you understand? Charlie is a powerful child. You are not. Added to the fact that you know nothing of this world, it’s best if you do as we say. You don’t want to be treated poorly because of your upbringing, do you?”

There was something off about James' tone and his explanation, but Harry, for the life of him, couldn’t figure out what it was. 

“If it’s so bad to be raised by norm—non-magicals, why did you leave me there?”

And wasn’t that the question of the hour. What possible excuse could they give for abandoning their own child when they were healthy, wealthy, and more than capable of raising him along with Charlie?

“It was a dark time for us.” James replied, his expression grim and deeply annoyed, possibly at Harry’s barrage of questions. “Voldemort was a powerful evil wizard hell-bent on destroying our world. He had many evil followers who hadn’t yet been captured. It was already difficult to keep Charlie safe, and with you turning into a squib…well, sending you to the safety of the muggle world was the obvious choice.”

Lily reached across the table, placing a hand on his. Harry resisted the urge to shake it off. “We did what we thought was best for you, but now you need to understand why it was necessary. Your safety and future are paramount. The magical world is a complicated place and sometimes secrets are required to keep things stable. We only took these steps to protect you, Harry, and now you must help us continue it.”

Sure you did, Harry mentally scoffed. Their supposed concern for his safety felt more like a smokescreen, a way to keep him at a distance, out of their carefully crafted public image. They had all this fame, wealth, and lived in a sprawling manor, yet they couldn’t keep one more child safe? If security was truly an issue, why had they allowed him and Charlie to wander Diagon Alley just hours prior with no adult supervision? And judging by Charlie’s ease, it was clearly not his first time alone there.

Even now, Charlie had just wandered off and they didn’t so much as tell him to take care.

Safety, sure.

This happy family of father, mother, and their golden boy - the Boy Who Lived. What a ridiculous moniker. They basked in the adulation that came with being the parents of their famous son, while shoving Harry aside as he didn’t fit into their manufactured narrative. 

It was clear to him now: they were more concerned with maintaining their perfect image than with the messy reality of his life. The fame and adoration they received seemed to be a shiny, glittering cover for their failures, and Harry was nothing more than a blemish they preferred to keep hidden.

Harry glanced around the bustling ice cream parlour and the magical world seemed more daunting and alien than ever. The cheerful clinking of spoons and soft laughter from other patrons felt distant, a stark contrast to the heavy feeling that was building in his chest.

Because ultimately, they were right. Even if he read all the books, even if he learnt all the rules pertaining to this world, he would still be an outsider here. Worse, the family he was connected to were influential and powerful, and they didn’t seem to care about him. And despite it all, he would inherit their enemies, their problems. If he wasn’t careful, people would lump him together with the other Potters which would force him to bend to his parents' whims.

And if Aunt Petunia was right, his parents had an agenda regarding him. More than just shoving him aside for convenience's sake. His relatives told him that he had been doing magic since he came to their home. And it stands to reason that he was doing magic before that, too. So, his parents' reasoning that he was sent to the normal world because didn't have magic fell through completely.

They were lying. Why were they lying? 

“Alright,” Harry agreed finally, hoping his voice remained steady despite the turmoil inside. It’s not like he had another choice here. “I’ll keep it a secret. But… what if people find out?”

Lily’s piercing gaze was cold, eerie and unwavering. “We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it. I do hope, though, you do your best to not let people find out.”

Harry nodded numbly, dropping his eyes to his ice cream bowl and pulling his hand from his supposed mother’s uncomfortable grip. It was as if he were a dirty little secret they had to hide away. For his safety, they said. What a joke. The Potters lived in a manor with every conceivable protection, yet Harry was shoved into a shadowy corner of their world, concealed from view.

James, waving at Charlie who finally came back with another set of shrunken packages filling his pocket, quickly pivoted the conversation. “So, have you heard about the latest Quidditch scores? I’ve heard there’s a lot of excitement about the new broom models this year.”

Charlie’s face lit up at the mention of Quidditch and he eagerly dove into the discussion. “Dad, you won't believe what I just heard about the Chudley Cannons! Word on the street say the manager is looking to get the seeker the Nimbus 2000, so hopefully they can at least win one match this season. I know Ron’s hoping for that miracle to happen!”

Lily, grateful for the change in subject, joined in with a smile. “Oh, I may have heard something about that from Lord Shacklebolt. It sounds like it might be a game-changer.”

As they continued discussing the latest Quidditch gossip, Harry stared at his fizzy ice cream, watching as it slowly melted into a pudgy puddle. He wanted to scream that he deserved more than to be just a secret to be kept in the shadows.

Worse, they hadn’t even once asked about his shabby appearance or the bruises marring his skin. Harry had tried to hint at his condition several times just as he practised with Aunt Petunia, subtly adjusting his sleeves and flashing his injured wrists or bruised collarbone multiple times during the conversation and before they left him and Charlie to continue shopping. Even that goblin at Gringotts looked concerned for his health!

Their focus throughout the entire trip was on Charlie and the spectacle of their public image, not on the boy they had left in the shadows.

Despite his attempts to draw their attention, James and Lily remained blissfully unaware or, more likely, deliberately indifferent. Harry felt a pang of resentment as he remembered how Aunt Petunia had insisted he wear clothes that barely fit, just to make a point. Or was it so he would see what she had always known? That his parents didn’t care one whit about him?

The Potters' apparent disinterest in his condition only reinforced his sense of being an afterthought in their grand narrative. The disparity between their apparent concern for Charlie and their disregard for him was a painful reminder of how little he truly mattered to them.

Harry took another spoonful of his ice cream, the chilled treat doing little to soothe his hurt and frustration. For now, he resolved to keep his anger in check, focusing instead on learning how to navigate his new life, learning all he can about this strange world. But deep down, the hurt and pain lingered, a dark shadow that he didn’t know if he could ever shake off. 

Well, if nothing else, this outing at least confirmed some of Aunt Petunia's theories and answered his own doubts about his parents' care for him, or rather, the lack of it.

Chapter Text

When the Potters finally decided that everything had been purchased for Hogwarts and declared the shopping trip over, Harry felt nothing but giddy relief, something he valiantly tried to keep from showing on his face.

That was until Lily opened her mouth. “I’m sure you’d love to come home with us, Harry. You could stay at Potter Manor and learn all about the wizarding world and your family until you and Charlie have to leave for Hogwarts.”

Charlie excitedly perked up at that, but before he could get a word in, Harry quickly spoke, “Erm, no thank you. My uncle expects me back so I could complete my chores for the day.” Harry then squinted up at her, “Unless I don’t have to go back to the Dursleys ever again?”

God, he hoped they didn’t say yes, but luckily, Lily shared another look with an annoyed James before replying, “Ah, well, that’s too bad. But I can understand wanting to spend time with your loved ones before you’re off to boarding school.”

Charlie pouted at them. “But why can’t he come with us? He’s my twin brother. For all you know, we could be powerful enough to share a mind link. But we need to have a close relationship for that. The Patil twins share a room and a bed! And the Weasley twins share everything!”

Harry wrinkled his nose at that. Gross! 

James smiled down at Charlie. Harry thought he looked indulgently patronising. “Now, Charlie, Harry’s uncle and aunt must have something special planned for his birthday today before we whisked him away. It wouldn't be right to deprive him of whatever the muggles had prepared for him.”

What exactly did James think his uncle and aunt had planned for him when they supposedly made him sleep in a cupboard?

Charlie let out a loud, disappointed sigh. “Oh, alright.”

Lily clapped her hands cheerfully. “Let’s get a move on, shall we?”

After another hellish experience of wizarding transportation, apparently called sidelong, seriously wizard names were so weird, Harry landed again in Mrs. Figg’s backyard. He precariously wobbled on the next few steps he took, but at least this time, he didn’t puke his guts out. Harry would take the win.

He led them to the edge of the street at Magnolia Crescent, not fully entering Privet Drive. He knew how sensitive his aunt was to public perception and he didn’t want to cause her any problems with the neighbours’ gossip about Harry’s parents miraculously returning from the dead.

Once he stopped and turned to look at his parents, Harry asked, "So, what next? How will I get to this school on September 1st? Will you come to pick me up?” As much as Harry hated it, he could hear the hope in his voice. It would be nice to have a familiar face around when he was to be thrusted into this new world.

“No,” James replied, surprise flickering in his face. “We have to get Charlie from our home to the station. It would take too much time to come here for you as well. All students take a train from London to Hogwarts. It’s called the Hogwarts Express. Here is your ticket. Keep it safe because you won’t get another. You’ll need to get to King’s Cross station in London before 11am; that’s when the train leaves. Go to Platform 9¾. It’s the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10. Just walk straight into it, the wall is an illusion to all witches and wizards. If you have magic, it will let you through. It might be a bit scary, but I'm sure you’ll get the hang of it.”

Lily added in her two cents. “We’ve left you with everything you need. I’m sure you’ll do just fine. Muggleborns do it all the time. Just remember to keep your wand with you and be careful to dress in muggle clothes. You don’t want to alert any muggles of any…oddities.”

Harry’s eyes were fixed on the floor, all his resentment bubbling beneath the surface. “So, you’re just going to leave me, then?” he said bitterly. “You’re taking Charlie, but not me?”

Lily tutted. She knew there would be problems with Petunia raising Harry, but in her defence, she thought she wouldn’t have to deal with it. "Jealousy is a poison that can ruin a person. Remember that, Harry. Your brother needs us there with him, especially with everyone's attention on him. You don't want to be caught up in that, trust me.”

Harry clenched his jaw, but didn't dignify that with a response. So asking why they didn't want to be there for him as he entered a whole new world, after they abandoned him for 10 years, automatically meant that he was jealous of his brother? What a freaking joke. 

“Whatever. Well, see you around, I suppose.” Harry mainly said this to Charlie who nodded back with an awkward smile. “I can find my way back home by myself.”

James and Lily shared another look before Lily replied with a smile, “I would like to see my sister again. I have some things to discuss with her. We’ll walk you home.”

Petunia had a sour look on her face when she opened her front door to see her sister and her husband. “You’re back.”

Lily smiled awkwardly. She hadn’t expected Harry to want to go back to Petunia’s house. She had seen the signs of neglect and it frankly alarmed her. 

She knew when they had decided to leave Harry here that Petunia wouldn’t treat him kindly. Petunia had always been jealous of Lily and hated that Lily was the special one. There was no way Petunia would have embraced Lily’s son. That was why they had been forced to leave him on the doorstep in the dead of night, instead of knocking on the door at an acceptable time. Petunia would have turned them away if given a choice.

While Lily had anticipated some animosity towards Harry, she hadn’t expected Petunia would be so bitter and jealous even after all these years that she would take it out on a little boy, Lily’s son or not, magical or not. Lily hadn’t expected the level of disdain they showed towards Harry or that Petunia would stoop so low as to abuse a little boy, if the bruises she had seen on Harry’s tiny form was any indication.

Even if Harry had been completely magic-free, Lily thought Harry might still not have enjoyed a completely carefree childhood at the Dursleys’ household. To be honest, Lily hadn’t been best pleased with the plan of leaving her firstborn like this, especially so soon after risking death by challenging Voldemort when the madman attacked them, even if it was necessary for the greater good. 

Lily knew, of course, Harry wouldn’t be as pampered as Charlie, but the level of neglect and abuse really shocked her. Those rags he was wearing were practically drowning him. The old spectacles he was wearing were held together by tape. And making him sleep in a cupboard? She just about had a heart attack when she saw that! How could her sister be so cruel to treat a child so horribly?

Albus had assured them that Harry was growing up to be a happy boy, adjusting well to a life without magic in the muggle world. He had offered to send them photographs, but she and James decided it was best to have a clean cut away from Harry’s life; it would just be too difficult otherwise. It’s why they never bothered to check up on him, focusing on building their lives, focusing on Charlie, instead of looking back. And with time, it became easier. Easier to forget that one of their sons lived in the muggle world. Easier to enjoy the fame and adulation that came their way. 

And if it had all gone to plan, Harry would never have step foot in the wizarding world. He would have been blissfully ignorant of his heritage, would have been free to live his life in the muggle world. And they wouldn’t have had to deal with all this mess, wouldn’t have to come up with excuses, wouldn’t have to worry about Harry ruining their name. She could just imagine the headlines in the Prophet!

But clearly, Albus’ intel was wrong. And now, it was too late to undo the damage done.

Lily had personally seen how bitter and twisted a wix could become when hurt by their family members, especially if they’re muggles. She inwardly shuddered at the similarities between Severus’ upbringing and Harry’s. Would Harry go Dark as well? Would he betray them like Severus had betrayed her? 

Unfortunately, the needs of the many must come before the needs of the few. Voldemort wasn’t dead like everyone thought he was. The war would start up again and they needed all the advantage they could get. And for that, Harry must remain with Petunia to sustain the blood wards even if it wasn’t the greatest of environments for a child to grow up. 

It hurt her to have to acknowledge this. She could see James had gone into denial already. Merlin, it hurt her so very much, but they were at war and sacrifices had to be made.

That was why she had thought it would be a good idea to invite Harry to Potter Manor just until they set off to Hogwarts. They could observe the boy better and see if he was turning Dark or not. He was still young enough that they could nudge him in the right direction and maybe even cultivate a useful resource to aid Charlie in his endeavours.

Lily certainly didn’t expect Harry to want to go back to the Dursleys’, even if it was apparently because he had to finish some chores.

“Petunia, we have a lot to discuss. May we come in?”

Petunia stood in the doorway, her lips pursed and her sharp gaze flickering between Lily and James with thinly veiled irritation, always ready to tear a person apart with her vitriol. Lily had certainly not missed her sister in the intervening years. “What’s there to discuss? You’ve already taken him for the day. I expect you’ll be taking him off our hands now that he’s got his blasted letter.”

Lily shifted uncomfortably. It really was uncanny how Petunia could see through her. They did come only because Harry got his Hogwarts letter, but she had to impress upon Tuney that Harry must stay in the muggle world. She tightened her grip on her bag and stepped forward. “No, Petunia. This is important. We won’t take up much of your time, but you need to hear this.”

Petunia glared at her, but she eventually stepped aside to let them in. James followed silently while Charlie slinked off up the stairs with Harry. Good. She didn’t want the kids to hear any of this. Once inside, Petunia ushered them into the tastefully decorated sitting room, casting an annoyed glance at Vernon who was absorbed in the newspaper.

Lily sat on the edge of the pretty floral-patterned sofa, her gaze direct and unwavering. “Listen, Tuney. I know you don’t want Harry here—”

“Don't call me that! And you’re right, I don’t,” Petunia cut in sharply. “You just dumped him here like yesterday's rubbish and never replied to any of my letters. We never asked for him.”

“And yet,” Lily said firmly, refusing to be derailed, “he has to stay with you. I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation. The reason you, Vernon, and Dudley are safe — the reason your family has been untouched by everything that’s happening in my world — is because Harry is here.”

Petunia scoffed, folding her arms tightly across her chest. “What hogwash are you spouting now? Safe from what? I thought your son defeated that evil bastard?”

“It’s not hogwash,” Lily shot back, her voice high and heated. “Voldemort may be gone for now, but he will return. He’s out there and he has followers who are still at large, who will stop at nothing to destroy families like mine and yours. The only reason they haven’t come here, to your doorstep, is because Harry’s presence keeps you safe.”

Petunia shifted uncomfortably, the mocking edge to her expression faltering. “And what does that have to do with us?”

Lily exhaled, forcing her tone to soften. “There are blood wards here, Petunia. They’re rooted to your home; powerful protections that can only be fueled by blood relations. Harry staying here, under your roof, means that you and your family are protected from anyone who might try to hurt you. The wards shield this house because Harry is your blood. That magic is the reason you haven’t had Death Eaters banging on your door.”

Petunia paled slightly before she spluttered with anger. “What wards!? What on earth are you on about? Since when did you become so kind-hearted to care about my family's safety when you never bothered to protect our parents from those magical terrorists!? I don’t give a damn about your magic, Lily. It’s unnatural, all of it. We didn’t sign up for any of this—”

“And yet you benefit from it!” Lily snapped, her patience thinning at the mention of their parents. “And I didn't mention the blood wards before because I knew you would freak out like this! Like it or not, Harry is the reason this house is safe. The reason Dudley is safe.” The reason this place would be a stronghold for Charlie should he ever need it, not that Lily voiced it out loud. “I’m not asking you to dote on him or love him like your own, but I am asking you to do better. You don’t have to like him, but you can’t keep treating him like you have been, Petunia. He’s just a child.”

Tuney sniffed, averting her gaze as if the words hit too close to home, before she leaned back with a smirk. "So, you're not taking him with you, then? What lie did you feed that poor boy to justify discarding him for so long? And then showing yourself to him only to abandon him here again? The great Lily Evans is not so great after all. Abandoning one son and spoiling the other rotten. If only Da and Mum could see you now," Tuney mocked at her, the words piercing her like ice shards. 

“Look,” Lily continued with gritted teeth as if Tuney never spoke, keeping a tight leash on her temper as she struggled to maintain a consoling tone. “We’ll help ease the burden. It’s not like we’re asking you to do this for free. James and I will send more money each month for his food, clothes, school supplies, and whatever else he might need. We’re not asking for charity here and we’ll make sure it doesn’t put you out.”

“More money?” Vernon’s voice rumbled from behind the newspaper, which suddenly dropped enough to reveal his interest. “How much are we talking?”

Lily ignored the greedy bastard, her focus locked on her sister. “Enough to make sure you don’t have to worry about Harry being a burden on your finances. Enough for you to take care of him properly.”

Tuney's lips pressed into a thin line, her face unreadable. “And he will be going to that… school of yours?”

Lily nodded. “Yes. He’ll be at Hogwarts during the school year. You will only need to look after him during the summers.”

There was a long pause as Tuney considered it, glancing back at Vernon who gave a noncommittal shrug as if the money outweighed all of his objections.

“You will send the money every month,” Tuney finally ordered, her voice colder than ever. “And I won’t be bothered by you and your kind showing up unannounced.”

“Alright,” Lily agreed, though she felt an ache in her chest at how impersonal, how transactional it all was. At least Petunia wasn't throwing Harry out, which would have been disastrous as it would have brought the wards crumbling down. It was...something, she supposed.

They would need to have a word with Albus. Figure out some way to ascertain the strength of the wards. They hadn't bothered before because they were all under the impression that Harry was cared for in Petunia's household. Emotions and intentions play a major role in magic, especially ancient magic like the blood wards. Merlin forbid, if the wards had weakened over the past decade, they would need to take steps to reinforce it, maybe anchor it down to different nodes. Hopefully, Petunia’s resentment hadn't eroded it away and there was enough of the foundation to augment and amplify it.

Charlie needs all the help he can get to fulfil his destiny. The world relied on them to be heroes, to free them from the blight of darkness. They could not falter. They could not fail. All of their sacrifices were in service of the betterment of society, for the greater good of humanity. 

“And don’t expect us to spoil the brat,” Petunia added in a snide voice. “We have our own child to think about.”

Lily’s jaw tightened, but she nodded. “I’m not asking you to spoil him. Just… treat him with some kindness. That’s all.”

Petunia didn’t respond, merely turning away with a dismissive flick of her hand as if to say the conversation was over.

Lily looked over at James, who remained uncharacteristically quiet throughout the course of the conversation, even if he was glaring daggers at both of them. For a man usually quick with words, often too quick, his silence spoke volumes.

James pressed a warm hand on her back, steadying her as they rose to leave.

Chapter Text

Charlie had never set foot in a muggle house before, and while he wouldn’t admit it aloud, he was more than a little curious. How did people live without magic doing everything for them? Mum always insisted that magic made life far more convenient, but she’d never actually explained how muggles got by without it. And now, here he was, trailing behind this newly discovered brother, trying to wrap his head around it all.

The whole “suddenly having a brother” thing was still strange to him. Harry had popped into his life out of nowhere. One minute Charlie was the golden child, the only kid in the family, and the next, poof! Here was Harry, looking identical to him and even set to go to Hogwarts at the same time. He wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about it. Annoyed? Maybe. Confused? Definitely. But he figured it didn’t hurt to be polite, especially since he wasn’t going to have to share his parents or his friends during the summer. Hogwarts might be another story, though...

Without having to be told, Charlie made himself scarce as his parents spoke to his aunt and uncle. As he followed Harry up the stairs, Charlie’s eyes darted around the house, taking in every detail. It wasn’t what he’d expected, not that he knew what he had been expecting. It was clean and tastefully decorated, but smaller than he imagined, and everything felt a little… cramped.

“So… how do you all live without magic?” Charlie blurted out, unable to stop himself. 

Harry turned halfway up the stairs, raising a surprised eyebrow. “Just as you do, I guess, except we use things like electricity, machines, you know. Stuff like that to make life easier.”

Charlie frowned thoughtfully as they continued upward. “How does that even work? Like, if you want a hot bath, do you… I don’t know, light a fire under the tub or something?”

Harry snorted at the image. “We could, but my aunt might just make good on her promise and chase me around the house with her frying pan. No, we’ve got machines for that. They’re called boilers. They heat the water for baths and showers. I can show you ours before you leave. And unless you're camping, or really into arson, you won’t need to light fires. There’s central heating to warm the house up and gas stoves for cooking.”

Charlie hummed as they reached the landing. “Sounds complicated.” He peered at a lightbulb fixture on the wall highlighting a weird painting, tapping it with his finger. “Is this one of those… ecklecticity things? It looks like something from Zonko’s.”

“Electricity. And yes, it is. Does the magical world really not have any idea what it is? Surely Lily must have told you all about it.”

Charlie squinted at the bulb like it might come alive. “No clue,” he admitted with a shrug. “Mum mentioned muggles use something called eklectrickery—”

“Electricity,” Harry corrected, looking far too amused for Charlie’s comfort.

“Right, right, eklectricity,” Charlie echoed, waving a hand dismissively. “She says it’s what muggles use to do stuff, like lighting their houses and—” He gestured vaguely. “Other things.”

Harry smirked. “You mean everything?”

Charlie turned to him, his curiosity piqued. “Surely it can't be used like magic?”

“I suppose you can't draw a direct comparison, but I can say that modern amenities are useful in its own way." Harry counted off on his fingers, "We use them for lighting, heating, cooling, cooking, washing clothes, keeping food fresh, travelling to places, calling people on the phone—”

“Calling people?” Charlie interrupted, his brow furrowing. “What do you mean, ‘calling’? Like shouting across the street? I know muggles can’t use the floo.”

Harry seemed to be thoroughly enjoying Charlie’s confusion. “No, not shouting. Telephones, you know...you pick up the receiver, dial a number and talk to someone on the other end. They could be miles away, even in another country, and you’d hear them like they’re right next to you.”

Charlie’s mouth fell open in amazement. “You’re telling me muggles can talk to each other over long distances without Floo powder or owls?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, we’ve been able to since the late 1800s.”

Charlie gawked at him. How haven’t wizards figured how to do that with magic when muggles have been doing it for years? “How do they do that? And without magic too?”

Harry shrugged as he knocked their secret pattern on Dudley’s bedroom to let him know they were back before inviting Charlie to his own room. “That's the might of technology. This past century in particular has seen a lot of advancements. The computer and the internet are just the latest technology revolution. Uncle Vernon is being pig-headed about it but everyone at school says it’s going to change the world.” 

Charlie nodded even if he didn’t understand what Harry was talking about. After all, it's not like muggle stuff would affect the wizarding world. When they stepped inside Harry’s room, Charlie looked around and expected...well, whatever he expected, it certainly wasn't this. It was disappointing, really. It was smaller than his own bedroom. Much, much smaller. And it was furnished minimally and kept tidy in a way his room never was. And the decorations were…different, to say the least. “Who’s that guy on your sheets?”

“Oh, that’s Dr. Strange. He’s my favourite comic book character at the moment. He’s so cool! ” Harry positively gushed. Charlie wondered if he looked just as ridiculous when he went on about brooms. “Jean Grey is another favourite of mine, even if she is a girl, because her abilities are so awesome, you know? I honestly don’t mind Magneto too, just basing off of his powers. He’s technically a villain, but his powers are amazing. He can control metal, all of it. Like, imagine pulling swords and armor right off people in battle. Iron Man is Dudley’s favourite because he’s rich and gets all the girls,” Harry explained with an exasperated eye-roll, “but I much prefer Batman.”

“Ah.” Charlie had no idea what Harry was talking about, but he really didn’t want to ask and have Harry look at him like he was dumb. After a beat, he rubbed the back of his neck and asked, mostly to avoid awkwardly staring at him. “So… what is muggle school like?”

Harry blinked at the sudden change in topic, then shrugged. “It’s alright, I guess. Bit boring. Loads of writing and tests. The teachers aren’t particularly attentive, they usually have their hands full keeping kids in line, but I like science class. We learn a lot of things about the world like why things fall, how plants grow, stuff like that. Maths isn't too bad either, once you get the hang of it. But what I really liked were the language classes.”

Charlie was surprised. “Languages? As in…more than one?”

“Yeah,” Harry smiled. “I’m learning French and German. It’s fun, learning how people speak on the other side of the world. But it’s not just the words, you also get to hear their stories, their culture, their food and festivals. It’s like visiting somewhere far away without ever leaving the classroom.”

Charlie scratched his chin. “Well, at Hogwarts, we’ll learn latin. Dead useful, that, if you want to be a decent wizard.”

“Oh? What are all the electives available?” Harry asked, genuinely curious. 

Charlie perked up a little at being asked. “There are some good ones which you get to choose during 3rd year. Let’s see…there’s COMC, that is Care of Magical Creatures, which is where you learn all about the magical creatures and how to interact with them. There’s Divination which, well, apparently Trelawney - the divination professor - is always going on about doom and gloom, reading tea leaves and crystal balls. Many of us think it’s rubbish, but it’s said to be an easy subject and is very popular because of that. Muggle Studies is another banger. Then there’s Arithmancy, which Mum likes to call magical maths, but way more complicated.”

Harry’s eyes lit up a bit at that. “Magical maths?”

“Yeah, but don’t get too excited,” Charlie said, snorting. “It’s all numbers and charts used for predicting potential and compatibility. Makes my head hurt even thinking about it. Runes is another one - Ancient Runes. That one’s more like a language course, I guess. You learn to translate old magical texts and stuff. Only nerds like to take it.”

Harry considered that, brows furrowed. “That’s all the electives available? Just 5 subjects? I thought there would be more variety..."

"I guess if someone’s really keen, they could take extra subjects privately," Charlie made a face, clearly showing how he felt about doing extra work, "and sit for their OWLs in the Ministry, but honestly, I don’t know why anyone would put themselves through that." 

"But", Harry protested, "what about subjects like physics or literature? Don’t wizards study those too?”

Charlie gave him a strange look. “What’s physics?”

Harry blinked. “You know, the study of matter? How the world around us works?”

“It's a muggle subject, isn't it? Why in Merlin’s name would a wizard need to learn such useless muggle stuff?” Charlie looked at him incredulously. “A muggle might need to learn to do things they can’t do with magic, but we wizards have magic.”

Harry bit his lip. He didn't believe muggle inventions and discoveries were useless and he knew better than to prod, but he really wanted to know more from the perspective of someone raised in the magical world. “I don’t know… I mean, just because you can do something with magic doesn’t mean you shouldn’t understand how it works without it.”

Charlie gave him a baffled look. “But why bother? If I want light, I cast Lumos. If I want to move something, I go for a Wingardium Leviosa. If something falls, I use a cushioning charm. What’s the point of knowing how it falls?”

Harry opened his mouth, then shut it. It was hard to explain. Not because Charlie was dumb, he clearly wasn’t, but it was difficult to mould his thoughts into something resembling a coherent argument. “Because it teaches you how to think,” Harry said slowly, feeling out how to express what he felt in the best possible way. “To look at a problem, break it down and figure it out. Not everything should be solved by waving a wand. Sometimes it’s good to know other ways, you know. Just in case.”

Charlie crossed his arms, now frowning severely. Right, it seemed like it was up to him to set Harry straight before things got out of hand. Brother or not, it would be disastrous for his family if Harry went around Hogwarts acting like some clueless, Muggle-loving airhead. Just the thought of being lumped in with the likes of Arthur Weasley made Charlie shudder. “But that’s the point, isn’t it? Magic is our way. I’m not saying muggles are dumb or anything, but we live in different worlds. You won’t need any of that muggle stuff at Hogwarts. If you don’t let go of that muggle way of thinking, you’re going to have a lot of problems when you’re at Hogwarts.”

Harry stared at him, seemingly taken aback by the sudden shift in tone.

Charlie pressed on at the dumbfounded look on Harry's face, beyond frustrated at how his parents completely failed in appropriately preparing Harry. If they were allowing this boy to come to Hogwarts bearing the Potter name, the least they could do is make sure he doesn't completely embarrass them in polite society. “I’m the Boy-Who-Lived. I can’t afford to have a weird muggle-loving kid associated with me. It’s hard enough as it is.”

“You have to understand,” Charlie went on, not particularly bothered by Harry’s face falling. Someone had to make Harry understand how precious their good reputation was and if it wasn’t going to be their parents, Charlie would take on the burden himself and educate this strange new addition to the Potter name. Otherwise, Charlie risked becoming a laughingstock at Hogwarts and that was just intolerable. “The Potters are a big name in our world. Mum and Dad are war heroes. Everyone knows us. People already have a lot of expectations of me. That means something. People will be watching me when we get to Hogwarts. If you act strange, it won’t just reflect badly on you; it’ll reflect badly on me, on all of us.”

Before Harry could even think of a response, the door creaked open, and in stepped a chubby blond boy, slightly taller and a touch older than Harry, with a doughy face and small, watchful eyes. Charlie stared at him, puzzled for a heartbeat, before the pieces fit together. This had to be Harry’s cousin. Their cousin? 

The thought sat strangely with him. Mum had rarely spoken about her side of the family, and when she did, it was only in passing. All Charlie really remembered was that they were muggles and she wasn't close to her sister - something about petty jealousy and deep bitterness. That it was natural, normal even, that muggles would be envious of their magic. Charlie wondered if this cousin was jealous of Harry’s magic, if he resented Harry for having magic, even if Harry barely had enough of it to make it into Hogwarts.

The cousin sauntered into the room without so much as a knock - so rude - and planted himself on a squishy bag-like thing on the floor. “Back so soon, Harry?” 

“How is it soon?” Harry scoffed irritably. “Lunchtime is long over and I’m starving.”

Charlie’s stomach growled in sympathy. He'd been looking forward to the feast the house elves at Potter Manor had prepared for them after the tiring shopping day. Instead, they’d had to drop Harry back here and the delay was starting to make him regret not grabbing something from the Leaky earlier. He still didn’t understand why Harry didn’t want to come to Potter Manor, but whatever.

The blond boy didn't once shoot dirty looks at him, which caught Charlie off guard, especially after the open hostility they’d faced from the adults. “Mum kept your food in a thermos. It’s in the kitchen.”

Harry grimaced, “I’ll take it later then.”

Dudley shrugged. “She said you’d probably be hungry after all that shopping.” He tilted his head curiously, looking between Harry and Charlie. “So, you’re Harry’s brother, then?”

Harry straightened up, the tense air from their conversation diffusing. “Ah, where are my manners? Dudley, this is Charlie. Charlie, meet Dudley. I call him Big D.”

Still taken aback by Dudley’s calm demeanor, Charlie finally offered a cautious, “Hello.”

Dudley gave Charlie a friendly nod. “You’re really twins, aren’t you? You both look like clones, except you know, the eyes and hair. It’s kinda freaky.”

“Yeah…” Charlie muttered, still uneasy with the idea that someone who looked exactly like him had been living an entirely different life. “So, is your room like Harry’s then? I thought there’d be more toys here.”

Dudley frowned at Harry and spoke with a weird emphasis. “This isn’t Harry’s room. This is my second bedroom. Harry’s room is downstairs.”

Harry coughed, flushing a bright red. “Yeah, um…yeah, uh, my cupboard.”

“...Your cupboard.”

“Yep! It’s a very cosy cupboard.”

Charlie looked at the two like they were mad. Harry looked sheepish. Dudley looked smug.

Maybe it was the lack of magic that got to them and made them go crazy. Maybe muggles just don’t know any better. 

Even in his head, the thought sounded absurd. The Dursleys didn’t seem mad, just incredibly rude. And the cousin wasn’t too intolerable. But who in their right mind calls a cupboard their room? Maybe it was a muggle thing, Charlie reasoned. Didn’t Mum grow up in a muggle household too? Did she have her own cupboard as a child? Why didn’t she give Charlie one? Dammit, he wanted his own cupboard too!

After staring at the two of them making weird eyebrow gestures at each other for a long moment, Charlie cleared his throat and announced, “I have something to give you.” He pulled out a shrunken package from his pocket and tapped it once with his wand to enlarge it. Dudley leaned forward with an awed look that had Charlie puffing in pride. “That is so cool!”

Charlie awkwardly thrust the gift box towards Harry. The bright red paper shimmered as golden snitches zipped across its surface, their enchanted wings flapping furiously. “I know, um, your aunt and uncle will probably give you stuff, but...well, it didn’t sit right with me that Mum and Dad never gave you anything for your birthday. So…I hope you like it.”

Harry looked shocked before a pleased, if somewhat hesitant, smile spread across his face as he accepted the box. “Thank you, Charlie! It’s really nice of you.”

Dudley, perched on the edge of his seat like an overexcited puppy, prodded Harry in the arm. “Well, what are you waiting for? Open it already!”

Harry chuckled, carefully unwrapping the box. He grinned when he saw the contents. “You got me a chess set!”

“It’s a wizarding chess set,” Charlie explained. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s, um, enchanted to talk to you and suggest moves. So…you might not want to use it around muggles. But Mum always said muggle chess is similar, so I thought…”

Harry’s face lit up, a smile so wide it nearly split his face in two. “That’s—wow. That’s amazing!” He opened the box and lifted a knight. The tiny horse snorted with pride, shaking its head as if ready to charge. Harry let out a startled laugh and carefully placed it back.

Dudley leaned in, gaping at the tiny, animated figures. “Whoa! They’re alive?”

Charlie felt his ears burn. This is the first time he’d seen such an effusive reaction to magic. “Not alive. They’re enchanted items meant to interact with the players.”

 “It talks! That’s insane, dude.”

“Wait until you play a full game,” Charlie said, sitting back down on the bed and watching their excitement with bemusement. “It can get a bit loud when they argue about who should be sacrificed, so you shouldn’t show it to anyone who doesn’t know about magic. Now,” Charlie added with a teasing smile, “you’ll have no excuse. By the time we get to Hogwarts, I’ll expect you to give me a good match.”

Harry grinned, eyes glowing. “You’re on. Just don’t cry when I beat you.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that,” Charlie shot back, laughing. “You’ll need all the practice you can get.”

Harry laughed with him and it felt nice. Was this what having a brother felt like? “Thank you for this. I actually have a birthday gift for you too!”

Charlie started in surprise. “You have a gift for me? But it’s your birthday!”

“And tomorrow is your birthday!” was Harry’s brilliant retort.

Charlie narrowed his eyes suspiciously, though his lips twitched in amusement. “You’ve had, like, zero time to get me anything. What did you do, conjure it out of thin air?”

“Ha ha. Very funny.” Harry went off to rummage in his wardrobe and quickly came back with an unwrapped box of a product Charlie didn’t recognise. 

Biting his lip, Harry nervously handed him the box and explained. “It’s the latest Walkman. It’s a music player. You put the batteries in, then the cassette of your choice and you can hear your favourite music. You seemed curious about technology, so I thought you might like it.”

Charlie took the item with reverent hands. “Wow! Wait, does this run on that eklectrikity?”

Harry nodded as Dudley snorted at his pronunciation. “Yeah, it’s an electronic device. It’s pretty simple to use, I swear.”

Dudley smiled at him. It was a really nice smile. Weren’t the Dursleys supposed to be mean? “And I have a set of mixtapes that I was going to give Harry. But since he’s gifting you the Walkman, I’ll gift the mixtapes to you.” The cousin was really nothing at all like what Mum had told him. “There are a bunch of genres, so you can see what you like.”

Charlie was ecstatic to try out muggle music. He’d heard so much about it from Sirius. To have his own music collection would be great! But then his face fell as realization hit him. “Sorry, but… I can’t accept it.” He reluctantly held the box back out toward Harry. “Magic and eklectrickery don’t mix. Mum and Dad say muggle stuff goes haywire around magic, sometimes it even explodes.”

Dudley let out a low whistle, as though imagining sparks flying and circuits bursting.

Harry frowned, looking genuinely confused. “But I’m around electricity all the time. I watch TV, play the Atari and use machines. I've never shorted them out. Ever.”

Dudley nodded in confirmation. “It’s true. Harry’s never broken the telly or anything. I’m a few years older, so I’d remember if he ever did. I’d never let him forget it otherwise.”

“Still…I don’t think Mum and Dad would allow it.”

“I doubt you’ve ever used muggle technology. So, you won’t know until you ask them,” Harry pointed out. “Just don’t push your magic into any muggle device and it should be fine.”

“Or,” Dudley smirked, “You could use it first and ask permission later.”

Charlie smirked back. That was more like his style. 

Chapter Text

Harry felt hurt and was confused about feeling hurt. He felt hollowed out, raw and unsteady, and had to press his lips together to stop it from trembling. Perhaps he was trembling all over. He didn’t know. He didn’t know why he was feeling this way and he hated not knowing. 

The brief handover, where Lily and James hadn’t even deigned to say goodbye, left him feeling cast aside and discarded all over again. Only Charlie gave him a parting smile and a wave before shuffling after his parents. 

As Harry looked out the window to see the Potters leave without a backward glance, the truth struck him with brutal clarity: they truly did not care about him. Not in the way a parent should. Not in the way family should. All the harsh words Aunt Petunia had spoken about them, all those times Harry thought that surely, they had to be missing some crucial information…All of that now rang true. 

The realisation, which in hindsight was so obvious, stung and Harry hated that he could feel his eyes prickling. 

Which he really didn’t understand. He had never known the Potters. Not really. He’d never seen them before today, except the photos of Lily that Aunt Petunia had shown him. He had his aunt, uncle and cousin. He had their love and support. He had a family, so why did he care about his parents’ lack of concern for him? Why did he care when they clearly didn’t care for him?

Harry felt a hand heavy on his shoulder and turned to see Uncle Vernon looking at him with an angry flush still painting his cheeks and concerned eyes. All the fragile self-control Harry had been clinging to shattered like spun sugar and his vision blurred as tears flooded his eyes. 

Before he could stop himself, he felt the first tears spill over and the hand pulled him in as it had so many times before. Harry gladly moved forward, burying his head in Uncle Vernon’s stomach as he futilely fought to stifle his sobs. 

His uncle’s grip tightened around him, as solid and steady as ever. Harry felt so safe and loved being ensconced in these familiar arms, in a way he never had in the Potters’ presence, that he finally broke down crying.

Vernon was pained to see the boy he had come to regard almost like a second son in such anguish. His own childhood had been harsh and unforgiving. His father, a strict military man, had been rigid and unkind. The cruel discipline and lack of affection left their scars on his body and mind, and had shaped Vernon’s own approach to parenting. In response, he had taken to indulging Dudley and, to a lesser extent, Harry. It was Petunia who took on the role of enforcing discipline while Vernon had always leaned towards spoiling the children.

Seeing Harry’s pain brought back memories of his own difficult childhood, of his own strict father and his distant mother, and it hurt him deeply. 

“There, there, kiddo,” Vernon said, his voice soft, though his usual gruffness still lingered at the edges. “It’s not you, alright? It’s them. It’s their loss, not yours.”

Harry shook his head against Vernon’s shirt. “But…even when I have magic…they don’t care about me at all.” 

“Because they’re fools, that’s why,” Vernon replied sharply. Ignoring the growing wet patch on his shirt with long practice, he pulled the boy down to sit with him on the couch. Vernon wasn’t getting any younger and he really didn’t want to deal with a sore back bending down like this on top of everything else today. “They don’t know what they’re losing. They don’t deserve you at all. And you don’t need such people dragging you down in your life.”

Harry sniffled, still tightly clutching at Vernon’s shirt as they sat down before burrowing into Vernon’s side. “I… I thought they’d be different. I don’t know why. Aunt Petunia described them perfectly…But…I thought maybe...”

Vernon let out a long, exasperated breath, rubbing slow circles on Harry’s back. “Sometimes… Sometimes people just aren’t what you hope they will be. Doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you. If they can’t see what a good lad you are, that’s on them.”

Harry pulled back slightly, looking up at Vernon with tear-streaked cheeks and wide puffy eyes. “Do you really mean that?”

“‘Course I do,” Vernon said gruffly, his moustache twitching as he tried to hold back the emotion in his voice. He smoothed a hand down the back of the child’s head a few times, knowing it would soothe him. “Look, you’ve got us, haven’t you? Me, Petunia, Dudley? We’re your family, Harry, and you are a part of ours. We care about you. Take strength from that.”

“Thanks, Uncle Vernon,” Harry said, his voice small and hoarse from crying.

Vernon gave him a firm pat on the shoulder, clearing his throat. “No more tears today, alright? It’s your birthday and those fools have gone and made you cry. Forget about them and look forward to living your life well. And if they ever come sniffing around here again, I’ll give them a piece of my mind, see if I don’t. Maybe I’ll even bust out my hunting gun.”

Harry gave his uncle a watery smile. “Careful. They’d get utterly terrified.”

“As they should be,” Vernon huffed with a smile, ruffling Harry’s hair. “Now, come on. Let’s get you something sweet, eh? Dudley’s probably eaten half the ice cream tub by now. Did they at least buy you lunch while you were out?”

Incensed to find that Lily hadn’t even bothered to feed him, Petunia plied him with delicious macaroni cheese, roasted veg and Harry’s favourite, treacle pudding. She even let the boys push away their greens without much scolding.

Everyone in the Dursley household silently agreed to give Harry some time to process his emotions before they confronted him about his trip to the magical world. They had long ago learned to avoid confrontation with Harry when he was in one of his moods. The boy was the kindest and softest of souls until he felt cornered. Then he would blow up like a volcano, exploding with so much anger from his tiny body. So, they gave him space, knowing that it would be a while before the storm of emotions would pass.

In the meantime, there really wasn’t much time to prepare for a party and no one was in the mood for one, so they went to catch a movie in the cinema - Petunia had to insist on the perfectly sensible Robin Hood movie rather than the latest Rocky movie all three of them were eyeing, only reaching a consensus when she promised they would all watch the new Terminator movie within the 1st week of its release. Boys.

That evening, as Petunia prepared dinner and Vernon cut the veggies up for her, Harry’s sadness finally turned to anger when she brought up his trip with Lily and James. “They’re such awful people! After dumping me here, they come to see me after 10 years, see the state of my clothes, see the bruises on my skin and do nothing!” Harry then paused before giving his brother some grace. “Charlie might have not realised what exactly it meant, though. He seemed very…sheltered. Nice, but definitely sheltered.”

Petunia hummed as she stirred the stew, mentally making a note (should she encourage Harry’s curiosity in the Potter child or snip it in the bud?), but before she could reply, Harry continued, pacing around the dining table like an angry cat. “They left me here with you thinking you were being mean to me! Aunt Petunia’s right about everything she said. They’re selfish and heartless and…and mean! They thought I was miserable here, but they didn’t care. They just walked away and left me behind without a second thought!”

“Well, to be fair, they did offer to pay more, hoping to bribe us to ‘treat’ you better,” Vernon commented, too busy cutting the carrots that he didn’t immediately notice when the rest of them stopped what they were doing to stare at him. “What? That means they’re either feeling guilty or they want to keep your ‘ill-treatment’ quiet. Or both. Possibly both.”

Dudley shook his head as he set the table. “What does it matter, anyway? They thought he was being hurt and they still left him here. Does it really matter what they wanted when the right thing to do would have been to take him away?” 

Freezing at his own words, Dudley and Harry blanched in realisation before looking at Petunia and Vernon fearfully. “You did know they wouldn’t take Harry away, right?”

“Of course I knew, Duddikins. I wouldn’t have initiated this plan if I did not,” Petunia dismissed their concern with more confidence than she felt and turned her back to the rest of them, missing the face Dudley made at the nickname, partly to season the stew but mostly to hide her small vicious smile. 

She shouldn’t, she really shouldn’t, but Petunia couldn’t help but feel gleeful that Lily’s son was finally seeing her for who she really is. Everyone always thought Lily was so great and always dismissed Petunia without another glance, their parents included. That Lily’s son had chosen her over his own mother. Over precious, perfect Lily. Oh, she could have done a little jig if she was alone right now.

Petunia and Vernon had been really worried that Harry would get charmed by all the magic and by their riches and fame, and that he would go to them of his own accord. She hadn’t exactly lied when she told him that they had never checked up on him, by letter or in person, or that they had left him behind while they enjoyed their riches and fame. But, well, she might have been a tad… overzealous …in her descriptions of Lily’s and James Potter’s motivations. So, it was surprising that Harry still held hopes for the Potters. 

Petunia did feel for the boy, she wasn’t a monster, but she would be lying if she said she was sad at the manner in which they did the bare minimum for Harry. It meant that Petunia was the better mother, the better person. And that spiel about blood wards and Harry’s presence protecting them would have been more convincing if Lily had bothered to master the art of lying after all these years.

No, whatever it was, it had nothing to do with theirs or Harry’s safety.

Vernon, while sympathetic to the poor boy’s plight, remained silent, as did Dudley, who was more interested in the snacks he was bringing out to the table than Harry’s outburst, even if he knew better than to stuff his face when Harry was pouring his heart out. 

“They think I’m just some inconvenience to be discarded.” Harry raged on, “How can they be so cruel? How can they just leave their own child without a care in the world? They never even bothered to see if I was alright!” 

The Dursley parents exchanged loaded glances but said nothing. 

“Why do you care when they don’t?” Harry asked, his face twisted in both anger and pain. “I’m the one they left behind and they don’t even care if I’m okay. So why should you? Why should anyone care about me when my own parents can’t be bothered? It doesn’t make any sense at all!”

“Doesn’t it?” Petunia placed the ladle down with more force than necessary to stare down at the tearful boy. It enraged her to no end that after she and Vernon ensured so many peaceful, happy birthdays for the boys, Lily and her ilk made Harry cry so much on his birthday.

“Their failure to love you isn’t a reflection of your worth, it’s a reflection of theirs. You’re not unwanted, Harry. You’re just unwanted by them. But the world’s bigger than their tiny hearts.”

“You listen to me, boy” she said, coming closer, wiping her hands on her apron aggressively as though to rid herself of the spiking anger she felt. “You’re worth more than their neglect, more than their arrogance, more than anything they give you. They don’t get to decide what you’re worth. They can’t, because they never even bothered to know you. You’ve got a sharp mind, sharper than many grown men I know. You’re kind when you don’t have to be. And you’ve got grit, more than anyone your age should ever need. If they can’t see that, then they’re blind fools, plain and simple”

Harry’s lower lip wobbled and he started sniffling. “But it still hurts.”

“Of course it does,” Petunia replied curtly, her own eyes damp in a way she would never admit. “That pain is proof that you care more than they ever did. But that's not a weakness. Don’t you dare let it convince you you’re worthless. You hear me? You’ll never be worthless.”

With another sniffle, Harry launched himself at his aunt and buried his face against her middle, hugging her tight. She has always been a bit tetchy about physical affection with him, but she never pushed him away when he needed the comfort. As he expected, her one hand cupped his head tenderly while the other rubbed soothing circles on his back. Uncle Vernon’s heavy tread sounded behind them, and after a moment, he bent down and wrapped his arms around both of them.

“Oi, don’t leave me out,” Dudley called out, and before anyone could stop him, he threw his own solid weight into the huddle. The whole family swayed under the force of it, and Aunt Petunia let out a startled huff, but she didn’t pull away.

Harry clung tighter to them all, feeling so full of warmth and happiness that he thought he might burst from it.

Aunt Petunia was the first to extricate herself, gently but firmly peeling Harry’s arms away. She smoothed down her dress with a flustered look, cheeks faintly pink, “Right, that’s enough of that.” Clearing her throat, she headed for the hob again. “Food will be ready in about forty minutes, so no more sulking in the meantime.”

Harry gave her a sheepish smile, wiping his eyes quickly. “Charlie gave me a wizarding chess set for my birthday,” he confessed. “It’s really quite clever, the pieces talk and move all on their own. I—I thought maybe I’d just put it away, you know. Play it in my room, but…”

“Chess, eh?” Vernon interrupted loudly, his tone cheerfully booming, as though determined to bulldoze through the heavy mood still hanging in the air. He ignored Petunia’s sharp sideways glance. “Now, there’s a proper game! I used to be rather good at it myself.”

Harry blinked and then lit up. “Really? You’d play with me? Even if it’s a magical game?”

“Well, why ever not? As long as it’s not dangerous to any of us…” 

Before he could change his mind, Harry dashed upstairs, his feet pounding in excitement. By the time he came back down, breathless and carrying the chess set, Uncle Vernon had already cleared the dining table with Dudley’s help. Together, they all set up the board, the carved stone soldiers snapping to attention in their squares with sharp little salutes.

Even Aunt Petunia, though she shook her head at them in exasperation, lingered in the doorway, ladle in hand, watching as Harry read aloud the rules from the beginner manual tucked into the box. 

Soon enough, Vernon was leaning in scowling as he heatedly argued with a particularly stubborn rook while Harry laughed freely for the first time that day. Dudley, the self-appointed referee, hollered unhelpful suggestions to both sides from the sidelines and Petunia kept up a sharp, scathing commentary on the entire lot of them.

By the time the delicious smell of roast wafted from the kitchen, the dining table was alive with chaos and laughter echoing off the walls. Yes, Harry could say that it was a wonderful birthday, after all.

On September 1st, the entire Dursley family set out for London early that morning, their car filled with excitement. Despite the greyness enveloping the city, the long ride through the busy streets was filled with music, off-tune singing and Vernon’s creative insults at the other drivers.

Once they reached Kings Cross Station, the Dursleys got out of their prized Vauxhall and prepared to say their goodbyes. Petunia fussed over Harry, brushing down his clothes. “Remember to write to us regularly. We want to know how you’re settling in. Are you sure you packed everything you need?”

Harry nodded, trying to keep a patient expression as he answered the same question for the thousandth time today. “Yes, Aunt Petunia. I’ve got everything.”

Vernon patted his shoulder approvingly. “Good lad. And don’t forget, if you need anything, just send a letter. We may not be part of that magic world, but we’re still here to give advice. If there's an emergency, Petunia can always come to Hogwarts. So, don't hesitate to contact us.”

He opened the boot and lifted Harry’s heavy trunks and backpack onto a trolley. Despite being nervous about sending his 11-year old nephew to a boarding school he couldn’t even bloody visit, Vernon wheeled the trolley towards the large, bustling entrance of the station (silently wishing, not for the first time, that Harry was headed to a normal school instead of entering this weird, unknown place. At least, Dudley will be going to his old school).

Harry trailed close behind, a jumble of nerves and gratitude as Vernon wheeled the trolley all the way inside the station towards the blank section of wall between Platforms 9 and 10. 

“...remember to be careful with your belongings. And make sure you—”

“—eat enough fruits and veggies, right?” Harry finished with a small smile. “Don’t worry, Aunt Petunia, I’ll be careful.”

Petunia added sternly, “And keep up with your normal studies. I don’t want you falling back. You did pack your St. Edmund’s school books, right?”

Harry felt like a bobblehead with how much he was nodding. “Yes, I’ve got everything I need.”

Vernon looked at his watch and saw there was about 14 minutes before the train left. “Right then. Make sure you enjoy yourself at Hogwarts. Study well, but don’t forget to have fun; join some clubs and engage in sports. Now, you have to walk straight into that wall, don’t you?” 

At Harry’s confirming nod, he gave a long sigh and shook his head, “This all just seems mental. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stick with St. Edmund’s...” Just as he was speaking, a teenager wearing jeans and a Star Wars t-shirt strode past, a wicked-looking black owl perched on his shoulder. With his luggage rattling in front of him, they all goggled as he and his luggage disappeared behind the wall.

Petunia reached over and patted her poor husband’s arm, well aware of the fear and reluctance he was trying so hard to disguise at letting Harry out of his sight and out of his protection. “The boy needs to train his magic. He can only do that at Hogwarts.”

That seemed to settle it. For all of Vernon’s muttering and worry, no one argued anymore. Instead, they drew Harry into a heartfelt hug. One by one, they held onto him before reluctantly letting go. Dudley stepped forward the last, wrapping his cousin in a bear hug that lifted Harry clean off the ground. “Good luck, Harry. I hope you have a great time. And, uh, don’t forget to write!”

Harry wheezed, laughing as Dudley finally put him back on the ground. “Thanks, Dudley,” he managed, straightening his glasses with a crooked grin. “I will.”

Who needed the Potters when he had his family right here?