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Godric's Hollow was all but deserted when the nondescript black car stopped in front of the homely, timber-framed house with its sprawling, but somewhat wild, garden. No such garden, or house, would ever be tolerated by the prim and proper population of Little Whinging, but here, it barely differed from other houses, yet each one different from the other.
The lights in the house were off and it was eerily silent when Dudley Dursley opened the car door, stepped out and double-checked the address.
Forest Lane, number 7.
"Dudley," Sammy said, voice low and trembling, and climbed out of the car. "Where are we? What are we doing here?"
"My cousin's place," Dudley said.
"Your cousin?," Sammy hissed and stalked towards him. "Dudley, if you think I am going to take even one more step until you tell me what's going on–"
"Bloody hell, I'll explain! He will explain," Dudley cut in, irritated with exhaustion and stress that had wreaked havoc on his nervous system since their hectic departure from Little Whinging among his mum's horrified screams, Dad's roars as he ascended into the air and Sammy and Bryony's shrieking. "Get Bree, will you?"
His wife, lips pinched together in angry confusion, went to lift their sleeping daughter into her arms and knocked the car door shut with her hip while Dudley walked up to the garden gate, looking for a doorbell.
There was no name sign, let alone a button to ring. Not even a mechanical bell that could have been magicked or whatever Harry's sort did.
Dudley grabbed the latch on the gate and found it was unlocked. Not even a padlock. The lack of security was surprising, given the hassle of Harry's teenage years, especially that last summer when he had turned seventeen.
Dudley opened the gate and stepped onto the gravel path leading to the house's front door. Nothing happened. No alarm, no lightning bolts or sparkles or magical beasts coming to tackle him.
He checked his phone for the contact data again. 7 Forest Lane, Godric's Hollow, Somerset. He cross-referenced his location on Google Maps. 7 Forest Lane, Godric's Hollow, Somerset. They were in the right place.
"Dudley!," Sammy called as loud as she dared without waking Bryony but when she tried to take another step, she hit an invisible barrier. Confused, she tried again, and again, but every time, it was like the property was wrapped in a bubble keeping her out. "What–"
Dudley turned around and walked out of the gate again. No issue. He walked back towards the gate, expecting to hit the same barrier, but he passed through whatever was keeping out Sammy just fine.
"Wait a sec," he told her and reached for their daughter, "I'll–"
Sammy clutched Bryony tighter, dark eyes wide with fear and anger and confusion, like a cornered animal.
"No," she said. "Not until you tell me what's going on."
Dudley was tired and tense and he wanted to clear this up, and quickly. It was almost four in the morning and he had just driven them almost three hours from Surrey to Somerset without a break.
"When my cousin was thirteen, he did to my Aunt Marge what Bree just did to my dad."
Sammy teared up. "That's impossible. You're mad. You're proper mad!"
Dudley did not have the patience for this. "Sammy, for Christ's sake, just–will you give me Bree? Please?!"
Sammy reluctantly handed the sleeping girl over to her father, eyes almost bugging out of her head when Bryony passed through the barrier just fine. "How–"
The door to the house opened and Dudley winced when a bright light shone into the garden.
Not a flashlight.
A wooden stick, no longer than twelve inches, with a glowing light at its tip. And holding that staff was a woman Dudley only knew from Christmas cards. Ginger, freckled, wiry.
"Morgana's tits," Ginny Potter said with wide eyes and lowered her wand slightly. "You're the Dursleys."
"Yeah," Dudley said and gestured behind himself. "Look, my wife can't–"
"Oh." Ginny slipped a pair of clogs on and shuffled down the gravel path, wand raised. "I'll get that. I, Ginevra Molly Potter, grant entrance to..."
She trailed off, brows furrowed in an unspoken question.
"Samantha Adedayo Dursley," Sammy said, voice weak and gaze fixated on the glowing wand.
"...to Samantha Adedayo Dursley," Ginny finished and now the tip of her wand glowed in a soft purple hue. "Exceptio Domicilium."
And suddenly, Sammy could pass through the barrier.
"It's a ward. Lumos," Ginny explained and the tip of her wand lit up again. "It only lets those related by blood to the inhabitants onto the property and past the concealing spells. The press was on our arses when we first moved here... we included exceptions for my brothers' partners and our closest family friends but to be fair, we never expected your family to show up here."
Sammy only stared, eyes flickering from Ginny's face, to her glowing wand, to the gate she had not been able to go through only seconds earlier.
"Gin?"
A male voice came from the doorway and Dudley turned, coming face to face for the first time in over seven years, with Harry Potter. His hair was just as messy as when they were teenagers, even worse now with it sleep-tousled, round glasses askew on his nose and wearing plaid pyjama pants and a white t-shirt, wand in hand.
The moment he recognised who was in his front garden would have been comical if the entire situation weren't so messed up.
"Dudley," Harry said, eyes as wide as saucers. "What the hell–"
"Hey," Dudley said lamely. "Been a while. It's urgent. Can we come in?"
Harry blinked and lowered his wand, stepping aside to make room. "I'll, uh, get the kettle on."
Dudley, still carrying Bryony, and Sammy followed Harry and his wife into the house. It was clearly old, nothing like the suburban uniformity of Little Whinging or the pragmatic buildings squeezed into Brixton.
"Where can I–?," Dudley started and nodded to his sleeping child still in his arms that were starting to get tired. Bryony was five and fast asleep, dead weight in his grip.
"Right, put her here," Ginny said and directed him to a big, plush armchair, more than large enough for Bryony to lay on sideways.
Dudley grunted as he knelt to place her on the armchair and held his breath when she made a small sound.
She settled down again and nuzzled into one of the pillows, unaware of the mess she had kicked off.
But they were here. At Harry's home. And he was the only one Dudley could ask about this.
"So," Ginny said. Behind her, Harry shuffled into the living room where Dudley and Sammy now sat on a plush red sofa, a tray carrying four cups and a tea pot levitating in front of him. Sammy watched in horror as the tray landed on the coffee table and the teapot started evenly pouring out tea by itself. "To what do we owe the surprise visit?"
"Didn't know your phone number," Dudley said and accepted the cup Harry offered him. "Only had your address."
"Yeah," Harry said slowly, eyes still bleary with sleep. "But at four in the morning? We have little kids, you know."
Sammy clutched her cuppa like it was her lifeline.
"We're so sorry," she said, voice trembling and Dudley reached out to wrap an arm around her shoulder but she leaned away. He swallowed and pulled his arm back. "It's... we didn't know what to do. Dudley said... you'd explain."
Harry frowned and Ginny didn't seem any less confused either.
"Explain?," Harry repeated. "Sorry, it's the middle of the night, I'm not catching on."
Dudley gestured at the little girl asleep in the armchair where he had placed her only a few minutes ago.
"Bryony," he started, "is one of your sort. I think."
Harry's eyes widened and he exchanged a wordless look with his wife. It was not alarmed, or worried, as far as Dudley could tell and just this fact already made the weight on his shoulders lighten.
"And I don't know what you mean by that", Sammy said, voice trembling with anger now. "We sped through half of England for three hours in the middle of the night, to visit a cousin you haven't seen in a decade–!"
"Look, Samantha, Dudley's right, I can explain in a second," Harry cut in, not unkindly, and Sammy and Dudley both jumped at the use of her full name. But how was Harry supposed to know? They put their full names on their Christmas cards, not their nicknames. "Dudley, what makes you say that?"
Sammy trembled and looked as if she wanted to argue, but pinched her lips together instead, pointedly staring into her cup.
Dudley's own tea was going cold in his hands. "She, uhm. She blew up dad."
Harry stared. Dudley stared back, neck burning.
"Is that an inside joke?," Ginny asked, glancing between the two of them. "Blew him up? What, in an explosion?"
"No," Harry, Dudley and Sammy said at the same time. Ginny blinked.
"That's scary," she mumbled and sipped at her own tea.
"I blew up Aunt Marge the summer before my third year," Harry said. "She pissed me off and just... swelled up like a balloon."
"And flew away," Dudley added, remembering Dad hanging onto Aunt Marge and Ripper tearing into Dad's leg.
Harry clearly bit back a smirk and cleared his throat. "Uh. Yes. So, did Uncle Vernon fly away?"
The corners of his mouth twitched, clearly fighting against laughter, and somehow, Dudley wanted to join, half-hysterical that this was a bonding moment for them.
"How can you all joke about this?," Sammy hissed, eyes wet. "She–she–"
"It's really not that uncommon," Harry quickly reassured. "And it's not like Uncle Vernon hasn't seen it befo–"
Ginny elbowed him.
"Anyway," Harry said. "The Ministry will dispatch someone to get Uncle Vernon down from wherever he's floated to, bring him back to normal size–"
"Not like there's going to be much of a difference," Ginny muttered under her breath.
"Ministry?!," Sammy asked, voice shrill. "What on earth is going on here?! My daughter blew up her grandfather, it's the middle of the night, all of you are behaving like it's the most normal thing–"
"Sammy," Dudley started but Sammy sobbed, loud, and pressed a hand to her mouth.
Bryony stirred where they had laid her down in her sleep.
"Oh, bollocks," Dudley said and glanced from his sobbing wife to his fussing child.
"Sammy, isn't it?," Ginny spoke up and stood to offer Sammy a hand. "Why don't we talk in the garden? I'll fill you in."
Sammy, still sobbing, nodded and followed her out. Bryony meanwhile was full-on whining and Dudley heaved himself up to gather the five year old into his arms.
"Want Mummy," Bryony whined.
"She'll be here in a jiffy," Dudley said and patted her back in hopes of her settling again. Thanks to some miracle, she drifted off into slumber again, mouth open against his shirt and drooling.
"How're you holding up with the revelation, Dud?," Harry asked, watching the scene with an odd look.
Dudley shrugged as well as he could with a child plastered to his front. "Reckon I've always had a hunch. Seems like the kind of thing to skip a generation, doesn't it?"
"Well," Harry said awkwardly. "I wouldn't know. But yeah."
He collected himself. "Has any of this happened before? Accidental magic?"
Dudley glanced down at his little daughter. "Maybe. She can hold her breath the longest in swimming class. Longer than should be normal. Somehow she always gets the biscuits even if Sammy and I put them way out of her reach. Never seen her do anything like this before."
"Let me guess," Harry said, "Uncle Vernon pissed her off?"
Dudley grimaced. "Yeah. Mouthed off about her best friend." He paused and added: "Jahnavi. Her friend's name."
"Ah." Harry understood. "Same old racist Uncle Vernon, huh."
Dudley shrugged. He'd taken a step back in his relationship with his parents when he first started dating Sammy, a Black girl. Little Whinging was a violently white neighbourhood and Dudley's parents had not made a big secret out of their dislike for Sammy's ethnicity.
Which was the reason Bryony only saw her paternal grandparents about four times a year when Dudley couldn't ward off Mum's cries over never seeing her granddaughter anymore.
They disliked having a mixed race granddaughter but Bryony had the advantage of being half Dudley. Whenever they visited, Dudley's parents doted on Bryony but barely spared Sammy a glance, one of the reasons they saw them little and less these days.
Well. Given this most recent revelation, they'd probably only see them for Easter and Christmas. If even. Mum had all but fainted when Dad had floated up to the ceiling, shouting and swearing, their darling grandbaby staring at him all but fuming.
There were footsteps and then a small boy peered into the living room and Dudley had to do a double-take.
It was as if he was looking at his five year old cousin again, without the scar, but identical otherwise.
"Al," Harry said gently. "Shouldn't you be sleeping?"
"Heard voices," the little boy – the middle one, Albus, if Dudley remembered correctly – murmured. He was wearing light blue pyjamas with small dragons printed onto them and Dudley thought of Bryony's favourite book about a little dragon who wanted to be a firefighter.
"It's just cousin Dudley," Harry said. "He was in the area and wanted to stop by. C'mon, let's put you back to bed."
But Albus had fixated on the girl sleeping on Dudley's chest. "Who is that?"
Harry took his little son's hand. "That's your cousin Bryony. She'll be in your Hogwarts year. Isn't that exciting?"
Albus shrugged and yawned, too tired to dig further. "I guess."
"Say goodnight, then, Al."
Albus gave a wave. "G'night."
Dudley gave an awkward smile. "Night."
Harry took Albus back upstairs and Sammy and Ginny returned. Sammy's eyes were puffy and red-rimmed, but she was no longer crying.
"–and we can take you to Diagon Alley to get Bryony's school things when it's time," Ginny finished. "Albus is her year, and so is my brother's eldest. Don't worry. You have family in all this."
She glowered at Dudley at the last part and Dudley shrank in on himself. Ginny and Harry knew each other since they were eleven years old. And Dudley had not exactly covered himself with glory during their teenage years, of which she surely knew.
"Thanks," he muttered.
"Where's Harry?," Ginny asked and Dudley's abandoned tea cup started steaming again with a wave of her wand. Sammy jumped at the display but she did not start crying again.
"Albus woke up," Dudley said.
"Ears of a Werewolf, that one," Ginny muttered and summoned another cup of tea for Sammy and herself.
Sammy twitched when the cup levitated towards her, but she plucked it out of the air carefully.
"How do we–," she said and cleared her throat when her voice came out hoarse. "How do we teach her? To control it, I mean. She's got school. What if she... blows up an annoying teacher?"
"That's unlikely," Ginny said.
Dudley was unconvinced. He remembered Harry suddenly appearing on top of the school roof after he and his posse had chased him, and of course the vanishing glass at the zoo.
Ginny seemed to notice his hesitancy. "I grew up with six wizard brothers and I'm raising three magical children right now. Trust me. This was an impressive outburst for a young witch–"
Sammy twitched.
"–but not one she will repeat anytime soon," Ginny went on. "And even if, the Ministry has a whole department dedicated to altering uninvolved Muggle minds after witnessing magic."
"The Status of Secrecy," Sammy said quietly. Dudley remembered the term. The letter from the Ministry Harry had received in the summer they turned fifteen had accused him of breaking it. "Right?"
"Statute," Ginny corrected. "But, yes."
Bryony whined in her sleep and Dudley closed an arm around her on instinct. Sammy reached out to pet their daughter's hair, expression softening.
"She will miss her friends terribly," she said.
Ginny gave an understanding smile. "Yeah. But she will make new ones. Aren't all Muggle kids changing schools at that age?"
Dudley and Sammy nodded.
The stairs creaked and Harry came back into the living room, blinking blearily.
"Sorry," he muttered, more to Ginny than to them. "Almost fell asleep with Al."
"Oh," Sammy said and quickly put her cup down. "We're so sorry to intrude, we'll get going–"
"Rubbish," Ginny said and glanced at the large clock on the wall.
Dudley followed her line of sight and did a double-take. It was a regular clock at first glance, but looking at it more closely, there was an outer ring engraved with "home" "work", "on the way", "school", "hospital" and, curiously, "mortal peril". The clock had five additional hands, long and golden, engraved with names. Harry, Ginny, James, Albus, Lily. All of them pointed at "home".
"It's the middle of the night and Bryony is clearly exhausted," Ginny said. "If you don't mind the guest room, we'll make it up for you."
Dudley and Sammy exchanged a brief look. It was a four hour drive back home to Brixton and neither of them had slept a wink as of yet.
Dudley glanced at Harry. His cousin didn't seem reluctant to the idea, he mostly looked tired, suppressing yawn after yawn.
"If it's alright with you," he said slowly, the question directed at Harry.
Harry took off his glasses and rubbed one eye. "Sure. Stay. The kids are going to be excited to meet a relative that's not ginger, I reckon."
Ginny elbowed him, but grinned. "George's and Bill's kids aren't ginger, Harry, and Hugo isn't either."
"Oh, yeah," Harry murmured and stood, scratching his head with the back of his wand, the piece of wood sparking blue. "Alright. You need pyjamas or–?"
Dudley doubted Harry had anything that would fit him but they had planned to spend the weekend in Little Whinging anyway and had their luggage in the car.
"No, we've got stuff from the weekend at Mum and Dad's. I'll get our things," Dudley said and Sammy carefully lifted Bryony off him. They held their breath for a moment but she only stirred briefly before snoozing on.
Ginny led Sammy to the guest room and Harry shuffled outside, slipping on a pair of ruddy old trainers, to help with the luggage.
"How'd Aunt Petunia take it?," Harry asked while Dudley heaved the suitcase out of the boot of the car.
"Almost fainted," Dudley grunted. "But too worried about Dad flying off to focus on it too much at the time. I just packed Sammy and Bree up and drove straight here."
Harry huffed. "Sounds like a fun drive."
Dudley winced and locked the car. Sammy had cried and screamed the entire first hour, demanding answers, Bryony had wailed at the top of her lungs until she was so exhausted she'd fallen asleep. The second hour, Sammy had stared ahead, mumbling to herself and not reacting to any of Dudley's questions. And the third hour, she had bombarded him with questions of her own, threatened to call her parents, the police.
"Yeah," he muttered and waved Harry off when he pulled out his wand to presumably let the suitcase float inside. "I got this."
Harry pocketed his wand again. "Alright, Big D."
Dudley snorted at the nickname and Harry hid a grin as well.
"Hey," Dudley said once they were back inside. "You're a teacher at the school, aren't you?"
Harry nodded, brows raised in surprise. "Yeah. Didn't think you'd remember."
It had been on a Christmas card a year or three ago. Prior to the Dursleys' spontaneous visit to Godric's Hollow, it had been the only communication between Dudley and Harry aside from a letter on each other's birthdays to check in if the other was still alive.
Dudley had not seen Harry in a year when his cousin had shown up at the safehouse they had been taken to in July 1997. Harry had looked terribly exhausted, ragged and years older, but Mum and Dad had only cared about getting back to their regular life in Little Whinging.
Dudley had written to Harry a few weeks later when Hestia Jones, one of the witches that had kept them safe, checked in on him. He'd given her the letter and not long after, an owl – not the white snowy owl that had always made a ruckus back at 4 Privet Drive – delivered a reply.
They hadn't become friends or anything. But Dudley had been invited to Harry's wedding, Harry had been invited to Dudley's, they had sent letters when their children had been born and otherwise reached out about once every three months.
They walked back into the house silently and Harry showed him the way to the guest room where Sammy was currently lowering Bryony onto the middle of a large bed.
"Bathroom's across the hall," Harry said. "Mirror's charmed to compliment you, just as a warning."
Sammy nodded slowly, seemingly too tired to be surprised anymore.
"Alright," Ginny said and checked her wristwatch. "Kids are going to be up in a few hours. Catch up on some sleep while you can."
And with that, the Potters left and trudged back upstairs.
They washed up, briefly jumping at the mirror complimenting them, and changed into sleepwear. Sammy, despite the stress of the evening, still detangled her coily hair with her fingers and twisted it before putting on her silk bonnet and securing it with a tie.
With the adrenaline ebbing off, Dudley had barely managed to brush his teeth without falling asleep.
"Maybe when we wake up, everything will be normal again," Sammy said softly when Dudley and she had crawled into bed, Bryony out cold between them.
Dudley thought of normal and how his parents had bent Harry over backwards to keep up the appearance of a perfectly normal family.
"S'is our new normal now, love," he murmured, voice slurred by sleep creeping in on him.
Sammy sighed and edged forward to press a kiss to the top of Bryony's head. "I know."
"Mummy!! Daddy!!," a girl shrieked. "Strangers!!"
Dudley sat up so abruptly, he almost fell off the bed. He'd subconsciously scooted closer to the edge so as to not squash Bryony.
Bryony and Sammy stirred beside him, mumbling sleepily.
It took Dudley a minute to gather his thoughts – he was in Godric's Hollow, at Harry's place, Bryony had blown up Dad yesterday and thus proven she was a... witch.
The shriek had come from a girl in the doorway that could not be older than three. She was in pyjamas, with a head of short ginger hair, freckles and wide brown eyes behind black-framed eyeglasses, clutching a stuffy that looked like a pegasus with a beak.
This must be the daughter, then. Lily. Named after the aunt Dudley had never met.
"Uh," Dudley said. "Hi. I'm your dad's cousin."
Lily seemed unconvinced and ran out, shrieking for her parents at the top of her lungs. Dudley dropped back into the pillows and groaned.
"Dud?," Sammy murmured and winced as she opened her eyes. "Who's screaming?"
"Harry's girl," Dudley said and swung his legs out of bed to grab the toiletry bag. "Don't think she got the memo about visitors."
Sammy hummed and Dudley glanced over his shoulder to see Bryony, still half-asleep, snuggling against her mum's front. Sammy smiled and enveloped her in a hug. Dudley's chest warmed at the sight.
"Dud?," Sammy murmured and cracked an eye open at him. "Can we do right by her?"
Dudley watched Bryony, bonnet starting to slip down her forehead, nose scrunched up as she tried to stay asleep.
"We're not the first regular folks to have a magic kid, are we?," Dudley said. "We'll manage alright, I reckon."
He headed into the bathroom.
"Looking handsome, handsome!," the mirror called and Dudley gave it a flat glower.
Breakfast was an odd affair seeing as all three Potter children fell completely silent when Dudley and Sammy entered, each holding one of Bryony's hands.
"Who are you!," the oldest, a boy with messy ginger hair that stuck up in just about any direction, freckles and brown eyes, called.
James, Dudley remembered dimly from the Christmas cards. Named for Harry's dad.
"Don't point, Jim!," Ginny called.
Albus only stared at them, brows furrowed, and little Lily clutched James's arm.
"I already told you," Harry answered. "This is my cousin Dudley, his wife Sammy, and their daughter, Bryony. She's your cousin, too."
"But he looks nothing like you," James said, cleary unconvinced and Dudley could not fault him. Standing next to each other, Dudley and Harry shared no physical traits. Both of them favoured their fathers in terms of looks and the traits they had inherited from their mothers were ones the Evans sisters had not shared.
"Well, Al doesn't much look like Mum and you don't look much like me, do you? But we're still related," Harry said and James could not really refute that so the boy shrugged and sat.
"Go on, love, sit," Sammy said softly but Bryony clutched their hands tight.
"D'you want some eggs and toast, Bryony?," Harry called from the kitchen. "Dudley? Sammy?"
"Eggs are grand," Sammy called back and squeezed Bryony's hand again. "You'll need your hands to eat, love."
Bryony shook her head mutely and shrank in on herself when the attention of everyone in the room, except maybe Lily who sat on the counter as Harry cooked, was on her.
It was Albus who approached her, still wearing his dragon-print pyjamas and eerily resembling Harry at that age.
"Hi," Albus piped up and held out his hand. "I'm Al. I'm five. Jim is seven and Lily is three. How old are you?"
Bryony glanced up at Dudley as if asking for permission. Dudley gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile and Bryony let go of his hand to shake Albus's.
"I'm Bryony," she said. "I'm five, too."
"I like your hair," Albus said and pointed at the tight coils Dudley had put into four twists. He was no good at braids but he had finally gotten the hang of twists which he was tremendously proud of. "My cousins Freddie and Rox also have it."
Bryony seemed to perk up at that and glanced up to beam at her mother before looking back at Albus.
"Mummy braids it sometimes," Bryony said. "How many cousins do you have?"
Albus's face scrunched up at the question and he held up both hands, putting fingers down as he mouthed names. Dudley's brows climbed all the way up to his hairline as the boy just kept going.
"There's Victoire, and Dom, and Louis, he's my best friend," James called from where he was sitting and buttering his toast. "And Molly, and Lucy, and, and, Freddie and Rox–"
"–and Rose," Albus cut in, clearly miffed that he'd been interrupted.
"And Hugo!," Lily crowed from the counter.
"Nine," Albus announced proudly and frowned. "No, ten. If you're our cousin, too. And Daddy says you are."
Bryony beamed. "Cool."
Albus tugged at her wrist and they walked around the table, climbing into their respective seats.
"I did not expect that," Ginny muttered, arms akimbo as the two children snacked on fruit while James dug into his toast. "Al is usually shy around strangers. Jim is the outgoing one."
She jerked her head towards the oldest boy who had struck up a debate with little Lily who was trying to feed her beaked pegasus stuffy some of James's toast.
"I told him Bryony would be in his Hogwarts year and that she's his cousin last night," Harry said and deposited two truly massive plates of eggs and bacon on the table, much to the children's delight. He batted James's curious hand away without looking. "He's had a full night to warm up to the thought. Here, help yourselves."
"When did you realise your children were m-magical?," Sammy asked when they had all taken their seats and served their respective kids.
Harry and Ginny exchanged a look and shrugged.
"To be honest, it never crossed our mind that they couldn't be," Ginny said. "Squibs are rare."
"Squibs?," Sammy asked.
"Non-magical children born to magical parents," Harry said. "The opposite of muggleborn witches and wizards, like Bryony. Hey, Dud, Mrs Figg was a Squib!"
Dudley almost choked on his bacon. "Mrs–Figg?!"
"Who's Mrs Figg?," Sammy asked.
"Some old cat lady in Little Whinging," Dudley said. "Used to look after Harry when–"
He paused and wanted to bite his cheek, hard. This false sense of domesticity, of family, had made him lose the careful choice of words he usually resorted to when speaking to Harry.
"–when you and your parents went to fancy or fun activities," Harry finished but it was not accusatory. He stated it matter of fact, but it still made his stomach clench. "You can say it the way it is."
Dudley really could not. He was not hungry anymore, all of a sudden. Sammy noticed the shift in his demeanour but did not mention it.
His neck was hot and his tongue almost as heavy in his mouth as the time he'd eaten that damn magical sweet as a teenager.
"Yeah," he managed to wrench out, shame coiling hot and rotten in his stomach.
He thought of any of Harry's kids. Albus, who looked so much like Harry at the age, Lily clutching her stuffy and James chattering away cheerfully.
Dudley imagined one of them coming to live with Sammy and Bryony and him. The thought of sticking that child into a cupboard, of doing even a semblance of what his parents had done, made his innards twist and roll.
Harry and Dudley had talked things out a few years ago. It had been an awkward, stilted and painful conversation, but a necessary one. Dudley had gotten to thank Harry for saving his life from the Dementors back then, even though Harry kept insisting he would not have died. He'd thanked him for ensuring they were safe and sound when he was seventeen, even though Harry had really had no reason to.
And he'd apologised.
That had been the hardest part. Not because Dudley was not sorry, he'd long since started recognising that treating Harry the way he had had been shameful. But confronting himself with every single instance of cruelty, every wrong he'd done to his cousin – that had been hard.
Even now, the shame and guilt hit him hard sometimes.
"And her house smelled like cabbage," Harry said, breaking the sudden ice.
Dudley could not help but snort. "Yeah."
"She was a member of the Order, Gin, did I tell you?," Harry went on, speaking to his wife now. "An Order member, next street down. The first member of the wizarding world I met and I didn't even know until I was fifteen."
"Wasn't she the witness at your trial?," Ginny asked and waved her wand, the coffee pot refilling itself, making Bryony and Sammy's eyes bug out of their heads.
"Yeah, she–"
"How did you do that!," Bryony called, eyes wide as saucers. "That was like magic!"
James gave her a look. "Duh! It is magic. Mum's a witch."
Bryony's jaw dropped. "Daddy, witches are real!"
Oh, boy.
In the entire mess of yesterday and the casual morning today, Dudley had entirely neglected to take his daughter aside and inform her that she was, in fact, a witch herself.
"Really?," Harry asked, flatly.
Dudley shrugged at him and turned back to Bryony, casting a look at Sammy that he hoped got his point of "help" across.
"See, uh, Bree," he started. "Remember what you did yesterday?"
Bryony's brows furrowed. "School?"
"No, not that. After."
"Homework?"
"After that, love."
Bryony scowled. "Listening to music?"
"Jesus, Dudley," Sammy muttered. "Bryony, love, you remember when you got angry at Grandpa Vernon yesterday?"
Bryony's scowl deepened. "He said mean things about Jahnavi."
"He did," Sammy said. "And then what happened?"
"He blew up like a balloon," she said and puffed out her cheeks. "Like so! It was scary. But a little funny."
"Right," Sammy said and took a deep breath. "Well. Alright then. So. Bryony. You, uhm, you did that. You made him blow up like a balloon."
Bryony was clearly unconvinced. "But I didn't have a balloon pump."
"Would you help me out?," Sammy hissed at Dudley.
"I don't know how to bloody do this either!," Dudley hissed back. "Only example I had, I ended up with a pig's tail on my arse!"
Sammy's eyes were wild. "What?!"
"Bryony," Ginny called and gave her a cheerful smile. "Hi. I'm Ginny. Albus's mum."
Bryony was clearly sceptical at the sudden introduction. "Uh. Hi?"
"You've never done this either," Harry murmured.
"How hard can it be?," Ginny said and turned back to Bryony. "You saw how I charmed the coffee pot back full, didn't you? I used magic to do it. Jim already said so, because I'm a witch. Look."
She took out her wand and levitated all the plates, causing James to complain loudly and Bryony's eyes to all but bug out of her head.
"And you, Bryony," Ginny said. "You're a witch, too."
Bryony stared and stared.
"But," she started. "I can't do that."
"Not yet," Ginny said kindly. "But you'll go to school when you're eleven and learn. Sometimes, when you're really angry or afraid or happy, you can do magic by accident."
"I burst a window!," James announced like it was something to be proud of. "And Al transfigured the brokkoli into dust."
Albus blushed. "I hate brokkoli."
"I've never turned brokkoli into dust," Bryony said. "Or burst a window."
"Yes, love," Sammy cut back in, mouthing a 'thank you' at Ginny. "But when Grandpa Vernon made you so angry yesterday, you made him blow up like a balloon."
Bryony seemed unconvinced. "No. I don't know how."
"Did you feel really angry?," Harry asked. "Like your stomach felt really hot? And then for a second, it was really calm? Only a buzz left?"
Bryony gaped. Dudley reckoned Harry had given her a scarily accurate description.
"How do you know," she breathed. "Are you magic too?"
Harry grinned. "Yeah. I'm a wizard. So are Lily and Jim and Al. And you know what, Bryony?"
He leaned over and stage-whispered: "I blew up your Great-aunt Marge like a balloon too because she was being mean."
Bryony gasped. "Really?!"
Harry nodded somberly. "Really."
Bryony looked around like she wanted to assure no one was going to overhear her and said: "Auntie Marge smells and her dogs are mean."
Sammy had to stifle her laughter in a coughing fit and Dudley choked on his coffee.
Harry, meanwhile, nodded again. "In that, we wholeheartedly agree, Miss Dursley."
"Dad, can we have a dog?," James called. "I promise I won't make it mean!"
"No way," Ginny said. "You'll be at Hogwarts in a few years and I'm not taking care of your dog then."
James pouted and went back to his toast before starting to squabble with Lily about something.
Whatever timidity Bryony had shown that morning had vanished into thin air by noon. James, Albus and Bryony played Patroni and Dementors in the garden, the mere term making Dudley shudder, and Bryony shrieked in delight playing with her cousins. Lily tried to follow them on toddler legs, frustrated when she could not keep up so Ginny scooped her up and took her on a broom ride, Sammy and Dudley watching with wide eyes as the broomstick rose into the sky.
"Someone from the school will come and visit you shortly after Bryony's tenth birthday," Harry explained meanwhile. "Get you on board with all things Hogwarts and paperwork for the Muggle authorities so they don't think you've pulled her out of compulsory schooling."
Dudley could not remember any teacher coming to 4 Privet Drive to do such a thing when Harry had turned ten. But then again, the giant who'd found them on that hut on the rock had also thought Dudley's mum would have told Harry everything.
"Hey," Harry started, "what are you going to do about your parents?"
Dudley's stomach clenched tightly at the thought. Despite their numerous faults, falling out with his parents had hurt the first time. And it would not hurt any less this time either.
Couldn't well help it, really.
"Nothing," Dudley said and watched as Ginny landed in the middle of the garden with Lily, the three other children swarming them and begging for a ride.
Harry seemed like he wanted to argue but Sammy took Dudley's hand and squeezed, understanding what he did not need to say.
Bryony was a witch. Vernon and Petunia Dursley had made it plenty clear that they did not want any sort of magic in their lives. The only reason Harry had stayed with them for so long was some elaborate magic thing protecting him that the old headmaster had explained what felt like a million years ago.
There was so much Dudley did not understand about this world. He still jumped at casual displays of magic and he only dimly remembered some terms from Harry. The school was Hogwarts, Dementors removed all joy and guarded a wizarding prison, they did their shopping at Diagonally, whatever sort of place that was.
At the very least, Dudley remembered proudly, he knew underage students weren't allowed to do magic outside of school.
Dudley imagined going through this ordeal of finding out his daughter was a witch without a wizarding family member and was grateful once more for his humility in reconnecting with Harry all these years ago.
"Harry," he said.
Harry turned towards him, green eyes bright, arms akimbo and wand loosely in his right hand. "What's up, Big D?"
"Thanks," Dudley said and the word came easier these days. "For all this. I–we were–"
"Fish out of water?," Harry supplied.
Dudley nodded and the words that followed felt heavy: "You didn't have to do it. Help us. Help me. You could've let us deal with it ourselves. Karma, or whatever they call it."
Harry was silent for a moment before speaking again: "A magical child is a gift, not karma, I'd say. Bryony being a witch is not a punishment, I think it's your last test to redeem what a right git you were when we were kids. And besides..."
Harry gave him a wry smile. "You made an effort. Even when we were still at Privet Drive, after the summer of fifth year."
The Dementor attack. Dudley shuddered at the memory.
"And in recent years especially," Harry said and his smile turned from wry to genuine, even somewhat proud. "You made that first step when you gave Hestia that letter. That meant a lot, Dudley."
Dudley nodded again, mutely, a lump in his throat cutting off his voice. Sammy's arm slid into his, fingers lacing together, and she squeezed. When Dudley glanced at her, she was smiling.
Bryony didn't have siblings – not for lack of want, but rather lack of finances. There was no way they could afford childcare in Greater London for two children and neither could they afford for one of them to stay home and look after the children. Sammy only had one brother twelve years her senior who had moved to Canada and Dudley, well, Dudley only had one relative in his generation and that was Harry.
Bryony had no cousins except for the Potter children. And from the looks of it, she and them, especially Albus, got along like a house on fire.
It was not going to heal the rift between Dudley and his own cousin, but it granted Bryony a chance to connect with family her own age – who shared what Dudley and Sammy could not give her.
Magic.