Harry drained his goblet and extended it languidly. No less than three witches dressed in frilly maid outfits hurried to refill it, and the brunette who was the first to grab the pitcher gave the others a triumphant look.
"Here you go, Harry," she chirped, pouring him more pumpkin juice.
"Call me Master, Reina," he said, eyes fixed on her ample cleavage. He'd really struck gold with this design, if he could say so himself.
"I'm Romilda," she whined. "I told you three times already."
"Knew it started with an 'R'." Ignoring her pout, he reclined on the bench until the back of his head touched the chest of a black-robed witch who was massaging his shoulders. "Ah, that's the spot, Tonks."
Her grip tightened painfully, and she hissed, "Don't use my name, you'll blow my cover."
"Then come up with a cuter alias. 'Helga' makes you sound like a granny."
"I hate you so, so much," the Hufflepuff alumni growled.
"Hate me all you want, as long as you keep those hands moving." It was the latest of their bets she was delivering on; Tonks had a competitive streak a mile wide, and it was all too easy to draw her into games of anything from Gobstones to broom racing.
Her motions resumed, and he sighed blithely, casting his gaze around the house table. Most Ravenclaws didn't bat an eye at his antics, as Harry Potter being waited on hand and foot by his fan club was nothing out of the ordinary these days, even if the maid costumes were a new addition.
Tony met his gaze and toasted him with his goblet. Su watched him like a hawk from a few seats away; Harry guessed she was trying to guilt trip him for exploiting his fame, but he couldn't be certain as she never said a word to that effect. On the opposite side of the table was Padma, not sparing him a glance as she demolished the lamb chops on her plate.
He looked away slowly, then jerked his head back and caught her peeking at him. She lowered her gaze, her cheeks flushing.
He smirked. "Something on your mind, Padma?"
Abandoning her pretense of nonchalance, she lifted her head and glowered. "I've been forced to endure this spectacle every day for the past few months, and just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, you do this! Have you no shame?" Her words seemed directed as much at Harry as at the witches surrounding him.
"You're just jealous we're closer to Harry than you are," said the brunette at his side.
He nodded. "What Reina said."
The maid huffed. "For Merlin's sake, my name's not—oh, why do I even bother." She rose from the bench and stomped out of the Great Hall.
Harry trailed her with his eyes glumly, but another maid quickly sidled up to him and whispered into his ear, "Forget her, I can be Reina or whoever you want."
Grinning, he hugged her around the waist and pulled her onto his lap. "I like you."
Padma's fork clattered on her plate. "I know you're trying to rile me up, but show some decorum at the dinner table, at least."
"Give the guy a break," Tony said. "It's the least he deserves for offing You-Know-Who."
"And he's been doing nothing but leching around since then!"
"Look, there's no need to be jealous," Harry said, resting his chin on the giggling maid's shoulder. "If you want to join in, all you have to do is ask. What's-her-name's uniform should be about your size."
"I'm not jealous, I'm concerned about you. We're months away from graduation, and you need to start thinking about your future." Padma pointed a table knife in his direction. "And if you think you can get me into that raunchy outfit, you've got another thing coming!"
He shrugged. "Oh well, there's no shortage of volunteers."
"I call dibs," Su said.
Padma rounded on her. "You can't seriously be thinking about wearing that!"
She pouted. "It looks fun."
Padma shook her head, looking like the wind was taken out of her sails. "You know what? I don't even care anymore."
Peace and quiet returned to the table as Harry was fed morsels of treacle tart by hand, which made his favorite dessert twice as delicious. Feeling generous, he persuaded the second maid, who was sulking at the lack of attention, to tend to Tony. Tired of kneading his shoulders, Tonks perched on the bench next to him and sighed.
The idyll was interrupted by a clearing of a throat, and Harry turned to find McGonagall standing behind him, her lips pursed.
"What is the meaning of this, Mr. Potter?"
"Merely enjoying another delectable dinner at your fine institution, headmistress," he said.
Her nostrils flared. "Don't you get cheeky with me, young man. I have told you time and time again, I expect all of my students to conduct themselves with decorum, and you are no exception."
"That's what I've been saying," Padma muttered, then flinched under the headmistress's glare.
"The same goes for you, young ladies," McGonagall continued, staring down at the pair of maids. "You know full well that students are to wear their uniforms outside the common rooms."
The girl in Harry's lap squirmed, and he tightened his grip around her waist. "But, professor, my Head of House gave us permission," he said innocently.
"Filius?" she exclaimed, turning towards the head table.
The diminutive professor glanced their way and waved to Harry, who grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. After he'd gifted Flitwick the remains of the Ravenclaw's Diadem, there was nothing the professor wasn't willing to do for him.
"I see," McGonagall said crisply. "I am going to have words with Professor Flitwick, and I better not find either of you girls in these obscene garbs when I return, or it will be a month's detention for each of you." She strode towards the head table, where Flitwick was suddenly in a hurry to polish off his dessert.
Looking properly chastised, the maids scampered off as Tonks laughed openly.
"Way to ruin my fun, you old biddy," Harry grumbled, keeping his voice low. He knew from experience that despite her advanced years, McGonagall's hearing remained sharp as a cat's.
After a hearty last breakfast, Harry scurried out of the Great Hall and slipped into an alcove to don his invisibility cloak. While he hadn't grown tired of the looks of awe and adulation yet, he wasn't in the mood for it today. The awarding of the house cup, the graduation ceremony, and the wild party in the Ravenclaw common room were all behind him; the Hogwarts Express would shortly leave from Hogsmeade station, and that would be the last time he'd get to ride it. It was a wistful thought; a lot had happened since that train first brought him into the world of magic, not all of it good, but he wouldn't have traded the experience for anything.
Comfortable in his invisibility, he walked at a leisurely pace, taking in the sights and sounds of the school, yet he arrived at his destination all too soon. He smiled at the sight of Barnabas the Barmy getting clobbered by trolls in tutus, before stepping to the opposite wall and pacing back and forth thrice.
He found himself in the cozy, lavender-painted bedroom he'd seen in September last year. Hogwarts was sitting on the bed, her customary dark robes contrasting with the white bedspread.
"Hi." He took a few steps forward, then backpedaled sheepishly to remove his shoes.
"Hello, Harry," she greeted him. "You're leaving, aren't you?"
"In half an hour or so," he said, straightening up. "Why so gloomy, H? Don't tell me you're thinking of going back to sleep now that we're graduating."
"Why would I do that? Despite everything, I've enjoyed my time in this form." She raised her head and met his gaze. "I never said this, but... thank you for awakening me, Harry."
"You're welcome," he said, taken aback by her serious demeanor. "Why are you so upset, then?"
Hogwarts tugged her hat down until the brim hid her eyes. "Because I'll miss you, stupid. You and your insolent band of friends."
Harry found himself at a loss for words. His first impulse had been to tease her, but if he was being honest with himself, he was going to miss her too.
The silence stretched on until Hogwarts clenched her fists and got up. Her socked feet pattered softly against the floor as she charged towards him and wrapped him in a hug.
"Will you come visit me?" she asked in a muffled voice.
"Sure thing." With her so close, he couldn't help but notice that the tip of her pointy hat now went past his forehead. "Hey, did you grow a little?"
Hogwarts withdrew from the hug and folded her arms over her chest. "W-what are you saying?"
He raised his eyebrows. "You're taller."
"Oh... Of course." She flapped her sleeves, which were now only a couple of inches too long. "So this body does that too."
He smirked. "What did you think I meant?"
She averted her eyes. "Never mind that now! Don't you have a train to catch?"
"Right you are." Harry slipped into his shoes again and gave her a wave. "Goodbye, then."
She caught up to him as he was opening the door. Gripping his arm with both hands, she stood on her tiptoes and pecked him on the cheek. "Bye, Harry," she whispered, then shoved him outside.
Harry trailed the unfortunately-monikered Head Unspeakable down to the Department of Mysteries and through a familiar dimly-lit corridor. Once they reached the circular hub, Louse closed the door behind them and brandished his wand, causing the centermost part of the floor to sink down with a rumble and turn into a spiral staircase.
They stepped onto the stairs, which started moving much like those leading to the headmistress's office at Hogwarts, and Harry grasped the handrails for balance. He was carried downwards until emerging onto a brick platform which appeared to be floating in a void of blackness.
Freezing in his tracks, he craned his neck to look around. There was no ceiling, no walls, and the reddish floor only extended for perhaps thirty feet in every direction, illuminated by lanterns which hung on either side of the passage they just exited—a sharp rectangular doorway carved out of the darkness.
Louse plucked one lantern from its hook and strode towards the end of the platform, pausing so close to the void it make Harry anxious just looking at him. Murmuring under his breath, he walked along the edge until exclaiming, "Aha!" and stepping into the darkness. Harry bit back a scream when brick pavement coalesced from the void to meet his foot.
Louse strode forward, holding the lantern before him. "Do not tarry, Mr. Potter. The path won't last long."
Harry hastened to follow, making an excessively long step over the growing gap between the platform and the floating roadway. The darkness below was impenetrable even to his enchanted spectacles.
"What's down there?" he asked.
"Nothing," Louse said as he made a ninety-degree turn. "An Unspeakable tasked with creating an expanded space for department's use tapped into energies beyond his own, and so it continues to grow centuries past his death."
Gulping, Harry scooted closer until he was almost stepping on Louse's heels. The path was winding and narrow, and the silent emptiness around them gave him the shivers. It felt like they'd been walking for a long time, but when he glanced over his shoulder, he was still able to see the floating brickwork island that connected this eerie place to the outside world.
Eventually, the lantern in the Unspeakable's wizened hand illuminated another platform, identical to the one they had come from, save for a span of brick wall standing in the middle. Harry breathed easier when they stepped off the precarious pathway, and watched Louse tap the bricks in a convoluted pattern until the wall split open, pouring out sharp light.
"Welcome to the Vault," Louse said with a small bow, and stepped through the passage.
Harry followed suit, blinking as he regarded the brightly-lit hall filled with display cases as far as the eye could see. Louse hung his lantern next to another just like it, then set off along the white plaster wall. Harry tagged along, eyeing the items inside the glass cases. There was a black tome oozing smoke which made him nauseous to look at; an emerald tablet densely covered in tiny script; a crimson gem which looked like an eyeball and turned to ogle him as he passed by...
"Best not gaze into Herpo's Eye too long," a reedy voice said next to his ear, and Harry realized with a start that he hadn't moved for quite some time. "It's been known to cause temporary catatonia."
"Then throw a damn blanket over it!" he blurted out as he tore his gaze away. "Sorry—it just seems irresponsible, leaving such a thing out in the open."
"On the contrary, Mr. Potter, I find that it helps keep our employees on their toes."
Harry made a mental note to dissuade Su from seeking employment in the department. "Riiight."
Curbing his curiosity, he kept his eyes fixed forward as he walked past the endless rows of undoubtedly wondrous objects. Just when he felt he could no longer resist taking a peek, Louse paused before an unremarkable patch of wall, which became a doorway at another gesture from his wand.
"This place houses our most intriguing artifacts," he said, stepping inside. "Every time I come here, I'm tempted to resign from my position so I could spend more time researching them."
While painted in the same clinical white, the room was significantly smaller, and had round blast doors situated along its walls. One door was ajar, revealing it to be a couple of feet thick and made of solid steel; Harry gaped at the minuscule runes that flecked its gleaming surface until Louse ushered him through. Within the vault, there was a stone dais, upon which was elevated a mundane-looking brick well. Next to it another Unspeakable stood rigidly, hands clasped behind his back.
"Took you long enough," the stranger said. He clasped the edge of his obfuscating cowl and hesitated for a second before lowering it, revealing a pale face with a hooked nose, and a head of close-cropped black hair.
It took Harry a moment to recognize him, as the man looked a decade younger without his perpetual scowl and greasy mane. "Holy fuckballs! Aren't you on the run, Snape?"
"As far as the public is concerned, yes," Louse cut in. "In truth, Mr. Snape has been leading our horcrux hunting group. His expertise on Dark magic, as well as the intelligence he gleaned while in You-Know-Who's service, have proved invaluable."
Showing no reaction to the praise, Snape approached Harry and stuck his hand out. "Potter. I didn't have the chance to tell you this, but... well done. I had my doubts, but Dumbledore turned out to be right as usual."
He shook the proffered hand, rather disconcerted at Snape's civility. "Er, thanks."
Snape nodded curtly. "Perhaps we should get to business." His eyes flicked to the lapels of Harry's robes. "Which Potter here has apparently decided to announce to the entire Ministry."
Harry grinned and fingered the visitor's badge which read 'Prisoner Transfer'. "It's not like anyone understood that."
"And we could always Obliviate them if they did," Louse added brightly.
"I wish you took operational security more seriously, chief," Snape said with a pained expression. He covered his face with a palm and muttered, "Why do all my employers turn out to be mad?"
Harry snorted, shooting Snape a surprised look. "So, how is this supposed to work?"
"Mr. Potter, I present to you the Time Well," Louse said with a sweeping gesture. "Simply drop You-Know-Who inside, and he will be trapped in a permanent stasis."
Harry glanced at the structure skeptically. "This shoddy thing, huh."
"It was originally invented by a researcher who wanted to keep his produce fresh," Louse explained. "From our tests, the time dilation factor at the bottom approaches a million."
"You lot are the experts," Harry said with a resigned sigh. Walking up to the well, he peeked over the edge; the inner walls were visible to a point, but the middle was obscured in darkness. He stuck his hand inside, feeling a slight pull, and reached into his malletspace. "Okay, here goes."
"—Potteeeer..." Voldemort screamed as he plummeted, his voice gradually lowering until it faded beyond the edge of hearing.
Harry grimaced at the whiff of burning flesh and took a step back. Snape's face was pale, but he stared at Voldemort's final prison with grim satisfaction. Meanwhile, Louse levitated a heavy wooden lid over the well and fastened it with red tape, then glued a bright sticker on its side which said 'Specimen #A26: Dark Lord Voldemort'.
"That's taken care of," he declared, rubbing his hands. "Anyone fancy a bite in the canteen? I'm suddenly in the mood for bacon."
The three of them popped up in a secluded spot inside that mess of straggly brambles the residents of Little Whinging called a park, and Harry took a moment to pat himself down. He'd only acquired his Apparition license weeks ago, and couldn't help checking for missing body parts whenever he used that mode of transportation. In his defense, Sirius was doing the same despite a decade of experience.
"Are you two quite finished?" Tonks asked.
"Give me a second," Harry said, lowering his hand to confirm his most important bits were intact.
Tonks rolled her eyes and began extricating herself from the jumble of overgrown shrubs. Satisfied with the results of their inspection, the men followed suit; Harry looked around to get his bearings, then led his companions down Magnolia Road.
"Cor, I don't envy you, champ," Tonks said, craning her neck. "This place is the definition of a suburban hellhole. How do you even know which house is yours when they all look the same?"
"They're called house numbers," Harry said, waving jauntily to an old woman who'd been observing their party through a window. Her scowling face was hidden behind hastily-drawn curtains. "Couldn't you have picked something else to wear?"
Tonks considered her studded leather jacket and ripped jeans. "All my Muggle friends dress like this."
"Never mind," he said with a sigh. It wasn't like Sirius's T-shirt proclaiming him to be 'Hung like a Hippogriff' was any better.
They passed Magnolia Crescent and its rows of identical houses, and entered Privet Drive, which looked much the same despite the locals adopting a haughty attitude about their neighborhood being slightly newer. Harry walked up to the entrance of number four and raised his hand to knock, then chuckled and went for the doorbell. After years spent in the wizarding world, some habits were hard to shake.
Aunt Petunia opened the door, her eyes widening at the arrivals. "Come in, come in," she said, making it sound more like an order than a welcome.
They trooped inside, where Sirius greeted Harry's aunt with a smile. "Looking great as always, Tuney. How's life treating you?"
"Mr. Black," she said sourly, then glanced towards the kitchen. "Vernon, Harry's back!"
"I wish you'd start calling me Sirius already. All those formalities make me feel old."
"And I wish you would act your age, Mr. Black, but I suppose neither of us is getting what we want today."
Sirius guffawed. "That sharp tongue reminds me of the dressing-downs Lily used to give me."
"I am sure you deserved every single one," Petunia said. She turned away from Sirius to give Tonks a once-over, then sniffed. "And who might you be?"
Harry waved to his uncle, who was still hauling his considerable weight into the foyer. "Hiya, Uncle Vernon. This is Tonks—she was my bodyguard for the past year, and she's real good. I got our Minister to assign her to watch over you for a while."
Vernon looked her over dubiously. "Whatever for? I thought you took care of that freak bastard last year."
"That I did, but... this might be a long discussion." Harry shot Petunia a beseeching look.
Pursing her lips, she nodded and ushered them into the living room, where Sirius immediately sprawled on the couch, responding to the Dursleys' dirty looks with a cheeky grin. Harry waited until everyone was seated before speaking.
"You recall what I said about the protections expiring on my birthday last year, of course."
His aunt and uncle said nothing, but their faces darkened; it seemed they still hadn't come to terms with their house essentially being magical for the sixteen years Harry had lived there.
A little anxiously, he continued, "Back then, I told you that you were in danger, that you needed someone to guard you—"
"I said we'd be fine, and we were," Vernon cut in. "None of your kind bothered us while you were at school. Ha! Would've liked to see them try—I'd have tossed them out on their ears."
Sirius snorted, and Vernon's face became an interesting shade of puce.
Harry winced. "Yeah, about that... Please don't be mad, but I had some of Dumbledore's associates—you knew him, Aunt Petunia—looking out for you. With the wards gone, I couldn't leave you unprotected. Nothing bad happened so far, mind you, but they did have to Obliviate some reporters."
"Damn leeches," Sirius said. "You don't want someone like Rita Skeeter on your tail, trust me on that."
Vernon's mustache quivered and he looked like he had something to say, but Petunia was the first to speak.
"These associates of Dumbledore's, did they perchance loiter around our backyard?" she asked.
Harry shrugged, nonplussed. "They might have."
Petunia rounded on Vernon. "I told you it weren't the neighborhood cats peeing on my roses!"
Harry mostly succeeded in holding a straight face as both Sirius and Tonks snickered. "Ah, sorry, Dung's must've gotten bladdered and forgotten his manners... what little he has, anyway. Now I know why my invisibility cloak smelled funny when I got it back."
Petunia drew herself up. "Well, this has to stop. Vagrants skulking around our home, befouling my garden—spying through the windows, most likely, the mere thought makes me queasy—"
"Wouldn't put that past Dung," Tonks muttered.
Harry shot her a glare. He'd been reluctant to trust Mundungus with the task of guarding his family, but beggars couldn't be choosers; with no one stepping up to lead the Order of the Phoenix, the organization was unraveling, and his sway over it was limited.
"Absolutely right, Aunt Petunia," he said, bobbing his head. "That's why I got Tonks here to take up the job—just for a couple more months, until we're sure you're safe. She's a part of our police force, and I can vouch for her being a consummate professional."
Vernon scoffed. "Do all your police officers dress like hoodlums?"
"Only when undercover," Tonks said without a hint of offense. "I could wear my Auror robes, if you prefer."
"I... I think we should accept the offer, Vernon," Petunia said, wringing her hands. "I don't want paparazzis hounding our family."
"Pet, you can't be serious! Look at her—her hair's purple, for God's sake!"
Nodding, Petunia turned to address Tonks. "We don't want any busybodies snooping around, of course, but you would have to chase them off without making a scene. We're a respectable family and don't want to be involved in anything... abnormal."
Tonks smiled. "After all those fetishy costumes your nephew made me wear back at Hogwarts, some normalcy is exactly what I need."
Harry sighed blissfully. "Good times. Reckon the dark elf was my favorite—wish you'd told me you could do the pointy ears earlier." Recalling where he was, he gulped and added, "Um, just kidding. Silly inside joke."
Petunia's mouth formed an 'O', before she shook her head, opting to ignore that exchange. "If you will be seen frequenting our home, you should dress less provocatively. I don't want the neighbors spreading unsavory rumors about us."
"Crikey, Harry wasn't joking about you being uptight," Tonks muttered. "No worries, Mrs. Dursley, I'm very good at blending in. How about we pretend I'm your long-lost cousin or some such?" At her words, her heart-shaped face became more angular, morphing into a passable imitation of Petunia's.
The original made a strangled noise, goggling at her doppelganger with a horrified expression. Tonks slowly transformed back.
"Sorry, that must've been a shocker," she said contritely. "Haven't been among Muggles for a while, so I forgot myself. Don't worry, I'll stay out of your hair—reckon I'll disguise myself and patrol around your house for the time being."
The Dursleys exchanged alarmed glances.
"N-nonsense," Petunia squeaked. "You can stay indoors... as much as possible, in fact. The least we can do to thank you for guarding us is to give you a roof over your head. Isn't that right, Vernon?"
The man frowned but nodded. "Only until we're certain none of their kind is snooping around, right?"
Harry exhaled, feeling as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. All in all, the conversation had gone a whole lot better than he'd expected. "Great! I'll go pack my stuff." He leaned in to whisper to Tonks, "No morphing while I'm gone."
He trudged upstairs where he found his bedroom exactly like he'd left it, although it felt cramped after spending a year in a spacious castle. There wasn't a speck of dust anywhere, indicating that Petunia kept it to the same meticulous standards of cleanliness as the rest of the house.
He regarded the bookshelves, the bed that was now slightly too short for him, and the closet that used to house his treasures. He might not have felt the same attachment to this place as he did to Hogwarts, but it still held years' worth of memories. The books he'd read, fantasizing about magic before he knew it was real. The long hours spent on dull homework assignments, his aunt dropping in every few minutes to make sure he wasn't slacking off. The dirty magazine he'd 'borrowed' from Dudley and studied in detail with a flashlight under his blanket.
Harry dragged his bed a few inches to the side and pried loose a floorboard. Underneath a chipped knockoff figurine and a handful of marbles lay the periodical he'd just been thinking about. Chuckling, he blew the dust off the cover and leafed through. He was thankful the others had stayed downstairs; it wouldn't do to be seen getting nostalgic over a girly mag.
It didn't take Harry long to gather up his scanty possessions and take them into his malletspace. After getting rid of Voldemort, it felt good to have full use of his power again, and for several minutes he amused himself by throwing things into the air and vanishing them with a poke of his finger as they fell. When he'd packed everything, he left the room to hear his godfather's voice carry up from downstairs.
"...'Then what happened?' says the frantic guy. 'Damned if I know,' says the legless owl. 'I fell of my perch.'" There was a brief silence. "Haha, get it? It's 'cause he got a stif—"
"That's quite enough of that, Mr. Black."
"Not even a smile? Blimey, tough crowd."
Harry descended the stairs to find the elder Dursleys glaring at an unconcerned Sirius, four cups of tea sitting abandoned on the coffee table between them. He surmised his godfather had cracked a joke or two to lighten the mood, but seeing how Sirius's sense of humor had stalled in his teenage years, the outcome was predictable.
Dudley was also present, having returned from whatever he did on Saturday afternoons now that he'd outgrown bullying kids in the nearby playground. Unlike his parents, he looked rather cheerful as he showed Tonks his game console, only giving Harry a distracted nod before resuming his explanation. Dudley's biceps flexed as he talked animatedly, but Tonks seemed more interested in the video game displayed on the telly.
"I'm done," Harry announced to the room. "Don't think we'll be staying for dinner—got places to go, things to do, you know how it is."
"Take care, champ." Controller in hand, Tonks waved at him from where she was sitting cross-legged on the carpet. Harry had a hunch she'd quickly get used to her role as a live-in bodyguard, and she probably didn't mind the triple pay he'd negotiated for her either.
Relief practically radiated off the elder Dursleys at his words. Petunia shot to her feet and showed the two wizards to the door too brusquely for it to be a polite gesture, but her expression softened as her eyes lingered on her nephew. Spreading her arms, she hugged him with surprising strength. Harry was startled to see the way her mousy hair was greying at the roots.
"Look at you, all grown up," she said, stepping back. "Lily would be so proud."
Vernon shook his hand. "Take care of yourself, son."
"I will, don't worry. I've got Sirius looking after me too."
Petunia rounded on the man in question. "You keep my nephew safe and provided for, you hear? He might be an adult by your standards, but not by ours. That means no drinking or smoking! I know how teenage boys are." She glanced meaningfully at Dudley, who'd trotted up to say his goodbyes, and the boy grinned sheepishly.
Sirius gave her a mock salute. "Your wish is my command, Tuney."
She sighed and turned back to Harry. "Come visit us sometime. Dudley will have a summer party in July—you'll invite your cousin, won't you, Dudders?"
"Yes, Mum," Dudley said, rolling his eyes. He squeezed Harry's hand in a vise-like grip and whispered, "Thanks for the hot bodyguard, cuz."
"Careful, she packs a mean punch," Harry said, chuckling. He stepped over the threshold and regarded his childhood home and his foster family. "If you need any, y'know, special help—anything at all—just call me, alright?"
Petunia sniffed. "We'll manage without. We always have."
A/N: Thanks for reading. Let me know the good and the bad.
There will be a sequel taking place several years after Harry's graduation and featuring his episodic (mis)adventures, but no promises when it'll be ready. Until then.