Harry Potter Harry Potter Magi Scholaricus

#1
The HP/Negima crossover

So some time ago I was going over those old posts in the HP section, and I think it was about here that there was a brief discussion about possible HP/Negima cross. So It got me thinking, how would I handle that cross? And then there was this picture, and it just didn't want to get out of my mind. So I wrote it.

In as few words as possible: this is a merging of HP and Negima worlds, with more Negima-style magic. I plan to take idea from both timelines and play around with them some. Can't tell more than that without spoilers, so let us end on that note.

Without further ado then:
 
#2
Prologue

Everything started in a small town in the county of Surrey, going by the name of Little Whinging. There, one September night, at the steps of a particular nondescript house located at number 4 Privet Drive, a small wicker basket was laid, and on top of it, a latter in a blank, unaddressed envelope. Inside it, secured in a number of warm blankets, slept an infant with fuzz of black hair. At the side of its face a small wound was carefully dressed with a small piece of gauze, that nonetheless seemed oversized on the baby's head.

Few steps away from the basket stood a man of truly gigantic proportions, weeping quietly, and blowing his nose in a handkerchief the size of small towel. But few moments earlier his own hands laid the basket on those particular steps, and he was still in grief about the terrible tragedy of the night before.

A small cat watched all that with bright green eyes, luminous in the dark of the night. It had sat there for a long time, before the giant man arrived, before the sun has even fully set behind the horizon. And it could possibly stay there for hours still, motionless and unbothered by the passage of time, like only cats truly could, only in a quiet whoosh of fire, it's lone vigil was disturbed, and it wasn't alone any more.

The face that greeted it was known to every man, woman and child of the Inner World in England, and even foreign lands.

With his long hair and beard greyed to the point of being white, dressed smartly in long black overcoat of severe cut, stood Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Magwump,
and, as of yesterday, quite possibly the most powerful being on the face of Earth.

But above all else, at that very moment he was a very old, and very tired man. Wrinkles lining his head did not seem that deep for a dozen years, and the bags under his eyes spoke volumes about the ordeals he had to face this past twenty four hours. To those who has known him more closely, the fact that he arrived only now to this place, spoke even louder.

With a drown-out sigh, the man seemed to deflate even further, and half-sat, half-collapsed upon the stone wall, next to the cat.

~•~

"I should have known, I would meet you here, Minerva" Albus spoke tiredly.

When he turned next, instead of the cat stood a wizened old woman in a neat suit dress, and a light green overcoat, with a small green beret resting on her head. She too looked distinctly tired, and a certain redness around her eyes indicated that she may have been crying not too long ago.

"Welcome back, Albus", she answered. "You look awful. Have you slept any since last night?"

"Ah, yes I think I did manage to catch a little nap this afternoon... but never you mind, my dear, I will have plenty of time enough to rest in my grave. For now there are more important matters at hand", he looked at the giant still standing in front of the steps. "Much more important."

For a moment Minerva looked like she might object, but she shook her had tiredly, seemingly leaving the lecture for another occasion. Probably one where he wouldn't call her on her hypocrisy. She looked like she didn't sleep at all as well. Instead she sat back down, and for a long minute they watched in silence.

"Albus, what happened there?" she asked finally. "It just... it seems so sudden. It was only on Monday that I received a letter from Lily, happily nursing young Harry, and now..."

"I'm afraid I do not know. By the time I arrived everything was already done. The house was half in ruins, and the grounds looked like the battlefield. I only found young Harry crying in the only room at all resembling undamaged. Of Lily and James, there was no trace, but I cannot think of anything short of death that would make them abandon him so."

"But how could that..." Minerva tried to ask, but the words failed her, and only her lips opened and closed helplessly trying to find a way to express everything she felt.

"He seemed so strong. So much above... With every mad adventure I thought that was it, that he couldn't possibly... but then he went and there was something even more crazy... I-I thought, each time I thought he couldn't... a- and even poor Lily..."

Her words trailed of, and a small strangled sob escaped her lips. She stopped herself and forcibly wiped the beginnings of new tears from her eyes. Minerva was never one for open shows of grief. For all the years he would known her, he only saw her cry once or try. She'd always rather keep her grief inside, at least until no one was around to watch. That she has broken so, only showed how much she was shaken. Albus slowly moved and embraced her with one arm, offering whatever comfort he could.

But he did not speak a word. His own thoughts were too dark for comfort. He didn't have facts, only suspicions, and those alone painted a foreboding picture. He did not dare speak of them here, not wanting to burden anyone with them. At least not yet, while there was still hope.

Only earlier this evening Severus finally called him from the ruins of the lost city of Iram in Rub' al Khali, where he found the guardians destroyed, magnificent pillars broken, and the rest of the prison pristine and deserted. How that could have happened, he could only guess, and there was precious little time for guessing.

What was almost certain, was the fact that James and Lily Potter did not survive last night. He couldn't imagine any other reason for them to abandon their child without a word or guardian, or to contact anyone when they were attacked and their home ruined. He could only hope that however James' life was claimed, he did not sell it cheap.

That Harry Potter miraculously survived with only a scratch certainly indicated that whoever attack Godrick's Hollow did not leave unscathed, or perhaps did not leave at all. But without further proof, Albus could only assume the worst. And the worst assume he did.

Sometime last night the...

“Is this really alright, Albus?” Minerva's words interrupted his thoughts. He turned his head and saw her looking towards the steps, where the child was sleeping peacefully. “To leave him here alone like that? And with only a letter...”

Dumbledore wanted to reassure her, that yes, it was perfectly alright to leave Harry here, that indeed it was the best possible solution, but the words caught in his throat. Truth was, he did not think it the best solution, but other matters, more important than young Harry required his attention, and he could barely spare this brief moment to supervise. He could perhaps ask Hagrid or Minerva to bring young Harry during the day, and he knew they would readily agreed, but the Dursleys were not fond of magic, and for the sake of the boy it was best not to antagonise them. He composed the latter carefully to leave all the inner world matters out of it, and it should serve better in that role. The neighbourhood was peaceful and nothing would happen here. And perhaps he was just making up excuses to avoid this sad duty.

“I hope so, Minerva.” he said finally. “I really do...”

~•~

Some time later a breeze swept the once again empty front yard of number 4 Privet Drive, gently ruffling the neat hedges. Inside his basket, Harry Potter rolled over, one small hand closing on the blank envelope, inside which was a tale he would not learn for many years. He slept on blissfully unaware of the things to come, as did all other peoples of England. He could not know that at this very moment, few choice people meeting secretly in the heart of the hidden society were frantically preparing for war that would not come.

~•~

Nearly ten years later, a bright little pop icon at the bottom left corner of the screen, announced that a new email message appeared in the inbox of one Vernon Dursley, director of Grunnings, proud father of an eleven years old Dudley Dursley, and considerably less proud uncle of one Harry James Potter.

The mouse moved and a fat finger clicked to open the message.

From: Hogwarts School of... | Latter of Invitation - Dear Sir or Madam, We are pleased to inform you that Harry Potter have been enrolled for the preparatory program...
A few tense seconds later, the same finger, but more pale, with a considerable force hit the 'delete' button on the keyboard.

[hr]

1. You know, I had plans to make this a quite light hearted story, but then I thought everything through and the number of skeletons I found in both canon closets just knocked me to the floor.

2. I have some plans for this, so I'm starting slowly. Mainly a bit of a world building, and fleshing out characters. Expect next installment to be mostly the same.

3. I planned to place a few small hints, but on the second look I think they came out rather heavy-handed. Here's hoping not everything will be painfully obvious from the start.

4. Not much Negima here yet. Well it will not appear untill a bit later in the story, when we get to Diagon Alley. Couldn't do much about it, really.
 
#3
Chapter 1 Part 1

July the twenty forth, came to Little Whinging as bright and sunny Monday, mayhap too hot for some, but otherwise the picture perfect of an ideal summer day. At number four Privet Drive the three inhabitants were all occupied like most other summer days. Mrs Dursley was in the kitchen, peeling some potatoes, which activity she didn't much mind, and which was normal. A couple steps from her Harry Potter was helping her by cutting the onions for the stew, which activity Mrs Dursley very much hated, and thus left to him. That too was normal. Behind the wall, in the living room, sprawled on the sofa was Dudley Dursley, watching the sixty inches television set on the opposite wall, which played his favourite cartoon. That also was very much the norm.

What was less than normal, although, like Mrs Dursley stated, still all too common an occurrence, was a black eye on Harry's face, and angry red teeth marks on Dudley's arm. But after a stern word with Harry, and some pampering of Dudley, all was forgotten and forgiven. Boys after all, would always be boys, like Mr Dursley often stated, and Mrs Dursley grudgingly learned to accept.

When the old antique clock in the living room rang five o'clock, the stew was simmering on the stove, and mashed potatoes were warm and ready. Harry had joined Dudley, watching the TV in a comfortable armchair some safe distance away from the sofa. Aunt Petunia was still moving about making sure everything was ready for her husband’s return. Uncle Vernon liked to be greeted with a warm meal, and a cup of tea when he arrived from work, and didn't hesitate to openly voice his disapproval when something was not up to his high standards.

At precisely three minutes after five o'clock, the front door opened to show Vernon Dursley, in his expensive business suit. It was immediately apparent that something was not right. His steps were stiff, and his plump face seemed a bit pale. He stepped with into the living room with all the grace of raging bull, and zeroed in straight on Harry.

“Boy! To your cupboard!” he all but shouted. And when Harry tried to open his mouth, a loud “Now!” was added.

Harry decided that it was better to comply. Uncle Vernon's anger was usually of the quiet, simmering kind, hiding beneath the surface, where he was harsher, with biting words and a sharp tongue, but ultimately more withdrawn. It was a rare sight to see the man lose his temper in any way.

Before Harry even had a chance to leave the room, uncle Vernon turned to Dudley and said with a finger pointed at the door, “You too, out!”

In an unusual display of common sense the boy got up from the sofa and scuttled out after Harry. A moment later the door to the living room slammed shut leaving two very confused ten-year-olds. They turned to each other and blinked in confusion.

“What's gotten into dad?” Dudley asked smartly.

“How do I know?”

They stared some more, before they remembered that as of this morning they were mortal enemies once again, and Dudley struck Harry on the arm.

“Bet it's your fault!” he growled.

Whatever Harry was going to answer to that scathing remark remained unsaid, because at that moment the door opened, and an angry looking Vernon Dursley yelled “I said OUT!” and shut the door back again. The boys run each to their own room without further protest.

~•~

Harry Potter breathed out slowly, once again in the safety of his own closet. Looking up he glanced at the neatly painted wall upon which rested a small picture of two girls smiling brightly beneath the Big Ben. Aunt Petunia gave him the picture a few years back on his birthday. She said it was the latest picture she had together with his mother, the summer before she started to attend her boarding school. Harry would often look at the picture, trying to imagine what his mum must have been like, but it was hard to imagine the bright red-headed girl as his mother, with her not being much older than he himself was now. Above the picture hung his only other important item – a long wooden staff, partially wrapped in white cloth. He could spend hours looking over both. It always calmed him down, and helped to elevate his spirits.

Whatever people may believe, Harry quite liked his closet of a bedroom. It could even be argued that he had chosen the room himself. When he was small, he used to sleep in Dudley's second bedroom, but he wasn't overly fond of it, even if it was much bigger than his current lodging. The reason of cause was that, even though he slept there, it was still a DUDLEY'S room. Which meant that Dudley, could come an go as he pleased, and leave all the stuff he currently didn't use there. In other words it was a glorified storeroom. Whenever Harry tried to complain to uncle Vernon, the man would look at him with his usual condescension, and say that he could always sleep outside if he didn't like it. The one time that, in a fit of childish pique, he tried to do just that, he was brought in and thoroughly scolded by aunt Petunia, while uncle Vernon laughed.

It wasn't until Harry's seventh birthday, or so, not long after the zoo incident, that he got into another scrap with Dudley, which soon came to blows. Unlike some earlier times, Harry gave just as he received. By the time that uncle Vernon arrived from downstairs thoroughly angered by all the shouting and clatter, Harry managed to score a kick to the stomach, and a bloodied lip. Dudley in turn made Harry a couple nasty bruises, and was just about to start pounding his head against the wall. After some harsh words to the both of them, the whole matter got resolved rather quickly. Dudley of course, got off scot free, the bastard. Harry on the other hand was grabbed by the ear and locked in the cupboard, where he was to 'sit until he realised his mistakes'.

When for a hundredth time, to the question 'if he has learned yet', Harry responded with a resounding 'NO', uncle Vernon has finally decided that if he didn't want to learn, he could as well sleep in the closet, to which Harry has shouted 'FINE'. And... to his own surprise, as much as to the others, he found that he actually liked it here. It was small, and crumpled, even with Harry's rather meagre possessions, but it was his very own place in the house, and no one usually bothered him there. Even Dudley thought it beneath him to claim the small cupboard under the stairs. Harry liked the peace.

Still he wondered whatever peeved uncle Vernon so. He seemed positively livid, and he even yelled at Dudley. Almost no one ever yelled at Dudley. He was like one of those holy cows they had in India or wherever. Harry was sure, that most days Dudley could steal uncle Vernon car and crash it into a tree, and still get his ice cream after dinner. He would probably somehow make it Harry's fault anyway. God knew, he did that enough.

Whatever got to Vernon must have been something big. Maybe that what's his face, the other firm director, finally ditched the negotiations. Harry didn't really understand what it was all about, but Mr Dursley certainly complained about it a whole lot all of last week.

Whatever It was it was clearly important. Maybe he should learn what it was about and try to help somehow. He didn't like the Dursleys, not by any stretch of imagination, but happy Dursleys still meant a good life for him. Yeah, after some thought it was clear what he should do.

With a new-found determination, Harry quietly opened the door of his closet. He would sneak up and listen at the door. It wasn't like uncle Vernon would notice him listening from inside the room...

~•~

Harry didn't have any luck listening at the door. As it happened Dudley somehow came to the same brilliant conclusion, and the squabbling that ensued, met with uncle Vernon's red face and a severe dressing down that left them both grounded.

Neither Harry nor Dudley were happy about that, but surprisingly Dudley had no more luck weaselling out of the punishment than Harry.

Dinner that day was only served when the sun begun to set, and was a very quiet affair. Where Mr Dursley would usually complain loudly and at length about the current subject of his ire. Be it Secretary of State for Work and Pensions, or the 'that idiot' the president of the United States, or even bad traffic, there was hardly time for silence at the Dursleys table.
Only now there was. Mr Dursley sat brooding quietly, and the boys hardly dared to step out of line. At least until he calmed down some.

Only calm down Mr Vernon did not. What followed was an unusually tense week at number four Privet Drive. The long discussion with her husband left Mrs Dursley in an equally foul mood. Of course the one who to bear the consequences was mainly Harry. Dudley, the favourite son, and a baby angel of Dursley family always got off lightly when Harry was near to take the blame.

Come Wednesday, Harry was grounded two more times, yelled at on four different occasions, and made to weed the garden. Dudley was only yelled at. Once. The blatant unfairness of it all was not wasted on Harry, who grumbled quietly the entire time.

As a result he was in a rather poor mood himself when Dudley cornered him upstairs on the Thursday morning.

“You go and apologise to dad!” he demanded. Dudley was never one to beat around the bush when he wanted something.

“Leave me alone! He is not even here!” said Harry.

“When he returns, obviously!”

“I didn't do anything! It's not my fault he is mad.”

“It's always your fault. I'm can't stand it any more. The sooner you apologise, the sooner he will return to normal and I will be able to watch TV in peace. We are wasting summer here!” Dudley emphasized the last words with an over the top gesture, as if it was the greatest imaginable crime.

For him it probably was. Harry didn't really find it so, and said as much.

“See if I care. You go and apologise. Just make that stupid kicked-puppy trick and he will mellow right down. You know him as well as I do!” Harry added stubbornly.

“You think I didn't try? He send me to my room!” Dudley said forcefully, gesticulating widely.

That gave Harry a pause. It wasn't every day that Dudley didn't get his way. Besides as much as he was loathe to admit it, the fat-ass had a point. Truth be told, the whole thing was driving him crazy too, perhaps even more than his cousin. He had no idea how being triple grounded even work, but he didn't fancy spending the rest of the summer in the house. Especially not with uncle Vernon as he was. Still there was an obvious problem with that.

“What would I even apologise FOR? I did nothing wrong that day.”

“Doesn't matter, just go and apologise.”

“It doesn't even work that way!” Harry was starting to get seriously pissed.

“I don't care. Just go and fix it!”

Okay, Harry had enough. This was just getting ridiculous.

“Leave me alone! Find yourself another sucker,” said Harry and tried to go around Dudley. Most days he wasn't determined enough to try and catch him. This, unfortunately was not most days. Dudley grabbed his arm and shoved him back against the wall, getting an indignant 'HEY!” in reply.

“I'm not done with you! I don't care how you do it, just go an fix it. I'm not getting any more trouble because of you!”

“Now that's just RICH!” Harry almost screamed. “Getting in trouble because of ME?! Butt off, or else!”

“Else what?” Dudley asked looming. At least he probably tried to loom, it looked more like he was squinting stupidly.

Some time ago, that might have even worked. But Harry learned since. So instead of getting intimidated, he raised his elbow and put his whole body behind it. Now Dudley was great deal bigger than Harry, and another deal heavier on top of that. His coordination, on the other had, left much to be desired.

So when Harry's punch connected under his ribs, Dudley stumbled back and almost doubled over. It didn't keep him down for long though. You could say much bad about Dudley, but he sure could take a hit.

What followed was a quick and rather vicious scuffle, like many others the boys shared over the recent years. Harry would try and hit where it hurt, until Dudley gave up, and Dudley in turn tried to grab and put Harry down, so that he could beat him up.

When it happened the first time back after the zoo incident, Harry took Dudley by surprise and got the upper hand. Unfortunately for him, his cousin soon learned that if he could grab Harry and get the fight to the floor, he could easily beat Harry up with his mass and strength advantage.

Harry in turn went to uncle Vernon and asked if he could go and train martial arts. It probably wouldn't have worked, but then Dudley not wanting to be outdone demanded that he could learn too. Of course, most of the time, what Dudley asked, Dudley got, so a few days later Harry tagged along on their first trip to the small 'dojo' few streets away.

Dudley lasted all of two trips before he got bored. Harry went on for another year, before he decided that all of the rules and stuff didn't really help when trying to kick Dudley's fat butt. Still he learned a thing or two, and as a result more often than not Harry could give just as well as he got, if not better.

Of course it was usually moot point when more often than not they would get interrupted before they could even get properly started. And this time was not an exception. Before the first minute passed, aunt Petunia run up the stairs already screaming. When she saw what happened she screamed some more, then fussed over her poor Dudley, then screamed some more, at both of them, but mainly at Harry. Finally she declared they better wait until Vernon returns, that he would get them in line. And Harry knew that he probably would. On the second though, maybe punching Dudley wasn't the best idea...

~•~

Vernon Dursley thought of himself as a tolerant man. Sure he despised idiocy, but that was just reasonable. He may scorn politicians, and he had little good to say about men of faith, but who did. But they were all ordinary idiots, the lot of them. He generally held his tongue when they were in his general vicinity.

But there was one thing that he did not tolerate. It was magic. It was vile, and abnormal, and generally only served to disrupt proper order of things. It was bad news all around, and nothing good came out of it. Take Lily Evans for example. She was such a sweet girl when they were younger, always polite and proper, and he couldn't honestly bring himself to hate her even with all the animosity between her and Petunia. They were sisters after all, and he himself could barely stand Marge most of the time. It was only after she moved out of town, that their relations improved somewhat.

But then the whole magic business got to her, and just look what happened. In but few short years she started going out with that vile James Potter of all people! Actually the less was said about James Potter, the better. One needed to look no further to see what came out of people if they delved in magic. He got poor Lily to marry him, and they just disappeared of the face of Earth. And but a few short years later they got themselves blown up, in some place that didn't even exist on maps.

So the day Petunia discovered Harry Potter on the steps of their house he did the responsible thing and took it upon himself to ensure that the boy would be shielded from any of that freakishness. He carefully burned the letter that was left in Harry's basket, and devised the story about them dying tragically in the car accident. He took the boy under his roof, and treated him like family, and the effects spoke for themselves. The boy was usually polite and even obedient. Oh, he had the stubborn streak the mile wide, and would sometimes talk back, but Vernon considered he did miracles, considering he was the son of that man.

Everything was going well for years. It was starting to go so well in point of fact, that he would have almost forgotten who the boy really was. It was all perfectly fine until that fateful day on Dudley’s seventh birthday, when they took the ill-advised decision to take Harry along to the zoo. He managed to overlook it at the time, but in hindsight he should have realised the moment he saw the boy clutching that damned piece of wood. He should have taken it immediately and chopped to firewood. Instead he somehow let himself forget about it.

Oh he should have seen it coming. Looking back it was then that the boy became violent. It seemed harmless at first to let him go and learn some martial arts. It was only right for the man to know how to defend himself. Even Dudley wanted to try it for himself, even if the place proved substandard and not worth his time in the end. But he saw no reason not to indulge Harry some. He was only regretting it now. It only all became apparent after that blasted email at Monday.

But he did realise his mistakes, and he would not make them again. He would keep the boy on a tighter leash. He would ignore or communication from that place 'they' called a school, and if they dared to contact him again he would share a piece of his mind with them. The boys foot will not set in that place, not while he had anything to say...

A pointed 'ahem' brought Vernon back to reality.

“Hmm? Ah, um... Yes, you are completely right, Dilbert.” he said, while trying to remember what they were talking about again. That's what you got if you let magic get to you. Well, it probably wasn't very important, and it never really hurt to agree with an employee every once in a while.

The young man with a rotund nose and ever crooked tie blinked at him stupidly from behind thick glasses.

“Does that mean that you will actually give me promotion?” he asked finally.

“I'm sure I said nothing of the sort.” Vernon answered without missing a beat. You had to be decisive in those matters. The IT lad was ambitious, and Vernon didn't begrudge him that. If only he worked with the same diligence that he did everything else, maybe he would have granted him that promotion. As it was, “Did you manage to finally finish upgrading the systems? It's crucial that it's done on time.”

“I told you yesterday that I could theoretically speaking get it done next week, if you gave me someone to help with...”

“That's great, I expect it done tomorrow.” he said distantly, not really paying attention. He was far too busy with salvaging anything that could be salvaged from the contract with Wolfram & Hart. The talks started to go suddenly downhill, after he lost his composure on Monday.

He barely noticed Dilbert murmuring something as he left his office. Bright lad that one. He could probably make it far if he learned to be more polite and respectful of deadlines.

The next few hours proved generally uneventful. He spent two hours turning the paperwork into something resembling order, had a short meeting with Alice, where she mainly complained at her co-workers, and an even shorter meeting with Wally, who was still doing his thing. He made a mental note to check what Wally was actually occupied with at the moment. All in all it was a good day.

Vernon sighed with relief, sipping from his coffee. He was finally starting to recover from the ordeal this week has turned into. He glanced at the edge of his computer screen noting the time. Three minutes past three o'clock. Just a short hour, and he would be able to safely leave the business in the capable hands of others.

After a moment of relaxation he turned back to his desktop computer and habitually switched to the email client, just as another pop icon informed him of new messages in his inbox. With a practised motion he opened the email, and then froze.

From: Hogwarts School of... | Reminder – Dear Sir or Madam, We did not yet receive confirmation of attendance from Mr Harry Potter. We would like to kindly remind you...
For a few seconds he sat there blinking, and then his blood began to warm up, and his temper flared. A reminder?! He would give them a reminder!

He hastily opened the reply window, and began to type in earnest. Without much concern for any sort of decorum, he just poured out all of the frustration of last week, making it clear what he thought about the Hogwarts school, where they could send their reminders, and very explicitly stating that the only way Mr Harry Potter was going to appear in Hogwarts, was over his own dead body. By the time he was done, the message resembled nothing more than over-long rant, but Mr Dursley did not hesitate to press the 'send' button. That had certainly helped.

Just as he was reaching for his now-cool cup of coffee, there was a quiet knock on the door, and without his prompt the door cracked open to show the face of his secretary.

“Mr Dursley, I have received the report about...” she begun to speak, but Vernon held up a hand tiredly.

“Thank you, Miss Longueville, I'll take a look at it tomorrow.” he said trying to sound polite. “On that note, cancel all of my appointments today and tomorrow. There is an urgent business I have to take care of.”

“Sir? But the contract negotiations...”

“That will be all, Miss Longueville.” he said more decisively. Honestly, there were some days when it seemed that he was the only person capable of making a decision in this company.

The young woman looked indecisive for a moment, but nodded finally and disappeared behind the door, leaving Vernon alone. He started to gather his things, forcefully shoving them into his briefcase. Writing the message helped him calm down some, but he was still agitated. The nerve of the lot. He took everything quickly and switched the power off on his computer, not caring enough to wait for the operating system to close.

After walking down two hallways, an elevator ride, and dismissing concerns of few more people on his way, he finally got down to the underground parking lot. Soon he was driving his car back home, his thoughts running in circles. He needed to distance himself from everything, maybe quite literally. He was not going to let his family get tainted with that nonsense.

Unknown to him, his elaborate reply was immediately discarded by the receiving server, configured to automatically remove any responses to the account of the automatic mail delivery module.

~•~

Come Friday Harry and Dudley, were both grounded. Again. After a long and quite loud talking down to they were told in decisive tones that they would not fight each other that week, that they were all going to be one big happy family, with no 'weird business' going whatsoever, or Mr Dursley would personally tie them up with a length of rope and throw them in the basement together until they learned to coexist peacefully together, now go, he had enough problems for one day as It was.

That morning, to Harry's raised eyebrow, and Dudley not-so-quiet horror, Mr Dursley took plugged of the rooter and deposited the cable in the safe in his study, citing, that they were all going to take a break from all the modern-day nonsense, and engage in some traditional British pastimes. He deemed answering any of Dudley's whining and Harry's tentative questions beneath his notice.

That afternoon, after another quiet conference with Mrs Dursley, the whole family, Harry included. Were seated comfortably in the massive sofa of number four Privet Drive living room, watching, of all things a game of cricket. Mr Dursley, who has apparently taken a day of, to spent some quality time with his family.

They were told that they would dine in a restaurant that evening, A fine establishment in Guildford, serving local cuisine. The word 'normal' was also mentioned at least two times when describing the place. Apparently they were also going to visit a theatre on Saturday evening. Throughout all this, the two young boys of Dursley household were exchanging weirded out looks. Mrs Dursley apparently decided it was all a fantastic idea and long overdue. If she was perhaps a bit unsure while saying those words, it passed unnoticed by the rest of the family.

~•~

It turned out rather well, all things considered. Harry was actually pretty excited about the outings, and once he learned how to avoid uncle Vernon strange new quirks, he found it even quite enjoyable. It was just scaring him just a tiny little bit. Dudley was keeping his distance from him, he seemed quite worried about everything himself, and was more quiet than usual. He seemed downright unwell.

They have just finished their lunch on Sunday, and to Harry's surprise Dudley's plate was still half-full. If there were sights he never expected to see in his life, this one must have been at the top of that list. Uncle Vernon was quietly sipping his, while aunt Petunia was starting to gather the plates.

“Alright boys, there is something I want to tell you.” uncle Vernon said suddenly, and all eyes turned to him in some surprise.

“I have been thinking this past few days, and it just didn't sit right with me, so this Thursday I had a long chat with an old friend of mine, and he agreed to pull some strings for me. So, Harry, I'm pleased to say, that come September you are going to attend Smeltings, together with Dudley.” he announced simply. He was met with a wall of silence.

Before anything more could be said, there was a piercing knock on the door, and a moment later the sound of a doorbell ringing. No one seemed to notice for a moment, until Mr Dursley placed his cup back on the table and turned to his wife.

“Would you get that, dear?”

Aunt Petunia blinked owlishly, and then started when the doorbell rang again. With hurried steps she turned and went down the hall towards the front door. Mr Dursley meanwhile turned back to the boys.

“I already ordered an uniform for you, you will of course have to look your best for the occasion...” he started to speak once again, but whatever else he meant to say was interrupted by the sound of the door opening, and then a quiet voice, the sort of which would always be heard clearly, over any amount of background noise, and no matter the circumstances.

“Petunia. How delightful to see you again.”

The voice did not seem delighted at all.

Notes

1. So mainly some of Harry's life at the Dursleys. Tried to keep it brief, but there are important differences here. I figured things would be a bit easier when there is no accidental magic, to distance Vernon from the idea that Harry is 'one of them'.

2. Also hints. I couldn't quite keep them out, and pretend to be consistent. I'll be surprised if people don't figure it out.

3. Guess who?
 
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