A/N: This story closely follows the book, so expect to see the same sorts of paragraphs, conversation, etc.

WARNING: none, right now.

DISCLAIMER: All the characters, but the Melvilles, and the Harry Potter world belong to J.K. Rowling.

Chapter Two

The Vanishing Glass

Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their nephew on their front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun peeked up on the same tidy yards across the street, lit up the numbers along the houses and mailboxes. On Wisteria Walk, the number twenty-six was hidden from the sun, while the light crept through the back windows, the same way it had been for the last few years, the same way it did the morning that Harry Potter came to number four on the street beside this one. The street called Privet Drive. In the Melville residence, pictures lined the walls of the children, starting with one, then two.. three, four, and finally a fifth child was added to the mix, just a few years after the Dark Lord had fallen. Smiles were filtered onto the papers, a family hugging or candid, showing grandparents and cousins and aunts and uncles, none of which lived around them, but visited occasionally.

Mr. Melville woke early in the morning as he always did, and woke up his wife as the sound of water poured into the bedroom, his feet pressing on the tile floor, water rushing at his ears as he washed his hair. He would go to work today. Though the kids could sleep during the summer, he still had to work. Mrs. Melville dressed in a t-shirt and skirt. She pulled up some stockings to her knees, then sneakers onto her feet. She had just finished tying them by the time her husband got out of the shower, drying himself off as he looked for clothes to wear. She stood, gave him a kiss on the cheek, then went downstairs to start breakfast.

The smell of pancakes was enough to get at least Clyde up from bed, and Annabel soon followed. Gillian came down a few minutes after the table was set, with a sleepy Jonah on her hip. She handed the four year old off to her mother the instant she got close enough. Unlike her sister Annabel, and her mother, Gillian's motherly trait was suppressed by being easily irritated by annoying noises.. and a four year old was definitely an annoying noise. Lyle was the only one absent from the table throughout breakfast. A particularly hard sleeper, he didn't hear when his older brother got up from the bed and dressed, or when the toddler exited the room. He simply rolled over on the bottom bunk in the first bedroom on the second floor. Clyde had the top bunk, as always, and the toddler had a bed opposite of theirs.

After breakfast, Clyde came back upstairs, grabbing a pillow from his bunk, and thwacking it against the side of his little brother's ginger head. The child whined and pulled his blanket over his eyes, rejecting the light that was leaking in through the windows.

"Oy, get up, will you?" the teenager sighed, tossed his pillow up onto his bed.

"Go 'way," came the grumbled response.

"Mum says to get up, or you have to do the dishes."

That got a response. Lyle shoved his blankets off and rolled out of bed as quickly as he possibly could, snatching a pair of trousers from an open drawer in his dresser and shoving them onto his legs. If one thing could get him out of bed, it was the fear of doing chores. Of course he did do chores when he was told to, but he wasn't even awake for breakfast. That was hardly fair. Amused, Clyde watched from his bunk, flipping through a magazine halfheartedly. He tossed it to the end of his bed, rolled onto his side to look down at the boy as he tried to dress quickly.

"That shirt's dirty."

Lyle gave him a glance, then looked down at the stained shirt, before taking it off, and going for another one.

"That one, too."

The action repeated.

"So's that one."

Now it was just annoying. Lyle scowled, looked down at the shirt, but, finding no stain, decided to wear it anyway, and trudged out the door, grumbling to himself about laundry days and juice stains, which then lead to a tangent about juice that carried on to the living room. Clyde stopped listening by then, and resumed his spot on his bunk, reading the magazine he'd been eying earlier.

Downstairs, Lyle grabbed a pancake and slapped some peanut butter on it, before he rolled it up and took a bite. Mrs. Melville was still trying to get Jonah to eat a full pancake, though the child would not have such a notion. He refused, huffed, crossed his arms, and shouted 'no' upon 'no'. Frustrated, Mrs. Melville sighed, told the child he could go play, and started to clean up the kitchen. Lyle stayed, watching Annabel play in the living room with Jonah. She had a nice time, hiding behind the couch, then jumping out at him, causing him to squeal and flail, then run to try to catch her. It was a usual game that Lyle had no interest in anymore, so eventually, he just looked back to his mum.

"I need to go out and do some shopping. Annabel's staying here and watching Jonah. If you go to a friend's house, could you tell someone this time?" Mrs. Melville glanced back at Lyle.

The child had a habit of going off to friend's houses around the neighborhood and forgetting to tell anyone where he was going. It had more than once started a ruckus in the home, and gotten him grounded thereafter. By now, they'd come to expect it. The child didn't exactly have the best memory or courtesy.. or filter, but that was a different matter entirely. Lyle grunted in acknowledgement, but didn't say anything. Most of his friends were busy today, except for one, one in particular.

Harry Potter started going to his primary school the same time he did, but the two had met before then. Mrs. Dursley was certainly not friends with Mrs. Melville. They acknowledged each other, and often had the same friends, but were not friends themselves. Still, it was hard not to notice the sudden appearance of a small, black-haired boy, with that famed scar upon his forehead. When Mrs. Melville asked about him, Mrs. Dursley had coldly quipped that his no-good mother died in an accident and left her with the child, no doubt to turn out as worthless as that husband of her's. Surprised, Mrs. Melville hadn't pushed the issue, but insisted on playdates between Lyle and Mrs. Dursley's child, Dudley, and insisted, as well, that Harry join them. Reluctantly, the horse-faced woman had agreed.

Lyle had known him since then, and though his father continued to tell the stories, he no longer had as much interest in them as he did when he was younger. Harry Potter was scrawny. His arms were thin, his clothes were large and rotting, and his hair was a mess. But that didn't mean the ginger didn't like him. Quite the opposite. He adored the raven-haired fiend. It was that blasted cousin that he couldn't stand. If there was one thing in the world he hated more than juice stains, it was Dudley Dursley. He was a fat, spoiled, manipulative little cry-baby, and Lyle made it his job to get back at him bullying Harry all the time, by spreading little rumors around the school. Simple things, but enough that, beyond his small gang, he didn't have any sort of friends at school, and even his gang snickered behind his back at the rumors going around, except the ones that involved them, of course.

By the time Lyle was paying attention to his surroundings, his mother had moved to the living room to grab her bag and instruct Annabel like she always did, about numbers to call and things to do in emergencies. You would think by now she would have learned it by heart. She had. The woman simply didn't realize that. Soon, she was gone, and the noise of playing resumed. Lyle went to the door, grabbed his shoes from the closet and slipped them on.

"Goin' out!"

He waited to hear an "okay!" in reply before he exited the home, moving passed the small stone wall of his home, and over to number four, Privet Drive.

The Dursley residence was always very prim and proper, with excellently maintained gardens and a manicured yard. The hedges were just perfect and the house always looked freshly painted, no sign of wear or weather. Inside, as Lyle well knew, was just the same. It was perfect. The floors and the chimney were swept, the shelves were dusted, the dishes were clean, and everything was pristine and crisp and clean and perfect. To be completely, Lyle couldn't stand it. His mum always gushed at how clean they kept the house, which meant more chores for him when he got home, which was never enjoyable. The only thing his mum didn't like about the home, besides the majority of the occupants, were the photos. She had asked once why there weren't pictures of Harry around, but with the clipped answer that the boy didn't enjoy taking pictures, she had thought better of pushing the idea.

If it wasn't legally kidnapping, she would have taken the kid from that home long ago.

Lyle knocked against the proper door with his small knuckles and shifted from foot to foot as he waited the usual, short period before it was opened. It was always about the same.. Five to ten seconds, as they were usually not right at the door, and even if they were, he knew for a fact they generally yelled at Harry to open it. He wasn't so lucky this time.

He deflated just a tiny bit as Mrs. Dursley answered the door instead, and she seemed just as disappointed as he was. Her smile tightened a bit, pursed and unwilling.

"Oh. Hello, Lyle. Where is your mother?"

Lyle grinned lightly. "Shopping.. I was just going to.." he peeked into the home, specifically at the sniffling Dudley and the mound of presents. "Wish Dud's a happy birthday."

That seemed to do the trick. At least, Mrs. Dursley stopped looking like she was sucking on a lemon.

"Oh! Well, then, come inside!"

Thank God. Lyle stepped inside the home and he heard the door shut behind him. He smiled as he approached Dudley Dursley. The mini-whale's face was some mixture of red and blue, like he'd been hiccuping and holding his breath at the same time, difficult, he knew. He had seen the 'fake crying' bit before, and he knew the face after it. It was much the same.

"Happy Birthday, Duds. I don't have a gift yet; I'll get you one soon, though."

The idiot returned the gesture with a 'thanks'. How annoying.. He didn't want to waste money on it, of course. He'd likely just find an old game around the house and regift it. He'd be none the wiser. No, seriously.. the brat was an idiot. Harry, he noted, was also in the room, and he gave him a glance and a grin. Now, Harry, he could stand. But Dudley? Fucking hell. Mr. Dursley was almost worse, though. Just looking at him made Lyle feel like he was going to have a heart attack. He refused to even think of the couple producing a child, much less what they did currently. He nearly shuddered.

While he and Dudley made small talk, Mr. Dursley had gone to speak in low voices with his wife until the phone rang from the kitchen. Mrs. Dursley went to fetch it, and Lyle kept an ear out as she spoke. Mrs. Polkiss. Piers' mum? He didn't know why, but he didn't ask. He glanced at Harry, but he didn't seem to know, either, just sort of kept to the back, away from the chatting children and the tub of lard the poor kid had to call an uncle. Lyle didn't know how he did it.

Not long after, Mrs. Dursley came back into the room.

"That was Mrs. Polkiss. It seems Piers has been running a fever.."

There was a stiff silence as the family waited for the tantrum that was sure to come.. but in the presence of Lyle, Dudley stuffed it inside and gripped his fists.

"But mum,"

"I know, Dudders, b-but.. Look, Lyle's here! Don't you like Lyle? We could take him to the zoo, if it's alright with his mother?"

Oh shit. Lyle blinked a moment when the attention shifted, hesitated. "I.. well, she's.. out, but I told my sister I'd be out, so I'm.. sure it's fine, Mrs. Dursley." Was that the right answer? Bloody, stop staring! And so they did, and before Lyle knew what was really going on, he was in the back of the Dursley's car, sitting in the middle between Harry and Dudley, on the way to the zoo. He suspected the couple would pay for him, since they hadn't asked about it, but he did have five dollars in his pocket. Was that enough? No, probably not. He glanced at Harry, but the two didn't say anything for a while.

As they drove, Mr. Dursley was complaining to Mrs. Dursley about something Lyle wasn't quite paying attention to. He had driven with the Dursleys before, for the occasional carpooling, and had learned long ago to just not pay attention. It was much easier not to get annoyed with the idiots if he didn't pay attention to them, right? That seemed logical, and Lyle did enjoy logic. He hated being in the middle seat, however. With no window to stare out, he just stared straight ahead, which for a taller person would generally mean the windshield, but for Lyle, it meant staring at Mr. Dursley's arm, which wasn't an enjoyable sight at all. Of all the things to stop his boredom, he found that Harry was it. After a long silence, he joined in a conversation with his aunt and uncle by saying something simply offhandedly, and rather odd, which was, as they knew, not something to do.

"I had a dream about a motorcycle," the brunette stated absently. "It was flying."

Mr. Dursley didn't find this nearly as interesting as Lyle, and nearly crashed into the car in front of him. Lyle tensed as the lard of a man turned in his seat, pointing a sausage-shaped finger at Harry, and yelled, his face red: "MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!"

Dudley snickered.

Lyle remained very, very tense.

"I know they don't," answered Harry. "It was only a dream."

After that, the car was more silent than it had been before, besides Dudley's snickers. Lyle was having a hard time recovering. He hated yelling.. loud noises in general, really. They made him tense and stiff and he hated that even more, but when Mr. Dursley did it, it was even worse. The man was so large, it was hard not to think that he would just snap and murder you, likely by sitting on them. As the ride continued, and Lyle began to calm, he glanced at the dejected Harry, and nudged him, trying at a smile.

It seemed hard for him to return it, but Lyle was satisfied by the faint flicker of the boy's lips.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Lyle large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harry what he wanted before they could hurry him away, they bought him a cheap lemon ice pop. Lyle felt guilty, but he had learned a while ago to shove it away around the Dursleys. He nibbled his ice cream and gave Harry a grin, who seemed more than happy for the ice pop, as they watched a gorilla scratch its head. With a glance, the two small boys inaudibly agreed that the oaf looked a lot like Dudley, beyond the color of fur.

So far, the day wasn't too bad. Lyle wasn't the largest fan of zoos, but not for such a righteous reason as some, like that the animals in cages made them sad or something. No, he just generally got a sunburn whenever he went, and he doubted today would be any different. Still, he liked to see Harry enjoy himself for once, and it was better than spending a lazy Saturday back at home, doing nothing but bicker with siblings, or read, or, even worse, play with his little brother. The kid was fine, he guessed, but he couldn't handle him as well as his sister could. He let her deal with him.

They ate in the zoo restaurant, which had some witty little name that Lyle didn't care to remember for more than five seconds, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory didn't have enough ice cream on top, Mr. Dursley bought him another one and Harry was allowed to finish the first, after Lyle had declined. He didn't know how these people ate so much, Harry obviously excluded. He knew he was a 'growing boy,' but he certainly couldn't eat half of the food that they insisted he get. His stomach simply didn't want it, and he had no inclination to force his stomach to enlarge, as Dudley seemed to have accomplished.

After lunch, they went to the reptile house, which Lyle did not want, but went along with. It was cool and dark, and he watched the windows with unease, his shoulders bunched up and tensed. He was fine with the lizards. He liked the lizards, but the snakes were too much. He hated them, quite simply, even behind thick glass that he comforted himself with knowing that they couldn't get through. He shuffled a bit closer Harry, but tried desperately to not look like a terrified, for lack of a better term, girl. Dudley wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. The bastard quickly found the largest snake in the place, which the family just had to pause to look at, because the idiot was so fascinated.

The snake was indeed, very large, and Lyle could see that perfectly fine from his safe distance of ten or so feet, refusing to come any closer to it. The thing could have wrapped its body twice around the car they were just inside of, and crushed it into a trash cube – but at the moment, it seemed like it was sleeping, which Lyle hoped meant that they would move on soon, because he really didn't want to see what it was like awake.

Dudley stood with his short nose pressed against the glass, staring at the coils.

"Make it move," he whined, like some three year old, and Mr. Dursley tapped on the glass. The menace of a snake didn't even budge.

"Do it again," the brat ordered. Mr. Dursley rapped the glass shortly with his knuckles, but the snake still refused to move. Lyle was starting to ease. Just let the thing sleep.

"This is boring," and he shuffled away.

Lyle nearly followed quickly behind, but Harry hadn't moved, and he didn't want to leave him behind, as he knew the family would do, without a notice. He stood stiffly beside a lizard tank, giving the occasional apology as people tried to shuffle to see it, but he didn't move much beyond that point. Why wasn't he moving away? The thing was asleep, wasn't it? So just leave already. But it wasn't asleep, actually. It was moving now, and Lyle felt himself tense even more. It's head was larger than his own. That was not okay. How could that be okay? Why was Harry looking at a thing that big? Sure tigers were big, too, but at least they were fluffy and not poisonous. Snakes made people die slowly. At least tigers had the propriety of making things die quickly.

He couldn't really see what was going on, and he didn't bother watching much. He glanced around, looked and watched the people, and specifically the Dursleys so he wouldn't get left behind with Harry. Dudley had wandered back to the snake area, and shouted, very loudly, for his dad to come look at the snake. He punched Harry away to get closer, and the small brunette fell to the cold concrete. Lyle twitched, but he'd be alright. He hadn't—was that screaming?

He snapped his eyes back.

The glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished. The large beast was uncoiling itself quickly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits. Lyle had half the mind to go with them, but he found himself just crawling quickly onto a bench and pressing himself to the glass as he watched the snake slither swiftly passed Harry, then out. Lyle was paler than he usually was, which was certainly saying something, and he shook, but the odder thing, to him.. was that the thing didn't attack anyone.

The keeper of the reptile house was in some shape of shock.

"But the glass," he kept repeating, "where did the glass go?"

The zoo director himself made Mrs. Dursley a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Dudley could only stutter words that made no sense. Lyle was just quiet, glancing occasionally at Harry, the last one he'd seen around the snake in the first place.. the one interacting with it. It was weird, wasn't it? Even for a wizard. The snake hadn't attacked anyone around Lyle, as far as he knew, and he was pretty sure he knew that rather well, though it did snap at the occasional heel, almost like a sort of amusement. Back in Mr. Dursley's car, Dudley was convinced it had nearly taken off his leg, which Lyle didn't think was true. Snakes didn't generally go after buffalo, did they?

The Dursleys dropped him off at home. His mother was there when he pushed open the door, and he took off his shoes at the entrance.

"Where have you been?" The question was terse. She'd probably been at the empty number four after coming home to find him absent once again. But at least he had told someone he'd be out this time, right? Which meant no extra chores. At least, he hoped so.

"The zoo, with the Dursleys. It was Dudley's birthday," he answered lightly.

She blinked, then frowned.

"And Harry?"

"He came with us."

Dinner was going to be ready soon, as well as he could smell it. It smelled like chicken.. He was still, however, trying to shake the feeling of fear that damned snake had instilled into him, and he plopped on to the couch, stiffly.

"That's nice."

She went back to the kitchen and Lyle remained quiet. Clyde set the table for dinner, with minimal help from Gillian. Lyle wasn't much help at all, and just went around putting the ice in cups for tea or water, whichever they wanted, but he didn't get the liquids themselves. There was no way he was taking orders, and his mum always liked to set pitchers of the two choices out onto the table, anyway, just so they could get refills, too. It was simpler.

During the course of dinner, he listened to his siblings talk about their days. His mum asked the older three about how their homework was going, and they answered, and they talked about things in school, and things they were excited about, and plans they had with friends over the summer. Lyle was quiet until asked about his day, to which he paused a few moments, glass of tea in his hand. He considered all the things he could have said about the day, the good things and the bad. The yelling Mr. Dursley, the odd snake, the food, the whining, or his own fear. He decided against those.

"Harry set a boa loose in the Reptile House and nearly made Dudley piss his pants."

That topped them all.