IAmJustAnotherGuy, Nothing was really added to already established scene in the game, you just swapped characters, but they are doing exactly same thing



Here's my drabble on Private Detective Potter:

Contrary to what Harry thought during his years at Hogwarts, his money only lasted till graduation. With careful planning with Dumbledore, they defeated Voldemort; not wanting fame Dumbledore took the credit.

Then came the NEWTs exams, as always he scored Outstanding in DADA and got Exceeds Expectations in Charms and Transfiguration, and Acceptable in Potions and Hebology. Due to strict requirements for Auror entance, he was disqualified. Other people offered him work, but Harry always thought it was either out of charity or his fame. So quickly brushing up his law knowledge, he setup a Private Investigations. Which led him sitting in a rundown office at the end of Knockturn Alley, waiting for his client.

A bell rang and a man with a monocle emerged from the stairs. Harry stood and welcomed the client.
"Hello Mr.Potter, my name is Lord Denvard, I'll get right to the point. I believe my wife is cheating on me and I need proof of this happening?"
"You want me to spy on your wife, possibly take a picture of her?"
"That is correct, if it's too troublesome for you, I can try searching for someone else"
"Well, I don't exactly have a camera"
"Of course I'm willing to pay 500 Galleons upfront, and 1000 Galleons thereafter. I'm sure you will be able to buy a good camera with those 500 I offered"
Harry in need of monetary possession, agreed to the job. He hated photographers and papparazi, but as fate would have it he became one of them.


Someone can continue if they want

 

The clock on the wall chimed drearily; after all, it was in dire need of a clean, and though the single occupant of the dim office had all the time in the world and a magic wand that could take care of that for him almost instantaneously, he glared at the offensive object instead.

"That was pitiful," he muttered.

"Oh, that's rich! You could clean me, you know," the clock hissed, obviously having given it some thought, "but you can't be bothered to clean yourself up either--"

"Don't start. You know what day it is."

As the clock sniped, "Not that again", a calendar on the desk in front of him sing-songed, "January 14th!"

"Thank you, Cally," Harry mumbled, wishing for the umpteenth time he'd stop charming things when he was drunk. Work (or the lack of it) tended to grate on his nerves on a good day, driving him to drink, and today was most assuredly a bad one. "As always, I appreciate the reminder."

"Thank you, sir!" the calendar said cheerily. She couldn't properly fathom her middle-aged owner's penchant for sarcasm, but her memory was second to no calendar he'd ever seen and he only had to recharm her once a year so the dates were right. "I hope you have a better day than you did last year!"

He made a noise that was halfway between a laugh and a mournful groan. Today was the anniversary of the day he had angrily balled up yet another request for his dark wizard-destroying services, hand-delivered a stack of divorce papers to his ex-wife, and otherwise ruined future Weasley family reunions. Subsequently, he had wasted what little finances his father left him on a building fifteen meters from the entrance to Knockturn Alley where he planned to revolutionize the way the wizarding world solved its mysteries. Harry figured dodgy folk were more likely to look for a private investigator than an auror, and the wizarding world housed nearly all of its shady figures in the most poverty-stricken, dark wizard-riddled sector of town.

It only made sense to be as close to his market as possible. Of course, he had been wrong. Now, two decades removed from the day he changed his life on a whim, every glimpse in the mirror told him how wrong he was.

The speckled-gray hair on either side of his head was as much a sign of experience as weakness. What was once a bed of raven-hair that even looked wind-swept with Sleak-Eazy's in it had morphed into close-cropped black and silver that presented his lightning-bolt scar as the star attraction. The sign out front, emblazoned with the words 'Detective for Hire' did not draw in customers nearly as well as a simple jaunt out in Diagon Alley.

Unfortunately, the public adored him for his previous exploits, only drawing well-meaning autograph-seekers who, more likely than not, wanted to sell his signed photo for a scant few galleons, and never enough to pay for his services.

The irony of that was not lost on Harry J. Potter, 'Private' Investigator.

The shot of whiskey left in the opaque glass on his desk sang to him, though the words sounded more like a gurgle even after he had consumed the vast majority of the bottle beside it. The paperwork from his last job was still in a pile next to the far wall, beside a suit of armour enchanted to welcome customers (that usually just sat against the wall). It was fortunate that the building was paid for, and wizarding property tax was non-existent, because the Potter vaults were only marginally more active than Harry's business.

A bell rang, but he ignored it. He was lost in conversation with his mostly-empty glass when the cuckoo clock interrupted them.

"You have a visitor," she sniffed. Harry crossed the room to look out of the lone window, and sure enough, there was someone standing underneath a vibrantly red umbrella. What's more, they were obviously reading the sign outside his door. "I wonder if they know any cleaning spells."

"I wonder if they have any money," Harry said, casting an eye about the place to determine how dreadful it looked. A brief sniff convinced him tidying up was necessary, as any customer who took a breath in the place would likely run back out the way they came. He furiously straightened the place up, even going as far as to coat the clock with a spray of vanishing goo that he kept in a cabinet by his desk. She shrieked in rage up until the moment she realized her clockface was consipicuously free of dust.

Her silence was enough gratitude, but she managed a thank you just as he opened the door.

 

Cheap humor:

At dinner, Snape takes note of a Slytherin girl carrying on hysterical, being consoled by her roommate. Snape saunters over and demands to know why she's behaving so poorly. The girl stands, casts Finite to reveal that she's pregant... very pregnant. Her roommate stands with her, cancelling her own illusion, bowing her head and confessing that she's pregnant, too, just not as far along. A Ravenclaw stands and reveals the same thing, followed by three Hufflepuffs.

Finally, Romilda Vane stands up. He says she's not sorry but she may want to leave this term and retry her 5th year when her hormones aren't so wild.
Snape demands to know who the father is. Just then Harry enters the Great Hall. All the girls point at him.

"Potter! You've gotten all these girls pregnant? What do you have to say for yourself?"

"It doesn't matter how much you beg, male pregnancy is a myth."

 

McGonagall blanches. Looking down at her stomach, she casts a Finite to reveal that, indeed, she is pregnant, though not nearly as far along as the others. Harry, fearing the repercussions of so many violent, hormonal women coming to terms with their pregnancies at once, flees from the hall.

Standing outside the door, however, a diabolical grin crosses his melting features. The face of one Ron Weasley appears, over the top of Harry Potter's robes. "Revenge is sweet."

He returns to the common room to inspect his newborn son, held carefully in Hermione's arms. The raven-haired tyke seems too tuckered out to open his eyelids, but when he does, the brown eyes behind are the most beautiful Ron has ever seen.

It's too bad his best friend would be too busy running for his life to see them.

 

Don, what do you have against Ron that you write him getting fucked over by Hermione and Harry so often lately? And I get this is just drabble vomit, as the title says, but still... eww, raising a bastard child.

 

Odran: There had to be a story where Ron goes off on a sex spree Polyjuiced as Harry as a result of Hermione's baby-maker being compromised already. There's an omake on the way where dark!Harry

Spoiler

Fucks Hermione Polyjuiced as Ron

as a prequel, just for the lulz

 

Everything because Anything


I have had to endure an entire year of inhabiting the body of an unpleasant, pug-faced, prejudiced, spoiled little girl.

I have had to deal with the likes of Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and Snape on a daily basis. I had to act as they expected me to, when they watched. But when they did not, I worked against them.

It was a tiresome year, and I was happy that it was over.

Because it was an entire year of planning, scheming and backstabbing that had paid off.

Quirrell was just a pile of ashes now and Harry was unconscious, just as I hoped. I discarded the cloak of invisibility and walked over to him. I briefly considered taking the Stone from him, but there's no way Dumbledore wouldn't eventually find it, somehow.

Not that the stone mattered, as I have finally located the real prize I sought.

I gazed upon the Mirror of Erised without wasting another second. I simply had to know.

And as I looked in to this magnificent piece of magic, I saw everything. Not only the world, but an entire collection of worlds. I saw infinity.

Alternate parentage and origins, different Sortings, time travel, various prophecies or lack of them, omnipresent magic, gods, aliens, death eaters, demons, angels-

It wasn't enough.

As the multiverse unfolded before me, I saw worlds going through an ice age, desert worlds, barren wastelands and jungles filled with life, wizards coexisting with dinosaurs, zombie apocalypses, muggle holocausts, everyone becoming ghosts, dragons having human intelligence, vampires being treated better than goblins, everyone owning a Philosopher's Stone...

It still wasn't enough. The vision stretched further.

I saw worlds emerging from nothingness and vanishing into it immediately afterwards, I saw the island of Azkaban becoming inhabited by Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, I saw a futuristic city, where muggles replaced their body parts with cybernetics while wizards lived miles under the surface, I saw a giant asteroid heading towards Earth. I saw-

The number of worlds grew, it would never be enough.

Wizards out-breeding muggles, muggles out-breeding wizards, death, life, disasters and miracles. Hagrid kissed by a Dementor instead of being expelled, Tom Riddle becoming Headmaster of Hogwarts, Grindelwald enslaving muggles. And yet, at the same time, Horcruxes never being invented, Argus Filch being a wizard, Umbridge revolutionizing healing magic, wizards and muggles coexisting peacefully.

The infinite possibilities never stopped flowing, they would never stop. It was all a chaotic mess, which was also neatly ordered at the same time.

Slowly, but surely I finally started seeing the reason for it all and I saw the small connections coming to and going from one possibility to another.

And as I focused on these connections I saw myself and yet not myself. The other me floated across infinity, memorizing everything he encountered, combining all the ideas.

And in that moment I knew the Mirror only showed lies, for the person in the Mirror successfully created a complete universe, while I could not.

 

LOTR/HP crossover here. Premise: Harry was given second chance at life, he is reborn as Feanor of the Noldor. He promises himself, after all the darkness he brought to his previous life, he will only bring beauty here. He uses his magic to craft beautiful and wondrous objects of power. The snippet comes much much later in the timeline, after a lot of Feanor's story has happened. Morgoth is rising and the Istari are attempting to rally defenses and stop him.

****

The candles flickered in the shadows of the hall he sat within. A long table stretched forth from his seat at the head, but few chairs were filled. Indeed only two others sat with him. Err the night had come and the pair had knocked upon his door, he had known it would be naught but trouble.

“You cannot ask this of me,” he said. Shadows deepened as he stared at the elder looking of the pair. A man dressed in grey, even down to the whiskers on his face.

“I cannot, but I must. Marcaunon, you must see reason. If we do not do this, the Enemy will grow more terrible than any of us can imagine. We must destroy the Palantir.” The man known as Mithrandir to some and Gandalf to others spoke quietly. The master of the hall sat quietly, gazing into the dark of the ceiling.

“40 years,” he whispered. Gandalf’s eyes narrowed as he glanced to his partner, a Sindarin elf, hooded and dark.

“It took me 40 long years to make them Mithrandir. Do you understand the measure of my love for them? They are children to me,” Harry murmured. Gandalf’s eyes widened slightly.

“They are but tools, Marcaunon, with which the Enemy would use to their fullest extent to bear down on us and learn all of our secrets. They must be destroyed,” he urged. The Sindarin stood.

“If you will not undertake this mission, than I will.” He said resolutely, marching out of the hall.

“Be wary, you are but a young elf. This task you set yourself, it is a long and arduous journey,” the man said quietly, “but, should you find them all. Bring them here and I shall unmake them. They are many. I cannot help but admit that I am hopeful you do not find all of them. But I will follow my word and unmake any you bring here.” The Master of the Hall stood.

“Feanor,” Gandalf whispered, “it is not your fault, that your creation serve his purpose. He can corrupt, even the most precious of all things. I am deeply sorry.” With that the Istari and the Sindarin left him in his hall, alone. Surrounded by visions of beauty that he had wrought, he despaired and the halls darkened further.

When he had been reborn on this world, he had sought to bring only good and beauty. But it seemed that was not to be. Even here, corruption and destruction spread in the wake of his work, even after he had shed the name Feanor and taken a home in the east, as Marcaunon of the valley.

Harry Potter; reborn as Feanor of the Noldor, sat silently in his hall and fell to sorrow and grief that even this should be taken from him as everything else had been.

 

/~/



The Wand of Destiny; the Deathstick; the Elder Wand. All names for the same fifteen inches of elder wood with a core of Thestral tail-hair. Fifteen inches of elder wood that had cut a swath through Wizarding history, leaving a trail of corpses in its wake.

It was an insidious instrument, the Elder Wand, Harry surmised. No one truly knew why the wand was so special, as none who had wielded it had written about any of its properties. Many, like Dumbledore, had withheld its secrets out of a wish for the wand’s allegiance to remain unknown. Others simply never had the inclination to describe it for posterity. Many more likely hadn’t had the time before they were cut down by another looking to master its power.

Well, Harry revised, no one who hasn’t used it truly knew. He had little doubt that Dumbledore had known exactly what the Deathstick was capable of. By all accounts he had held mastery over the wand for decades, from his defeat of Grindewald until that fateful night at the top of Astronomy Tower.

Dumbledore had been an exceptional wizard before he had taken the wand, so there was little doubt in Harry’s mind that he had managed to, over the course of decades, unlock the myriad of secrets the Deathstick held. He was privy to more than a few himself, and he had only held mastery for six years.

“Could be a Master of Death thing, though,” he murmured as his boots crunched the remnants of dead leaves left over from winter underfoot.

The Forbidden Forest was quiet at dusk. The thousands of magical animals that called its trees home were either just lying down for the night or just arising. It wouldn’t have mattered to Harry either way. He never saw any creatures in the Forest anymore unless he sought them out personally. He had deduced years ago that all of them, from Aragog’s brood to the Centaurs, gave him a wide berth.

“You stink of death, Harry Potter,” Firenze had told him when he went to question the centaur about the strange reticence the creatures had about him. “And all creatures fear death.”

He was the alpha-predator in these woods whenever he chose to set foot in them – more and more these days. His presence was felt by all creatures particularly attuned to the magic the Forest held within it, and they acted accordingly.

Harry couldn’t say he minded. If his status as the Master of Death kept prying eyes away from his nighttime activities, he wasn’t going to question it. He had learned the value of privacy by his thirteenth birthday.

Now if only it worked on wizards too, he groused as his steps brought him to his destination at last.

Dense tree cover gave way to open space as twilight faded into night. Moon and starlight glittered like diamonds on the surface of a reasonably sized pond in the middle of a clearing, and Harry allowed himself the ghost of a smile.

He had found the clearing, idyllic in its own way, on one of his many attempts to get rid of the Resurrection Stone. He had found it sitting on his left ring finger one day, more than a year after the Battle of Hogwarts, and had nearly had a heart attack in the middle of the Auror Academy. He had banished it into the Atlantic Ocean, only for it to reappear a year later on the same finger without warning. The Forest was a logical choice, for he had nearly lost it there once, and happened upon the clearing as he stomped through the trees looking for a suitable place to leave the blasted Hallow.

Needless to say, it hadn’t worked. The Stone now sat on his right ring finger, under a combination glamour/disillusionment charm that he had cast with the Elder Wand itself. Sometimes he forgot it was there; others it dragged him down like a leaden weight strapped to his hand.

The clearing now served the purpose of Harry’s primary place of practice. It was some two miles away from Hogwarts’ grounds, well secluded and out of the way. No one would happen upon him here, and he preferred it that way.

Eleven inches of holly and phoenix feather appeared in his hand with a thought, removed from an undetectable pocket charm. Focused intent called forth his magic; he brought his wand up, tip pointed skyward, before swinging it down with a twirl and an elegant sweep to his right. Harry exhaled slowly as he felt the heaviness of his privacy wards descend on the clearing.

“Right then,” he said, unworried about being overheard now. He dropped to a knee and pulled the moleskin pouch Hagrid had gifted him back on his seventeenth birthday from around his neck. He felt around the expanded inside of the pouch for a moment before retrieving a worn stack of parchment and putting it on the forest floor.

Familiar thin, loopy handwriting greeted his eyes as he put the pouch back. Dumbledore’s personal notes was no stranger to him these days; he had hundreds of papers tucked in different places at his flat. The late headmaster’s portrait had been kind enough to inform him that his old notes were part of his estate, and had been given to Aberforth upon his death; the grouchy barkeep had been more than willing to pass them on to Harry when asked.

As usual, Harry felt as if he was reading a different language whilst looking at the notes of one of the greatest wizards of all time. A rueful smile split his lips as he shook his head. He understood about every third word, and that was only because of the magical theory review he had undertaken once he realized he had no bloody idea what the notes meant. Even Hermione would struggle with these, he thought with no small amount of amusement, imagining his friend’s frustration.

Skimming the parts he had managed to interpret one last time, he returned the notes to his pouch and stood. A deep breath escaped his lungs as Harry cleared his mind in preparation. A twitch of his wrist coupled with a thought returned his holly wand to its pocket in space. “Here we go,” Harry breathed as a second thought retrieved the Elder Wand from its own undetectable pocket charm.

The Deathstick fit in his hand like it was made for him, but no sooner had he grasped the legendary wand did a fog settle over his mind. Harry inhaled sharply as he felt his mind cloud over, a haze of invulnerability tugging at his thoughts and pulling his lips back into a feral grin. Dimly, as if from a distance, Harry felt the stirrings of his magic as its will was bent to the Wand. Great columns of fire flashed through his mind before being replaced by blasts of light so bright they were blinding –

And, as soon as it had come, the will that had broken Voldemort’s Imperius Curse at fourteen reasserted itself. The fog of invulnerability disappeared quicker than it had appeared, the visions of magic beyond his comprehension returning to whence they came.

Unbidden, Harry sneered as he glanced at the most powerful wand in the world. “Bloody thing’s more trouble than its worth…” he muttered.

And therein was one of the sinister secrets of the Elder Wand. It had a mind of its own; a memory for all the magic, great and powerful, that it had cast across the centuries. Over the time Harry had held mastery, the Wand’s will had become more powerful, trying every time he used it to assert its dominance over his mind.

It wanted to be used. Begged to be let loose on the world as it had once been.

He had gone running to Dumbledore’s portrait the first time the Wand’s presence had been strong enough to penetrate his rudimentary mental defenses. The old man had told him of his own experiences through the years, and how he had learned to overcome the temptation to use the Wand as it wanted to be.

“The Elder Wand, Harry, is a responsibility more than a privilege. Its power is great, but comes at a terrible cost,” he said, unknowingly echoing Garrick Olivander’s words to Harry on his first day in the Wizarding World.

Green eyes hooded as he stared at the fifteen inches of elder wood, Harry chuckled darkly. “And here I though being the ‘Master of Death’ would’ve given me some special resistance,” he said darkly.

Dumbledore was silent for a moment, mulling over his words for a moment before, “Perhaps being the Master of Death, you’re acceptance of death, Harry, shows that you already have the strength you need to resist temptation.”

His respect for the old man had gone up immensely, knowing as he did that Dumbledore had resisted the urge to let loose the Wand’s power for over fifty years. And he wasn’t about to let the blasted stick overpower him so easily.

It was an insidious instrument of death and destruction, capable of feats of magic both great and terrible. It was, also, Harry reflected, his greatest teacher to date.

Taking deep, steady breaths to calm his mind, Harry extended his senses outward and inward at the same time, casting about for the latent magic in the area much like Dumbledore had tried to teach him on their fateful Horcrux hunt.

Magic, much like the Elder Wand, was alive in a way that most witches and wizards had no real conception of. It left traces and imprints just as surely as Harry left footprints walking through the Forbidden Forest. One could follow it anywhere, learn its secrets, if one only knew how to look.

After six years of training with Aurors and studying magical theory to better understand Dumbledore’s notes, Harry was reasonably adept at the art of sensing the magic around him.

And sensing that magic after it left an imprint could teach one a lot about the nature of a spell.

It was a rather moot point for most wizards; even if they could sense the magic of a spell and interpret it well enough to learn how to cast it – few could – it was a useless skill to have as they would have to already know how to cast the spell in the first place in order to study its imprint. The whole process was redundant.

The Elder Wand, therefore, with its consciousness, was a rather invaluable teacher. Harry could cast spells utterly beyond his comprehension with the Elder Wand. And afterwards, having left an imprint, he could study it. Sometimes it took days, sometimes it took weeks, sometimes it took minutes depending on the complexity of the spell, but given enough time he could learn to understand the manipulation of the magic in order to cast the same spells with his holly wand.

Hermione, he reflected with no small amount of amusement, would’ve been appalled at his backwards approach. It was damn near cheating, but he wasn’t Dumbledore and he never would be. He didn’t have the mind for hundreds of books on magical theory, nor did he have the time or patience for years of dedicated study to any number of arcane branches of magic.

Ron, if Harry ever bothered to tell him about it, would’ve surely loved it.

Having mastered himself, Harry brandished the Elder Wand with a flourish and cast a quick Bubble Head Charm on himself. He had been working on this spell for damn near three months and felt he was close to a final breakthrough, but there was no need to be reckless. Cast by the most powerful wand in the world, the charm wasn’t about to break for anything.

Satisfied with his minor preparations, green eyes turned toward the glittering pond at the center of the clearing. Here goes nothing.

He exhaled sharply as he jabbed the Elder Wand toward the surface of the water, giving it half a clockwise turn before sweeping it upward. No sooner had he done so did he feel the foreign presence of his spell’s magic assault his mind, battling for dominance just as the maw of a dragon shot upward from the water and roared.

It swept out of the pond with crash, almost elegant and graceful as it swept through the tiny clearing and made directly for Harry, itching to murder its caster and break free of its chains.

The Elder Wand snapped up almost of its own accord as the roaring dragon approached, and Harry’s will clamped down on the ancient magic and shaped it to his will. The dragon soared over his head at the last moment as he seized control. He turned slowly, sweeping his wand around him in a circle and directing his creation around the clearing. He led it as if on a leash in large laps around the pond from which it had been born, every moment a struggle as the magic’s want to crush, break, and drown everything in its path warred with Harry’s mind.

But he had the will to resist the consciousness of a wand that had left dozens of wizards dead through the annals of history, the will to resist the mind of the most powerful Dark Lord of the last century. No spell was his master.

Harry breathed steadily as he maintained control of the monstrous water construct. Heavy mist fell off the dragon in waves for every meter it covered in its laps, soaking him to the bone through his heavy Auror robes. He was in the eye of the storm, calm and measured as he directed the creation of his magic in concentric circles.

Abruptly, he jabbed his up and then down with a grunt of exertion, and the dragon roared its will once more as it leapt and dove back into the pond with an almighty crash that sent a mini tidal-wave hurtling into Harry and nearly knocked him off his feet.

He chuckled as he caught his breath, putting away the Deathstick and retrieving his holly wand. An absent minded flick dried his robes. “Well then,” he said, voice echoing in the Bubble Head charm. Sitting down on the now soaked ground, he closed his eyes and extended his senses outward and inward again.

The spell was fresh, and easy to feel because of it. The magic in the air was so potent Harry felt as though he could breathe it in. It was waiting in the atmosphere tantalizingly, just out of reach and teasing him with the secrets he sought. In a way, his method of learning was far more complex and difficult than simply studying the theories behind the spells, but it was far less time consuming.

And, as much as Harry would admit to not wanting to travel the world in search of arcane spells, his way was just that much more fun. He had always been a more practical learner.

Opening his eyes that had drifted closed as he attempted to follow the magical imprints his spell had left on the clearing, Harry sighed. It wasn’t Fiendfyre, which could be summoned by any wizard dumb enough to try it. He knew the initial magical manipulation he had to go through to summon the mystical flood waters. He had the mental fortitude to control it. It was the little details he struggled with, and the little details were always the most elusive remnants of a spell.

There were certain idiosyncrasies to it, like there were to most spells, that made it what it was. Without them, it was merely an overpowered wave of water, not the single known counter to Fiendfyre in the modern world.

“Nothing for it, then,” he concluded, resigned to another night of experimentation. It was frustrating, yes, but necessary. There was no telling when the next Dark Lord wannabe would decide to make a push for control, and there would be another. There always was.

And when that happened, Harry couldn’t rely on twists of fate, archaic magical artifacts, or prophecies to carry him through to the end. He had to be ready.

He would be ready.

Steeling his focus again, Bubblehead charm in place, Harry brought his holly want to bear. “Aqua Eructo!”

And the dragon roared its fury once more.


/~/

Had an idea that I couldn't get rid of, so I wrote it down. Not even sure if it's a good idea. Probably isn't. But whatever. Little companion piece to the scene I posted a while back with Auror!Harry.

Hope it is at least kinda decent.

 

I'd say you easily cleared that bar. That was really fun. I'm a sucker for a well-executed "Harry learns cool magic" scene.

 

It's mokeskin* btw.

Other than that, very cool.

 

Glad it's mostly enjoyable. Any thoughts on the idea itself? Just sorta came to me when I was dreaming up ways for Harry to actually get decent at tough magic over time.

 

The idea is pretty good. The trouble is giving Harry an opponent as good as he is, considering Voldemort is a goner. An army of folks, perhaps? I mean, dude is Master of Death and is getting spell tips from the Deathstick. He doesn't get much over-powered than that.

 

This is really the problem with post Hogwarts stuff in general. Where do you go after facing a basilisk, dementors, a cerberus, a dragon, a werewolf, a sphinx, and the greatest dark lord in modern memory? He had a crazy 7 years and along the way he saw some of the most fearsome magical creatures and some of the most legendary magical artifacts.

I'm honestly not sure you could pull off having another dark lord rise so quickly. I could see maybe trying to run with the angle that Harry's biggest threat is boredom. He finally got the peace that he wanted only to find out he missed the thrill of his adventures. Then he runs off globe trotting getting into all sorts of mischief with some other character like Hermione or Ron.

Of course, I think maybe throwing out the post Hogwarts angle entirely could be good as well. Have Harry slip back into Hogwarts when he is supposed to be standing watch while Hermione and Ron sleep so he can steal the wand. The above scene could be modified to fit him slipping away at night to practice with the wand while Hermione is asleep as he doesn't want to risk losing the only person who remained loyal to him by having a repeat of the whole debacle with the HBP book. His mastery of the wand could be easily explained away by the fact that he stole it or by making him disarm Draco in the fight at Hogwarts during his 6th year.

 

You could have the challenge come from the remnants of the Death Eaters. After the first war some of them (Bellatrix et al) didn't just give up, they kept the war going. Having seen proof that Voldemort can be resurrected and being more firmly entrenched in the Ministry than ever I can see the Death Eaters refusing to give up the fight, even after Voldemort's seemingly been killed. I imagine that the Death Eaters would split into several factions which would present Harry with a nice moral quandary when one faction offers to ally with him against another.

Alternatively, you could have him discover that several Death Eaters have fled Britain and when he finds them years later he discovers that they've taken service Evil Person X.

I love the interpretation of the Deathstick. I had something similar once, though mine was heavily influenced by the Denarians from Dresden Files and what I wrote didn't turn out half so well as your snippet.

 

Instead of going same old routine of dark wizard angle go for Political one. Harry becomes powerfull so his enemies doesn't try to fight him with wands instead they go subtle trying to restrict him by other means.

 

This is part of the idea that I've had running around in my head for the better part of a few months. I like post-Hogwarts because it's untapped. There's a lot of room for cool stuff going down.

My idea kinda goes along with what's been said. Harry's Hogwarts years were marked with ridiculous adventures the likes of which aren't seen by most adult wizards. And, in the later years especially, the knowledge of him having to kill Voldemort was driving him. After that kind of a childhood, not hard to imagine Harry sort of aimlessly floating about without much direction. Voldemort defined his life from age 1.

My fic would be about that struggle to define who exactly he is in a world where his nemesis is gone. He's 23, yet seen and done more than most wizards three times his age. He's directionless, floundering because for the first time in years there's no prophecy or great conflict dictating his actions.

As far as plot goes, I like the idea of an underground war of sorts. Death Eater remnants causing trouble around Britain and the globe. I just need to take the time to flesh out exactly what I want to do with it.

 

After listening to this, I started to rewatch Firefly, reread Browncoat, Green Eyes and work on dozen different plot bunnies. After a while I was left with one that managed to combine most of elements I would like for this crossover to have. Since what little I actually wrote could only be described as a very early alpha, there is no better place to post it than this thread.

Fair warning about the grammar mistakes that are probably numerous. I'm always bad with this, but lately got rather rusty with my English (one of the reasons why I wanted to write something).

Prologue: Truthful Liar

River Tam was special.

Everyone knew that since her birth, but they finally understood exactly how unique she was when out of boredom she did her brother's homework so he could play with her. She was six and he was sixteen, preparing for entry tests to the Medical Academy.

Being special had lot of advantages and it had lot of disadvantages. For River one of the biggest was how she couldn't find someone who could follow her line of thoughts. Simon, who was as talented as a normal person could be, tried, but he could keep with her only in subjects that he studied extensively like biology and medicine.

That's why River convinced her parents to find a school where she could meet other people like her. She learned of few institutions like that, but hadn't decided which one she should choose just yet.

Since going to a normal school was a waste time for her, she often spent her time visiting other places that she found interesting. Like a bar, just across the street from her home, where its patrons played Xiangqi.

Though she wasn't very interested in a game itself, she liked the atmosphere and attitude of people she met there. They never got mad that a fourteen years old easily defeated them. Instead they used it as a motivation to get better and to judge whether they improved or not by how quickly she beat them the next time. It was a refreshing change from her teachers that most of time couldn't accept her uncanny ability to master within days topics that took them years to learn.

Once she was inside one person drew her attention. He was a new costumer. Not old, maybe in his mid twenties. This made him the second youngest person here which wasn't that hard considering that most patrons where well past their sixtieth birthday.

It wasn't the only thing odd about him. When everyone else was playing Xiangqi, he had a board of a Western chess placed before him waiting for an opponent.

And he had the greenest eyes she had ever seen.

“I'll play with you,” she said and without waiting for a reply sit down.

“Hello to you too,” said the young man. “Before we start you should probably know that I don't have much talent in playing chess. It's just a hobby I picked up from a friend.”

“Nobody here has much talent, especially compared to me,” she stated bluntly.

They played, both putting their pieces very quickly. It was like they weren't even stopping to think about their next move and withing few short minutes it was over.

“Shuōhuǎng zhě,” said very distraught River. She just lost her match. She never lost in any game that wasn't depended on lucky. Ever.

“Why am I a liar?”

“You said you don't have much talent in playing chess.”

“Because I don't.”

“Yet you won with me who has all talent that one person can have.”

“Well, yes,” admitted the man. “But you see, I only said I don't have much talent. I do have a lot of experience in playing chess though. More than one person possible can have.”

“You say truth to hide a lie.”

“And that, at worst, makes a truthful liar, not just a liar liar.”

“I'm going home,” she said and left upset.

She wasn't planning on returning, but she did the very next day. They played, much slower this time and she lost again.

“My name is Harry Potter,” he said when she was leaving.

“River Tam,” she answered. “And I'm not going to call you Harry.”

“No? Why not?”

“Because you're a liar,” she said. “That's what I should call you.”

“If you must call me that then at least add that I'm quite truthful in my lies.”

And that what she called him afterwards at home. Truthful Liar who tricked her to win a chess game. Her parents weren't exactly interested in hearing about him, but Simon was quite amused by how annoyed she was by this mysterious person. And after he heard how young he was, he started to teasing River that she may have a crush on a one man who managed to defeat her in anything.

She knew that he was only joking about it. If he thought there was any chance that was the truth he would start freaking out about it. Like all older brothers he tended to be a little overprotective when he thought someone could really hurt her. But for now, he just enjoyed hearing her stories about Truthful Liar and how he managed to once again best her at something.

It was a new experience to her. For the first time River meet someone who could keep up with her, not only in chess, but various topics she started to bring up in their discussions. Truthful often repeated that it was only because he had more experience since he certainly didn't have her uncanny talents. That was a mystery she intended to undercover. How exactly a man just ten years older than her could have enough experience to outweigh her talents?

Before she could discover it, she got an invitation to the Academy.

“Never heard of it,” said Truthful.

“They're a new institution, but is already considered the most prestigious school in the Alliance. And their learning program is amazing,” she said excited.

“Then you should go,” he said.

“I want to, but...”

“But?”

“Don't tell anyone, but I'm a little nervous,” she admitted. “It will be the first time when I will be away from my family.”

“It's a perfect fine reason to feel a little nervous.”

“I know, but it makes me question if I really need to go,” she said. “It's not like they will teach me anything that I can't learn on my own. It's just a matter of meeting people like me. But do I really want that? What if they discover that I'm not as special as everyone assumes?”

“Nah, I doubt that,” he said. “Beside, you can always consider it a challenge, something that you definitely could use in your life.”

“A challenge?” she asked intrigued.

“To prove that there may be many special people in the Verse, but there is only one like River Tam.”

“If you say it that way, I can't back down, can I?” she said. “I'm going to miss our games.”

“As I will.”

“And I'm going to miss you, Harry,” she said without looking at him. It was the first time she used his real name. “You will not be here when I'm back, will you?”

“Probably not,” he admitted. “I only stayed for so long because I enjoyed our little talks. But that doesn't mean our paths will never cross again.”

They did three years later.

* * *​

Chapter 01 – Milord Harry Potter, the Count of Great Britain

A companion chooses her own clients, that's guild law.

Yet very rarely, the guild sends a suggestion and unless the companion has a very good reason to decline, they're expected to comply.

That's how Inara Serra ended up agreeing to be an escort for Milord Harry XI Potter, the Count of Great Britain on a party celebrating the Unification Day on Persephone without knowing anything about the man himself. Which was quickly proving itself to be a mistake.

“Oh dear,” he said pointing at another arriving couple. “Can you believe what he's wearing? The last time this jacket was fashionable was when my great, great grandfather was finishing reconstructing our family's castle on Great Britain. And don't let me get started on what his wife is wearing.”

“I won't.”

The beginning of the evening wasn't all that bad. She arrived to the Potter Mansion and was taken by surprise how rich, yet tasteful it was in its exterior and interior.

Unfortunately, her host only got his family's richness and none of their taste. He wore colorful clothes made of the most expensive material found in the Verse. His main fashion statement was that he was rich. He even wore a little too big for his face glasses made of gold.

Yet, the man behind them was quite handsome. Probably even more if he wasn't using more gel on his hair that was probably safe for health.

And he had the greenest eyes she had ever seen.

But the appearances weren't the most important thing for the Companions. Unfortunately for Inara, Milord Harry (as he insisted on being called even after their introduction), had a very little in personality that she was seeking in her clients. To be honest, she was starting to get trouble keeping her smile and continuing their conversation.

“Now, where was I?” he asked.

“You were saying about your father's part in the Unification War.”

“Ah, yes,” he said. “As my grandfather often says, it was a complete foolishness on his part. Potters were there from the very beginning of the Alliance, helping to create and shape it. And my father decided to fight against it, joining Browcoats.”

“Did he survive the war?”

“Who knows? We haven't heard from him after my grandfather disowned him,” said Milord Harry drinking another champagne. “If he's anything like the rest of our family, he's probably still alive. We're infamously hard to kill. There few dozen stories of how my ancestors survived situations that would end lesser men. Like my uncle Sirius...”

By now Inara was only half listening to another story proving just how special and amazing was the Potter family. There was only so much arrogance and hubris that she could take from one man and for the first time in her career she was approaching her limits.

And it wasn't like she wasn't aware of how famous Potter Family generally was. Harry V Potter (they had a tradition of calling their oldest Harry) successfully argued from inclusion of male Companions in the Guilds which alone would make their name recognizable to Inara. Potter Family was widely know for being one of the richest and most influential houses in the Verse. Even their decline from power in last few years after Harry X betrayal and Harry IX decision to step away from the big politics didn't change their status as the elite of the elite.

“But enough about myself and my family,” he finally said. “Tell me about yourself. I heard that you travel a lot on a Firefly class ship. My grandfather had one too back in the day which means they must be really old.”

“She's called Serenity and she's a reliable ship with a wonderful crew.”

“And you visit a lot of the Rim worlds, right?”

“Yes, I...”

“I was thinking about doing the same,” he didn't let her finish. “You know just to see the Verse like my grandfather did in his youth. That reminds me of time when he ended up crashing into a newly terraformed planed that had no people on it and got stuck here for a year...”

Inara had a feeling that it was going to be a very long night.

“Looks who's here,” said a voice behind them. “Inara Serra.”

“Atherton,” she greeted him wary of his intentions.

“Atherton? As in Atherton Wing?” asked Milord Harry.

“You heard about me?”

“I will not stand for it,” he ignored him. “Where is our host? No matter.”

Milord Harry looked around until he spotted one of the servants.

“You,” he pointed at a short man carrying drinks. “Tell your employers that I will make sure everyone in Londinium hears what kind of people they associate with. Good night.”

He took Inara's hand and half dragged her to an exit before anyone, including Atherton, could react.

“Can you believe their nerve,” he said to himself once they were outside. “Forcing me to meet a man who has a black mark in the Companion registry.”

Inara decided to stay silent. There was no point in revealing that she was the one to gave it to Atherton. And she was secretly pleased by Milord Harry's reaction. Maybe there was more to this young man that she could notice at first.

“That actually reminds me of an adventure my granduncle Remus once had. He was quite a ladies man, something that many of may family are, including obviously myself...”

Or maybe not.

*

A good thing about spending night with a man in love with the sound of his voice is that he's less interested in doing anything else than speaking. Because of that while Inara was forced to endure endless stories of his family adventures, she avoided a physical part of their meeting.

“How was your night?” asked Kaylee after the Companion entered Serenity's kitchen.

“The quicker I forget about it, the better,” said Inara.

“That bad?”

“Imagine the most arrogant and full of themselves person you could even meet,” she said. “Multiply it by infinity and you will probably get only fraction of Harry, excuse me, of Milord Harry Potter.”

“Auch.” Winced Kaylee. “Then you're probably not going to be happy to see him again.”

“Even after million years it would be too soon.”

“How about now?” asked unsure Kaylee.

“What?” said alarmed Inara. “He's here?”

“Talking with the Captain.”

Inara quickly went outside with Kaylee following her.

“What are you doing here,” said the Companion and then quickly added. “Milord Harry.”

“Ah, hello my dear Inara,” he said. “I was just telling the Captain all good things you told me last night about him and his ship. And that I wish to travel around the Verse a little.”

“The Milord here is willing to pay a good money for this opportunity.”

“Do we even have a place for another passenger though?”

“I'm sure we can manage,” said the Captain. Moments before he was about to decline, not willing to take the arrogant man in his ship, but seeing how much more he apparently annoyed Inara changed his mind. If only for a short trip to the next planet. “You can stay in the second shuttle, but we're leaving soon, so better pack quickly.”

“Oh, I already have,” he pointed at the small mountain of suitcases nearby.

“That's all yours?”

“I know, I know,” he said. “It's not nearly enough for a man like myself, but my grandfather told me that I must travel lightly. Now well, I suppose Inara can show me where I will be staying and you can tell your men to bring my luggage inside.”

Milord Harry took Inara's hand under his arm and started walking into the ship. She looked back at Mal, but he only smiled at the visible annoyance in her eyes.

“I don't like him,” said Jayne coming closer to the Captain.

“You don't like most people,” pointed out Zoe joining them.

“Well, I don't like him more than I don't like most people,” he said. “Why are we taking him?”

“Because he's willing to pay a good money,” answered Mal. “Money that we could use right now.”

“We could just take it and leave him here,” Jayne proposed.

“That would make us thieves,” said Zoe.

“And how that's different from what we are normally?”

“We do not steal from our clients,” said the Captain. “We have a reputation to uphold. On the other hand he wants to pay for two months in advance and the money stays with us even if he chooses to stay somewhere else earlier than that.”

“And how are we suppose to do that?”

“In your case you just need to be yourself, Jayne,” said Mal.

“That I can do.”

 

Just a short drabble from a Harry Potter/Iron Man/Avengers story.

~*~*~​

It was the sun glinting off the metal that caught his attention. Harry tapped the brakes, reducing his breakneck speed fractionally, and followed the object’s fall. It’s coming down too fast, he thought. He couldn’t tell what it was – helicopter, drone or plane – but the Coalition ruled the sky over Afghanistan. That made it friendly, after a fashion.

He didn’t hesitate, turning the wheel to alter his course. The old four wheel drive slid as he left the dirt road and the tyres struggled to find traction on the rocky slope that bordered it. Ten minutes, he guessed. It would take him that long to navigate the hills and reach the crash site.

He wondered how long it would take the insurgents.

~*~*~​

There was no crash site – no burning, shattered hulk of an aircraft, no dead or dying crewmembers, not even an unmanned drone that needed destroying to keep sensitive components from falling into enemy hands. He could see pieces of metal half-buried in the ground. They formed a trail that he followed at a slow crawl, conscious of the possibility that, even now, insurgents could be descending on him, would be descending on him if the Uzbek’s men had caught his scent. The natural urge was to pour on speed but it would be easy to miss something if he did that so he went slow and hoped that two sets of heavily armed killers weren’t right behind him.

Did it change course? That seemed unlikely, though he’d known pilots of crashing aircraft who maintained some slight control right up until they’d hit the ground. He didn’t think that it could have moved away from the rough trajectory that he’d plotted as he watched it fall.

His faith was rewarded when he crested another hill and spotted a lone figure walking in the direction he was driving. The man paused and looked back, hearing the four wheel drive, and then started running. Harry caught him before he had gone a hundred metres and swerved the jeep in front of him. The man stopped, staring at him with wide eyes.

He hadn’t been expecting a Westerner.

“Tony Stark!” Harry blurted out before he could help himself.

“You’re British!” Stark said, just as surprised. He took a step back, tensing. “A British terrorist?”

“I’m Harry, British …” he trailed off. British what? Tony echoed the silent question a moment later. “Just British,” Harry said. “Call me a contractor if you need to label me.”

Tony stared at him, taking in his vest and its various accruements. On the passenger seat he could see a bunch of fabric that he took to be a robe.

“Give me a ride?” Tony asked. “I can pay for gas and your time. What’s your day rate? Hell, forget that. Get me out of here and I’ll make you rich.”

Harry pushed the driver’s side door open, revealing an M4 that was lying across his knees, the barrel pointed at Tony, and levered himself across and into the passenger seat.

“You want me to drive?”

“Can you shoot?”

“So, I’ll drive.” Tony settled himself behind the wheel of the idling four wheel drive. “Which way?”

“South for now,” Harry said, pointing. He checked his watch and grimaced.
“What?” Tony asked.

“I missed my ride to Kabul.”

“Military extraction?” Tony asked. Harry shook his head, no. “You can’t ask them to wait?” He pointed at one of the pockets on Harry’s vest that bulged with something the size and shape of a radio or, more likely, a satellite phone.

“They’re not picking up,” Harry admitted.

“Maybe the satphone’s broken.” Tony really didn’t want his rescuer to have problems of his own.

“No, they’re not picking up,” Harry said quietly. “We’re on our own. The good news is that there’s a Coalition outpost less than an hour from here – we’re talking a rifle company with two hundred trained men and the ability to call in enough firepower to standard off an armoured regiment.”

“What’s the bad news?”

“They’re an hour away, this is Afghanistan and the people who had you probably want you back,” Harry said, wondering how they’d lost him in the first place.

“Is there any more good news?”

Harry twisted and reached into the back. In the rear-view mirror Tony could see a large rifle case and a military pack. When he settled back into his seat he offered Tony a water bottle identical to a second one that he carried on his vest.

“I’ve got water.”

Tony accepted the bottle. “You’re a god.”

~*~*~​

They’d pulled back onto the road when the hills started to grow taller and harder to navigate. It was dangerous travelling by road but getting lost in the hills carried with it its own dangers. At least by road they would reach the outpost faster or, hopefully, run into a patrol.

The trouble came when they passing through a village, a collection of mud brick buildings that had been built around the local market. Tony had, at Harry’s instruction, slowed down as they entered the village, even though their white faces attracted more scrutiny than he felt comfortable with. Harry had gone rigid with tension, his head swivelling this way and that as he searched for threats. He knew how quickly the Taliban and other anti-Coalition militias could pass information when they wanted to. For all he knew they’d already put out an alert on himself and Tony.

Occupied as he was searching for a threat Harry didn’t notice the small boy who ran in front of the truck. Tony did and instinctively slammed on the brakes. Harry jerked forward, grunting as he hit the dash.

A crowd gathered quickly, a veiled woman scooping up the boy and disappearing with him into the mass of people.

“Drive through them.”

“What?”

“Drive through them!” Harry yelled.

He could see a trio of men carrying AK-47s approaching from the truck’s driver’s side and knew there’d be others in the crowd, using the civilians as shields. He pulled the M4 to his shoulder, sighting on the armed men through the open driver’s side window. They ducked into an open door as they saw him move.

Tony, spotting a rifle in the crowd, pressed the accelerator flat to the floor and the four wheel drive leapt forward with all the grace of an elephant. The crowd scattered and there was a burst of wild gunfire that missed everything.

The explosion – a near-miss from an RPG - buffeted the rear of the truck and yanked the wheel, overcompensating, and the boxy four wheel drive rolled. It hit someone’s house and stopped, stuck on its roof. Without seatbelts Harry and Tony had been tossed about and ended up in a heap on the roof.
Harry recovered first, despite the encumbrance of his body armour and webbing. He kicked the cracked windscreen out while Tony was still righting himself and slithered out as a chorus of excited shouts filled the air. Tony didn’t understand the Pashto but he understood the tone.

Still prone, Harry risked a look around the edge of the overturned jeep. Two armed men were approaching with half a dozen more hanging back. Harry shot one of them, putting a three round burst through his chest. The other man froze for half a second, long enough for Harry to kill him before their back up started firing. The sheer weight of gunfire forced Harry to pull back, hugging the ground as the 7.62mm rounds punctured the thin-skinned four wheel drive.

“Grab the pack!” he ordered Tony.

The billionaire hauled the pack out with him. Harry took it from him and pushed a Glock into his hand.

“Make sure they don’t circle around.”

“We need to get out of here.” Tony was shouting, partly to be heard over the slackening gunfire and partly in response to the adrenaline that was pumping through his body.

Harry pulled a small lump of plastic explosive from his pack and fixed a detonator to it. “I can’t leave the rifle and it’s too heavy to carry.” Harry didn’t want to be responsible for arming the local insurgents with a fifty calibre sniper rifle. He set the timer as Tony fired off half a dozen wild shot at the feet of a gunman, sending him scrambling backwards. He tossed it into the jeep and left the pack where it lay.

“Stay behind me and, for god’s sake, don’t shoot me in the back,” Harry ordered.

He scrambled away from the four wheel drive, sticking close to the wall of the house that it had landed against. He rounded the corner of the house, leading with his M4, and started running down the alley when he realised it was clear. He could hear Tony following him, his breathing laboured as he struggled to keep up, but he didn’t slow down.

The village was surrounded by fields that were crisscrossed with drainage ditches and broken walls. There best chance for survival was to get into the fields and use it as cover to move further away from the village. The village itself was too small and the population too hostile to conceal them for long.

At the edge of the village, where the buildings ended and there was nothing except a hundred metres of open ground before they reached the fields, Harry spun and brought the rifle to his shoulder.

“Keep moving,” he ordered Tony. “Get into the field.”

He swept the buildings as he backpedalled, waiting for a gunman to appear. The explosion from his bomb didn’t surprise him but it did serve as a signal for him to turn and sprint after Stark who had nearly reached the edge of the field. It was the best distraction that he was going to get.

Bullets whizzed through the air around them as they dived into the lush green plants, disappearing from sight.

“Stick close and take these,” Harry said, handing him two spare magazines for the Glock.

“How long until we reach the outpost?”

“Two hours by foot if we don’t have to detour much. If they call in enough reinforcements to mount a serious search we’ll …” Harry trailed off, his lips curling into a smile beneath his short beard.

It took Tony, half-deafened by the gunfire, a second to realise what had made smile. In the distance but growing louder with every second was the deep whump-whump-whump of a helicopter. Multiple helicopters, Tony realised.

“What do we do?” Tony asked.

“We pop smoke and hope that they land to help,” Harry replied. Some pilots would stop to investigate but others would suspect an ambush and report the incident while they climbed high, seeking safety in altitude.

A rocket streaked overhead, an RPG fired at the helicopters by someone in the village. There was a buzz of gunfire as someone responded with a minigun. Harry pulled Tony low and tossed a smoke grenade. The wind blew the red smoke into the air while Harry and Tony slid into a dry drainage ditch.

There were two helicopters. Both Harry and Tony recognised the familiar shape of Blackhawks. One of them circled the area, the two door gunners suppressing enemy fire with their miniguns, while the second one descended, the downwash from the rotors flattening the crop.

“Rhodey!” Tony exclaimed as he spotted his friend in the pilot’s seat. He stood and the door gunner swivelled the minigun towards him, freezing him in place. Harry rose slowly next to him, the M4 dangling free as he held his hands up, trying to make himself appear as unthreatening as possible.

An infantry squad spilled from the Blackhawk’s hold and surrounded the pair in a measure that was half protective and half preventative. After all, they had no idea what had happened to Tony during his captivity, whether he’d been turned, and they didn’t know Harry at all. Since they left him with his weapon Harry thought that they might have assumed that that he was a special operator of some description.

They were half-pulled, half-pushed into the Blackhawk’s sparse interior and settled into uncomfortable seats as the helicopter began to lift off. Harry allowed himself to relax fractionally, to decompress.

Tony leaned towards him and, shouting so he could be heard over the helicopter, said, “Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

 

Apologies if the format(such as font and color) isn't great. Copying from google docs is a bitch.


So this little bout of insanity is the thought child of several ideas being thrown around on IRC. Ideas included (but were not limited to): Bros!Dudley and Harry, Crazy uncle!Harry, and 'Harry along with traditional slytherin wife visit Dudley's kids'. It was supposed to be pure humor/cracked, but then I had a talk with sorrows and things turned decidedly more grimdark.

~~~
Uncle Harry
~~~
​

The first sign of disturbance on the otherwise peaceful Dursley household was the sound of the doorbell ringing.

The second came from the excited voice of a five year old.

“They’re here! Daddy, they’re here!”

“Settle down, Jennie.” Dudley Dursley admonished his daughter, scooping her in his arms as she attempted to teleport towards the door. “No running in the hallways. And no yelling.”

“Sorry daddy.” The little girl said, her apologetic look not nearly good enough to hide her excitement.

“Moira, can you get the door?” Dudley called out, though it proved unnecessary. His wife was already at the intercom receiver.

“Hello?”

A muffled voice said something Dudley couldn’t hear, but his wife replied happily. ‘Certainly dear. Remember, on the fourth floor!’ before she pressed the buzzer. Their guests had arrived.

She turned to look at him from her position next to the door. “Honey, can you get the boys?”

Dudley nodded and, little girl still in his hands, he turned around and went deeper into the apartment. He opened the first door after at the left of the hallway to find his seven year old son, stretched out on his bed and reading a comic.

Jennie was gripping his neck with a lot of strength for a five year old. Her excited chattering about her aunt and uncle brought a smile to Dudley’s face.

“Come out, son. Your aunt and uncle are here.”

“Wicked!” John replied. He tossed the comic to the side carelessly and all but jumped to his feet.

“Put on your slippers.” Dudley instructed the excited boy. “And tuck your shirt in. We have visitors.”

“Aw, come on dad!” John complained, even as he complied with hasty movements. “You know Uncle Harry doesn’t care.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Dudley replied, as he usually did.

“Whatever. Happy now?”

“Yes. Go get your brother and join us in the living room.” Dudley said as he set his daughter down. “Take Jennie with you and join us all together.”

John ran outside, going two more doors down and knocking insistently on the door there.

Dudley turned back towards the living to the sounds of his son shouting.

“Vernon! Come out already, uncle is here! Come out!”

“Would you quit yelling?!” Came his eldest son’s voice from inside.


He returned to the door just as the knock came, and Moire returned from the kitchen, where she was no doubt checking on the food.

“It is I.” Came a regal female voice from outside.

Moira opened the door, revealing their guest. Blonde hair caught in an elegant ponytail, tall, undoubtedly beautiful and wearing a traveling cloak above a dark blue dress, Daphne Potter was standing there with her purse and a bottle in her hands.

“I greet you.” She said as she nodded to the two of them.

“Welcome, dear,” Moira said as she opened the door fully and moved to the side. “Please come in.”

“Thank you.” Daphne said as she entered. She slowly removed her cloak, which Moira accepted.

“Where is Harry?” Dudley asked.

“He is attempting to find a safe spot to land the travelling machine.”

At Moira’s slightly confused look, Dudley made sure Daphne wasn’t looking at him before he mouthed ‘he’s parking’ as clearly as he could. His wife understood and gave him a nod.

Daphne extended her hand holding the bottle and Dudley accepted it. Looking at it revealed it to be a somewhat expensive wine bottle.

“Thank you, you shouldn’t have.”

“We procured this at the local supreme market. Harry would not allow me to bring something of true quality.” Daphne explained, sneering down at the wine bottle.

“Super market, dear. Super market.” Moira supplied helpfully.

“Whatever. I care not for such trivial muggle establishments.”

“Aunty Dee!” Came the excited voice of his daughter, who just entered the entrance hall along with his two boys. Not waiting for a reply, the five year old propelled herself at her aunt, all but jumping at her. Daphne caught the little girl in her arms and held her as the little terror attempted to suffocate her with her tiny arms.

“Hello, little mongrel.” Daphne said, her voice flat and unwelcoming, but her hands stroked the little girl’s long brown hair and there was a fond warmth in her eyes as she looked down at her niece. “Did you miss me, perhaps?”

“Course I did, aunty!”

“Let me see you.” Daphne said as she set her down. The little girl, stood up straight and flashed her a somewhat toothless smile.

“My my,” Daphne said “You’re getting prettier and prettier. It must be a muggle survival strategy, to allow their young to survive into adulthood.”

“Thanks aunty! You’re very pretty!”

At this, Daphne cracked a small smile. “As you said, littlest mongrel.” This made the little girl giggle.

“Hello Aunt Daphne.”

Now the Missus Potter turned towards the two boys. John was smiling up at her, and Vernon was doing his best to look bored and disinterested in the whole affair.

“Greetings, nephews.”

“How was your drive?” John asked.

Even Daphne’s perfect breeding could not keep the look of pure irritation off of her face. “Horrible. Muggle transportation is tortuous. There were so many machines around us, we would have arrived faster on foot. I’ll never understand why we couldn’t have just-”

At this, Dudley interrupted her with a cough. Daphne looked at him, askance, and he gave her a meaningful look. Her eyes widened and some color found its way to her cheeks, so Dudley knew she had remembered. His family did not know about magic, and he intended to keep it that way.

“Sorry.” Daphne mumbled.

“You don’t like the car, Aunt Dee?”

Daphne turned toward Vernon, who had asked the question.

“No, little nephew, I do not like the ‘carr’ at all. Who would?”

“Everyone else?”

“Bah.” Daphne scoffed. “Uneducated muggles and their terrible ideas. I almost pity the lot of you. You come up with worse punishments for yourselves than we ever could, to voluntarily sit in these ‘traffic jaamms’ every day. Madness!”

Even Vernon cracked a smile at that. Dudley knew their aunt’s antics always amused his children. Daphne’s particular views were never explained to them, so to his kids it was just their aunt being whacky and talking funny. Not even his wife truly understood. He’d told her she was a kind of extreme hippie environmentalist with some complicated mental conditions and luckily his wife had been too polite to ask her about it. The Potters were a part of their life they’d accepted years ago.

“Go give your aunt a hug, boys.” Moira instructed, no doubt embarrassed on their behalf. The boys approached, even Vernon not offering a complaint.

“Hmm. I suppose I can allow your filth on me this once.” Daphne said as the boys gave her a hug. Vernon was less than a head shorter than her.

“But aunty,” John said through a giggle of his own, “we had a shower this morning.”

“Of course.” Daphne deadpanned, though it was lost on the kids, “how silly of me.”

A new voice was heard. “Everybody having fun?”

Everyone turned toward the door, which was open, to see Harry Potter standing just inside. The years had been kind to his cousin, Dudley would always grumble. Long gone were the years when he was a scrawny little kid with clothes that didn’t fit. Now Harry Potter filled out his-very expensive- clothes very well, was about as tall as Dudley himself, and had an air of mischief, nonchalance and confidence about him.

“I could’ve sworn I’d closed the door.” Dudley heard his wife’s confused mumble. He was about to tell her that she must have forgotten it open, when-

“Uncle Harry!” Jennie screeched. Dudley was too late to hold her back, so the girl shot herself at his cousin at impressive speeds for her slight build. Harry caught her, laughing, and effortlessly raised her off the floor and over his head in a spin.

Jennie laughed uncontrollably as Harry spun around with her over his head, before placing her down.

“Hey there pretty lady.”

“Uncle Harry, Uncle Harry! Sweets! Sweets!”

Harry made a show of patting his pockets and looking confused.

“No sweets here. You know your daddy doesn’t approve.”

Jennie giggled, but wasn’t deterred. “But uncle, you always have sweets!”

“Do I?” Harry smirked and lowered himself until he was eye to eye with Jennie.

“Yeah!”

“I don’t.” Harry said, shaking his head. “But maybe you do?”

And then he reached inside the pocket of Jennie’s jeans and pulled out what was undoubtedly a piece of wrapped candy.

“See?” He said.

Jennie squealed as she grabbed the candy, quickly unwrapping it among giggles and stuffing it in her mouth.

“Now now,” Moira scolded, “dinner will be soon, young lady. And you!” She said, turning to Harry. “Stop giving my children sweets before dinner.”

Harry pretended to look around, before pointing at himself. “Me?” He said, voice dripping innocence. “I didn’t give her anything. She had it in her pocket.”

“Come on, uncle Harry.” Vernon interjected, making Harry turn towards him. “We’re not little kids anymore. I don’t buy your tricks.”

Harry grinned. “Is that so, Vernon? What are you now, eleven?”

“Thirteen!” The young boy answered hotly.

“Thirteen, of course. My bad. Are your pockets empty, Vernon?”

“Of course! What does that have to-” He stopped mid-sentence as his hands, which had reflexively moved to his pockets at their mention, suddenly bumped against something solid. Eyes wide, he slowly pulled out another piece of candy from his own pocket.

“But … how…” he mumbled, face red from embarrassment.

Harry gave him a winning smile. “Magic.”

Dudley resisted the urge to bang his head against a wall.

“Uncle!” John shouted. “Me, too!”

As Harry moved towards his youngest nephew, Moira shook her head and turned away.

“I can’t watch this anymore.” She said overdramatically. “I’m going to go set the table.”

At this, Dudley saw Harry turn and give his wife a meaningful look. Daphne gave him a nod and schooled her face into a mask of determination.

“Do you …” she began to ask Moira, before pausing for a second, “...require any assistance?”

His wife let out a hearty laugh. “No dear, but thank you. I know how you hate those kinds of things. Everything is almost ready, it’ll just be a minute.”

“Oh.” Daphne said, obviously relieved, “Alright. tell me if I can help.”

“Kids.” Dudley said, addressing his children. “Let your uncle get out of his coat and settle down. Go wash your hands.”

With a chorus of ‘yes dad’ the three kids ambled away, each munching on a piece of candy. Dudley seriously doubted they’d those sweets on any store in this world.

“Hey.” Harry said as he approached, giving him his coat and extending his hand. Dudley shook it.

“You know I don’t want you giving my children sweets.”

“Come on, Big D.” Harry said, waving him away. “You’re being too harsh on the little tykes. A sweet here and there won’t hurt them.”

Dudley twitched at the use of the nickname. Harry was one of the very few who knew Dudley, age 36, working a 9 to 5 job, ever went by something so silly, and definitely the only one to still use it.

“They’re my kids.” Dudley reminded.

“And I’m their uncle.” Harry replied, as the three of them moved towards the living room and sat down. “I’m supposed to spoil them.”

Dudley let out a sigh, before abandoning this line line of discussion. He doubted he’d finally manage to convince his cousin to stop trying to fatten up his kids.

“How’re the kids?” He asked, looking at his cousin’s spouse. Her constant sour expression turned into one of distaste.

“With the blood traitors.”

“She means the Weasleys.” Harry supplied.

“That hag has been pestering me for weeks, months even. I swear if she tries to poison my children’s minds with her family’s special brand of insanity there will be hell to pay.”

“Molly wanted to have the kids over for the weekend.” Harry explained. “We agreed.”

At Daphne’s scoff, Harry just squeezed her hand and chuckled. Dudley shook his head. Watching those two never got old.

“And are Lily and … Sirius doing alright?”

“Fine, fine. School complaints, boyfriend and girlfriend trouble, the usual drivel. Don’t tell me you still don’t like the name Sirius?”

Dudley smiled. “It’s a weird name.”

Harry scoffed. “You named your kid Vernon. Who names their kid Vernon?”

“You’re one to talk.” Daphne interjected. “You wanted to name our child ‘Severus’.”

Color found its way to Harry’s face, while Dudley’s lit up.

“Really? He asked. “I didn’t know that. Please, tell me more about your naming superiority.”

“Hey … shut up. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

They had a good chuckle about almost-Severus, before the topic changed.

“How about you, Big D? All good?”

“Boring work stuff.” Dudley said. “Might get a raise soon, if all goes well.”

“Finally get that car you had your eye on?”

“Maybe.” He nodded. “Or maybe I’ll take Moira and the kids and go somewhere nice for a while, with the bonus. Not sure yet.”

“That sounds good.”

“How’s work at the … ministry?” Dudley asked, testing the word in his tongue. It still seemed strange to him, even after all these years, that a mundane and organized concept as a ministry would be so prevalent in the world of magic.

“Eh, you know how it is.” Harry said. “With the recent holiday everyone’s been slacking off. Sports has been picking on Accidents recently and somehow they expect us to referee for them. It’s all fun and games until someone has to reattach an ear, I say.”

“Right, an ear. Of course.”

The kids picked this point join them on the living room. John rushed over to Daphne’s side and sat next to her on the couch, while Jennie went on the other side and sat next to Harry. His cousin pulled his daughter and sat her on his knee, much to her delight. Vernon sat next to Dudley.

John bumped his shoulder to Daphne’s side and started nuzzling her.

“What are you doing you dirty little-”

“Look, aunty!” John cut her off, laughing. “We washed and now we’re all clean.”

“They’ll never find your body, muggle dog! Don’t touch me!” Daphne threatened as she tried to scoot further away from the boy, only to bump into her husband who refused to budge and looked away. With a grin, Harry wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulders, thus she could not move from her spot and had to suffer John’s nuzzling.

“I will not stand for this!”

“John.” Dudley admonished. “Don’t pick on your aunt.”

With that the middle Dursley kid pulled away from Daphne, still laughing.

“Sorry, Aunt Dee.”

“Laugh it up. See if you receive any birthday presents from me this year.”

John’s face turned from laughing to scandalized. “You wouldn’t!”

“Watch me.” Daphne challenged, glaring at her nephew.

His eyes filled up with what Dudley knew to be crocodile tears, and he aimed his best devastated look at his aunt.

“B-but I only wanted a cuddle aunty, why can’t I have a birthday present, don’t you like me?” He said, fat tears running down his face. Dudley tried to conceal a smile ay Daphne’s panicky look. John had worked out how to cry on command almost a year ago, and could use it to devastating effect.

When her husband offered no help beyond a mad grin, Daphne was forced to return her attention to her nephew.

“No, spawnling, I was only jesting.” She said hurriedly gathering the weeping seven year old into her arms. Dudley caught his wife's smile from across the room as they both elected to ignore John’s dramatics.

“Then you like me?” John sniffed from her lap, rubbing his nose on his sleeve.

Daphne winced and patted his arm awkwardly “You and your siblings have a certain, lowly charm about you. I may have grown... slightly attached to you, over the years.” She admitted reluctantly.

“An mm presents?” came the muffled voice from her lap.

“Harry shall buy you many mundane presents for you on your birthing day, as always.” She said, giving up entirely.

“Thank you aunty!” he said happily, nuzzling into her solder all tears mysteriously gone. Daphne sighed and shook her head, before levelling a menacing glare at her husband.

“Speaking of presents!” Harry exclaimed suddenly, looking down at his niece. “Jennie doll, could you be a dear and bring me my coat?”

“Kay!”

Jennie jumped off his knee and ran over to the armchair Dudley had let Harry’s coat on. She clumsily carried it over, almost unable to see over the fabric.

“Thanks kid.” Harry said, taking the coat and ruffling her hair, making her giggle. He reached inside the coat to a pocket and rummaged inside. His hand seemed to slip further in than the pocket would allow. Bigger on the inside? Dudley was glad his kids were too excited to pay attention.

“Aha!” His cousin exclaimed, as he suddenly held three small boxes in his hands.

“What are those, uncle?”

“Those, my dear Vernon, are your presents. Hand picked by me and your aunt.”

Daphne’s reply was a sniff as she looked to the side. Dudley knew that counted as agreement.

“First for Jennie.” Harry said as he offered a box to his niece.

“Yay!” The five year old tore into the gift wrapping like a hurricane, and was soon holding what Dudley recognized as a simple, but beautiful bracelet.

“It’s great, Uncle Harry!” She said, wrapping her tiny hands around his arm.

“Your aunt picked it out.”

“Hug me and lose a finger, littlest mongrel.” She threatened, having just got her lap freed.

Jennie giggled. “You’re funny, Aunty Dee. This is awesome. Thanks.”

A smile touched his cousin-in law’s lips. “You are welcome.”

“Hey Jennie, wanna know a secret?” Harry said, leaning closer to her and lowering his tone. Jennie’s breath hitched and she nodded furiously. “That bracelet, it’s actually magical.”

Her eyes widened. “It is?”

Dudley frowned at his cousin. What was Harry playing at?

His cousin nodded at his daughter, keeping a serious face. “You wanna know what it does?”

“Please tell me.”

“If you stay up really, really late and keep really, really quiet, the bracelet will speak to you. You wanna know what it will say?”

She nodded, slowly this time, refusing to blink as she waited with baited breath. Harry leaned in closer, in order to whisper in her ear. He waited a few seconds for dramatic effect.

“Go to sleep.”

Jennie giggled, giving Harry’s cheek a kiss before putting the bracelet on.

“And for you boys.” Harry said as he carelessly tossed the two remaining boxes at his nephews, who fumbled to catch them.

“What are those?”

“Those, dearest John, are wristwatches.”

The opened them and stared at two handsome watches. The straps were leather and the faces were clear, and Dudley could see the brass gears turning beneath the hands. Vernon looked to Dudley, who nodded encouragingly, so the kid put it on. Dudley opened his mouth to tell them to be careful because they looked expensive. Then he looked at his cousin and closed it again. He somehow doubted that those watches would ever scratch or break, whatever the boys did to them.

“Thanks, Uncle Harry.”

“Trust me boys, keep those watches on. They won’t be bothered by water, they look very stylish, and girls love them. Oh, they also tell time.” Harry told them with a wink.

Dudley gave his cousin a look and locked eyes with him. Harry’s face turned serious, if only for a second, and he gave him a nod. Dudley’s suspicion was confirmed. He didn’t know what Harry had done to the watches and the bracelet, but whatever it was he knew that he should be grateful for it.

“Everyone,” Moira called from further inside, “You can come in, everything is ready.”

They moved to the dining room, where Harry and Daphne gave the appropriate compliments and they began to eat. Daphne would make the occasional strange proclamation, but other than that conversation was positive and friendly.

Right after dinner, they moved back to the living room where the adults opened the wine bottle and the kids enjoyed a round of ice cream.

Not long after that, Dudley was sitting next to his wife, watching his cousin entertain his kids. Even Vernon, who’d been in a ‘I’m not a little kid!’ phase lately, was paying close attention and laughing at his uncle’s tricks. Daphne was sitting next to them, answering the occasional question from the kids and otherwise just slowly drinking her wine.

Dudley heard his wife gasp as Harry started pulling a long scarf seemingly from thin air next to John’s head, before she chuckled.

“Your cousin’s a very good magician.” She complimented. “I have no idea how he did that.”

Dudley wet his lips. “Err, yeah. He’s very good.”

“Has he explained to you how he does it? Is it the long sleeves?”

Dudley shrugged. He always had trouble lying to his wife. “Maybe. It’s a good idea. He’s only told me a few things.” Technically true.

“Tell me one of them?”

“Eh? Oh. Well, it’s a secret. I’m not supposed to tell.” Also true.

“That’s a shame.”

They watched for a while longer.

“He’s very good with kids. I wouldn’t be surprised if they thought he could really do magic.”

Dudley kept silent, instead choosing to sip from his wine again. His cousin-in-law’s not so secret smirk did not help matters.

Time flew fast, and soon the Potters were rising and gathering their coats.

“Can’t you stay a little longer uncle Harry, aunt Dee?” Jennie pleaded, eyes moist.

“Now now, little princess, don’t cry. You know I’ll be here if you really need me. Besides, we’ll visit again soon. Right, love?”

Jennie’s teary eyes turned to Daphne, who stared back for half a minute before scowling.

“You are the only muggles I find tolerable. If we’re to visit anyone, it will be you.”

“You’re the best, aunty Dee!” Despite Daphne’s sputtering, she returned Jennie’s hug with minimal fuss.

“See ya later, uncle Harry.”

“Bye kid. And remember, no matter how old you get, never lose your belief in magic. Magic is everywhere. All it takes is for someone to believe in it.”

Vernon chuckled, clearly disbelieving. “Sure thing, uncle.”

“Thanks for the food Moira, it was great as always. When will you ditch Dudley and teach Daphne how to cook?”

“Your humor is not appreciated, husband.”

Dudley’s wife smiled at their banter. “Sorry, Harry. You’ll have to do with miss Potter for the foreseeable future.”

“Alas, cruel fate. Well, goodnight.”

“Goodbye.”

The door closed behind the Potters, and Dudley was left staring at it. The kids left, trotting back to their respective rooms or bathroom.

Moira held his right arm in both of hers.

“Everything okay, honey?”

Dudley turned to look at her, taking in her worried but smiling face. He made up his mind.

“I gotta say something to Harry.” He said. “I’ll be right back.”

Dudley followed the Potters out the door and into the hallway.

“Harry!” He called out, hoping that they hadn’t left already. Luck was smiling on him, as they had just reached the elevator down the hallway. The turned to the sound of his voice as he jogged towards them and came to a stop in front of them.

“What’s up, Dud?”

Now that he was here, looking at Harry’s smiling, patient look, he wasn’t sure exactly what to say. He cleared his throat, trying to put his thoughts in order, and didn’t say anything for a few seconds.

“Can I … have a word?”

Harry raised a curious eyebrow, but didn’t refuse. He turned to Daphne.

“Love?”

“Don’t expect me to wait for you.” She warned. “I won’t sit around in that metal prison, waiting, only to be subjected to the same torture as when we came. I’m apparating home.”

“You’re the best.”

“I know that, stupid.”

Daphne entered the elevator, and the doors hadn’t quite closed before Dudley saw his cousin-in-law’s form disappear from inside and heard the slight pop that he often associated with Harry’s sudden appearances and disappearances. Such an overt display of magic jolted him, bringing his concern to the forefront of his mind once again.

“What is it, big guy?” His cousin asked.

Still, Dudley did not know where to begin.

“Maybe we should sit?” Harry suggested. At his nod, they both sat on the stairs next to the elevator. Not the most comfortable, but they’ll do.

“Here.” Dudley looked up, and saw a bottle of freezing beer being offered at him. “I find that it helps loosen the tongue.”

“Thanks.” He said as he accepted the bottle and popped it open.

“Don’t thank me, it’s from your fridge.”

“Oh.”

He took a swing, and decided to start from the easy stuff.

“What’d you do to the bracelet and the watches?”

“They’re just good luck charms.”

“No, seriously.”

Harry smiled. “I am serious.”

“Ah.” So magic could also affect such things as luck itself? How did that even work? Dudley shook his head. He’d never be able to understand such things.

“Out with it, man. This isn’t like you.”

“Do you think … I mean, is it possible that my children could be, y’know…”

“Smart? Bratty? Cute?”

“Like you.”

Harry looked at him quizzically for a second, before his eyes widened slightly. “Oh”. He said. “Like me.”

“Yeah.”

“You think your children are magical?”

“No!” Dudley exclaimed, louder than he’d meant to. He shook his head. “Sorry. I’m just asking. Could they?”

“Well …” Harry took to rubbing his chin. “I guess the possibility is there. Their grandmother was a witch, after all.”

“Oh.”

“Dudley, are your kids magical?”

“I … don’t know.”

“Who? All of them?”

“Just … just Jennifer.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “You’ve seen Jennie do magic?”

“Not as such. But … sometimes, I dunno. I have my suspicions. Sometimes I think something she did doesn’t make sense, or she will look guilty about something that she couldn’t possibly have done. She kind of reminds of you from back then, actually.”

“Have you told Moira?”

He shook his head. “No. She doesn’t know, and she won’t until I’m certain.”

“So that’s how it is.”

“What do I do, Harry?”

Harry tilted his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“How am I supposed to deal with this? What if … what if she does turn out to be a witch?”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Dudley let out a noise of frustration from the back of his throat.

“I don’t know. It definitely complicates things.”

“How?”

“Are you seriously asking that? I don’t want to lose her, Harry.”

He frowned. “Who said anything about losing her?”

“Look at what happened with your mum and mine. I don’t want that for my kids.”

“They don’t have to go down that road, Dud. You’ll know and prevent it.”

“What if I can’t? What if they end up hating each other just because one of them was born different? What about Jennie herself?”

“What about her?”

“She’d have to go to this Hogplace, wouldn’t she?”

“Hogwarts. Yeah, I suppose.”

“If even half of the shit you’ve told me about your school is true, I don’t want her anywhere near that place.”

Harry let out a nervous laugh. “I guess you haven’t heard a lot of good things, have you? Those were extreme circumstances, very much unlikely to happen ever again. Hogwarts is the best school of magic in Europe, if not the world. The teachers are some of the best practitioners and most responsible people you can find. Trust me.”

“I don’t know Harry. When I think of all the things that happened to you over the years, it scares me. I can’t help her if she goes there. Hell, I won’t even be able to understand her.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Dudley challenged. “You can’t see it Harry, but from our perspective, your world seems very scary. We know nothing about it. What about that normal friend of yours, the Granger girl? How’d her parents deal with the whole mess you guys were part in?”

Harry wasn’t able to hide his wince. “Point.”

“I just … I don’t know what to think. I know that you guys aren’t that bad. You told me the bad times were over years ago. But I don’t like this, Harry, I don’t like any of this.”

There weren’t many ways Dudley could convey his feelings on the situation. If Jennie proved to be magical … he didn’t know what he’d do. All his examples of magicals born to normals were not very good. Dudley’s own aunt, Harry’s mother, had been estranged from her family and ended up hated by her sister. Not to mention her untimely death. And Harry … the less said about Harry, the better.

He didn’t want his family broken apart. He didn’t want his daughter to feel more and more estranged from her own family because she was becoming more and more integrated into a world and society they knew nothing about.

And then there was the fact that Jennie herself would probably face a lot of hardship.

“What about the whole prejudice business?” He asked.

“You mean blood purity?”

“Is that it was called? Yeah, what about that?”

Harry scratched his chin in thought. “There’s not too much of that nowadays. It’s very hard to change traditions aging back centuries, but we’re giving it a decent shot.”

“Are you really? What about your wife?”

“You know she loves your kids. She means no harm, it’s just the way she was raised.”

Dudley nodded. “Which is my point, isn’t it? If even Daphne, who loves my kids, talks like this, what will happen to Jennie when she meets other, less friendly people? She doesn’t know what any of what Daphne is saying means now, but she will eventually find out. What then?”

Harry leaned back on the stairs, finishing off his beer.

“You know, I’d never thought of it like that.” He admitted. “I didn’t think Daphne’s attitude was troubling you. You never said anything all these years. Daphne is … a complicated person. Part of her does believe in blood purity, but it’s not the same ideology that was driving the Death Eaters. She doesn’t view you as lesser. I’m not sure how to explain it, really. You’ll just have to trust me. I’ll have a talk with Daphne.”

“Please don’t. The kids like her and find her funny. That’s not the point here.”

“I see where you’re coming from, Big D. I really do. You know, years later, it’s been getting easier and easier to understand just how scared your parents were. I may not forgive them, but I don’t hate them. Your fears are not unfounded.”

He paused, probably taking stock of his thoughts.

“I won’t be able to help her, Harry.” Dudley admitted, revealing his greatest fear. At his cousin’s look, he continued. “Ever since me and Moira had Vernon, I’ve tried my best, you know? I tried to be a better person for them, to make sure they’d be safe and have the happy childhood I did without the problems I created. I think I’ve done well so far, even with John and Jennie. But if it’s like this, if Jennie is a witch … she’ll be alone. Moira and I will do what we can to support her but she’ll be alone. As we are now, our family is united, normal, happy. And you are the uncle who spoils them. Why does that have to change? Why do my sons have to grow up in envy for something none of them can control? Why does she have to go to such a scary place alone?”

Harry didn’t say anything for some time, laying there on the uncomfortable steps in silence.

“If Jennie is magical .. it’s her birthright, you know? She needs to learn to control her powers, she needs to be with people who face the same troubles and experience the same joys. It’s your choice, but I guarantee you that if you choose to not tell her, to not send her to any magical school, Jennie will never be all that she could be. She will never reach her full potential, never fully grow as a person. To not explore her magical heritage would be a crime against her. Do you want that on your conscience?”

Dudley did not reply. He said nothing, instead finishing his own beer and putting his face in his hands. Some minutes later, he was considering getting up and heading back inside when his cousin spoke again.

“She won’t be alone, you know.”

“Huh?”

Harry turned to him, giving him a smile. “She won’t be alone. If Jennie is a witch, even if you can’t be there for her all the time, she won’t be alone. She’ll meet people and make friends. She’ll have her professors. She’ll have Lily to talk to. James should start Hogwarts not long after Jennie does. I’m sure Sirius would love nothing more than to play the cool older brother, even if he’ll have graduated by then.”

Despite himself, Dudley smiled.

“And she’ll have me.” Harry added. “Me and Daphne both. We’ll look out for her when you won’t be able to.”

That … actually made him feel much better. It was like a weight was lifted off of Dudley’s chest and he could breathe freely. He hadn’t realized exactly how much he’d been worrying until he overcame some of it.

“You guys will?”

“Of course. We both love Jennie like we love our own kids. Nothing bad will happen to her, you have my word.”


“But you’re a ministry employee, aren’t you? Important in the government and all that?”

“I guess so.” An understatement, Dudley was sure. After all these years, he could read his cousin like an open book.

“I know how busy you are, Harry. At least, I know what you’ve told me. How will you be able to keep an eye on her and keep the Ministry in order?”

Harry’s reply was late, but when it came it caught Dudley completely by surprise.

“They want me to be Minister, did you know?”

“Minister? You?” Dudley asked, unable to mask his disbelief. His cousin, in the greatest position of power in Britain? Seriously?

Harry let out a barking laugh. “I know! Crazy, right? Still, everybody expects me to step up when Kingsley steps down. Hell, even Kingsley himself. I’ve sort of been going along in the last few years. I mean, why not? If everyone wants me for the job, I might as well try, right?”

“That’s … brilliant! Congratulations.”

“Yeah yeah, brilliant.” Harry nodded along, though without emotion.

“It’s … not?” Dudley tried.

“I don’t know, Dudley. I’ve sort of prepared myself for the job, but I never really wanted it. Being a politician was never my dream.”

Dudley snorted. At Harry’s questioning look, he said: “Don’t give me that shit. You’ve been thrust in situations you didn’t want all your life. All you have to make of this one is the same as what you made the others.”

“And what’s that?”

“Your bitch, cousin. You make them your bitch.”

Harry just stared at him incredulously for a moment, before bursting into laughter. Dudley himself followed with a few chuckles.

“I haven’t heard you curse in years. You really had me thinking that the old Big D was gone, big guy.”

Dudley smiled, as well. “I’ll always be Big D. I’m just a father and a husband before that.”

“Well spoken. I’d drink to that, but there’s no more beer in your fridge.”

Dudley shook his head. Who could have guessed that one day he’d be the one to return Harry on the matter at hand, but it was happening.

“Still, won’t you be even busier once you’re Minister?”

“Hm? Oh, I won’t be Minister.”

Dudley blinked once, twice. Three times.

“But you just said-”

“I said that everybody expects me to, and that I was considering it. I changed my mind.”

“When?”

“A couple years ago.”

“So what will you do?”

“My dream.”

“Which is?”

“Well, I’ve always been fond of teaching.”

“You’re going to not be the Minister to become a teacher?”

“A professor actually, but yeah, more or less.”

“Are you daft?”

Harry chuckled. “Hey, don’t think I’m aiming low. I like teaching, but I’ve set my sights on another position. I’m going to become Headmaster.”

“Headmaster … like that whacky Bumble fellow?”

Harry laughed. “Dumbledore, you mean? Yeah, him. He was my old Headmaster. He taught me a lot, in many ways. I’ve always admired him and his passion for the school. I thought, if I could be half the man he was and do half of what he did for the school, I’d be able to die in peace, you know?”

“That’s a morbid thought.”

“I guess so. Death is going to come, however, whether I fear it or not. I try to think of my life as the sum of my actions, such that when I finally pass I’ll be able to be proud of my life up to that time.”

“That sounds a little too philosophical for me.” Dudley said, letting out a sigh. Now wasn’t the time for mental exercises.

“I guess. The point is, by the time Jennie reaches Hogwarts age, I’ll be there.”

“You’d do this for us? For Jennie?”

He nodded. “For my own kids, for Jennie, and for all the Jennies out there, sure.”

“So,” Harry continued after a short pause, “so don’t go thinking Jennie will be alone. Or that you won’t be a part of her life anymore. I won’t let that happen.”

And Dudley could see it, if only for a little bit. That spark in his cousin. The spark that led him to stand up to Dudley’s parents, the spark that made him into the leader and eventual champion of their war. The spark that made people believe in him. Harry Potter was a great man, and he was Dudley’s cousin. Perhaps this was what it felt like to have a brother.

It was at that time that Harry chose to chuckle nervously and rub the back of his head in embarrassment. Dudley refrained from palming his face.

“But, you know, all that is hypothetical. First we’d have to see if Jennie is indeed magical.”

“How can we do that?”

“There are some things I could try in my next visit, if you really wanted. But Jennie is still very young. If she really is magical it will become obvious to you long before she’s due for a Hogwarts letter.”

“All the same, I’d like to know.”

“Right. We’ll set something up, then.”

“Thank you for this, Harry. Really.”

“Don’t mention it Big D.” Harry rose from the stairs, painfully cracking his back from the uncomfortable position he was in. “Okay, that hurt.”

“You should probably go, yeah? We’ve been out here a while. Don’t wanna make Missus Potter any angrier.”

“You’d be surprised at how effective anger can be for a couple’s sex life.”

“Please, spare me the disgusting details.”

“Whatever,” Harry waved him away as he summoned the elevator, before turning to him and offering him his hand.

“See ya later, Big D.” He said while they shook. “Until next time, yeah?”

Dudley smiled. “Until next time.”

As he turned back towards the apartment and the elevator doors closed, he could’ve sworn he heard Harry say: “I hope she lets me name this one Albus”.

“You are seriously weird, cousin.”

FIN​