New Blood

“Harry! Dudley! Breakfast is ready, come down now,” Petunia called from downstairs. 

Harry. Not ‘boy,’ not ‘freak,’ but ‘Harry.’ His name. He threw open the door at the same time as his cousin–-no, his brother; his glasses were slightly askew as he grinned at the boy across from him. No longer did he live in the cupboard underneath the stairs. 

“First one down gets mum’s blueberry muffins!” Dudley yelled, rushing past. 

“Oi! No fair! You don’t wear glasses! I’m an invalid!” Harry yelled back, running after Dudley who was already bounding down the stairs two steps at a time. Harry focused on the warm feeling within the pit of his chest, eyeing the feet of his brother before whooping when his legs stuck together.

“Aha!” He called when Dudley's face planted into the hallway. Petunia came out, “What on earth is going– Harry James! Dudley Ian! What have I told you about magic in the hallway? Not around my precious vases. Harry, undo Dudley’s leg’s now.”

“But, mum! It’s a cut throat world out there! And your blueberry muffins are to die for,” Harry said, rather dramatically as he leaned into Dudley who had managed to get himself back into a standing position. 

Dudley laughed as he said, “It’s true, mummy. Your muffins really are to die for.”

The thin faced woman huffed, “Yes, well, no one will be dying today.”

Harry looked at his aunt and cousin with a soft smile on his face and wondered for a brief moment how he had gotten to this point. Emerald eyes floated to Dudley who had been chatting animatedly with his mum.

“He’s infected you! He’s infected our, Dudders! How dare– that freak will get what he deserves! I’m sorry, my boy, I have no choice.” Vernon shouted with rage. Harry could remember that shade of purple anywhere. He had seen it enough times to know. They had been at the zoo. Harry had been talking to a snake. 

The next thing he knew, he was being shoved aside in his cousin’s excitement and the glass of the python’s enclosure had disappeared. The only thing was… he hadn’t been the one who had made it disappear. 

Dudley had been shocked to say the least. Shocked and most of all scared. If only because he had fallen into the enclosure the moment the glass had reappeared. After some panicking, Harry had managed to get his cousin out. But it had been too late. Uncle Vernon had seen and now both him and Dudley had been shoved into the cupboard underneath the stairs. Hours later, when the door had opened, both of them had been yanked out by the hair. 

“Dad! No! Stop it! We don’t know what happened!”

Harry’s hand flinched towards the one in his hair, as he unknowingly added to Vernon’s rage, “It was like magic!”

“There is no such thing as magic!”

Dudley had received his first beating that day. Harry couldn’t stand it. Even when he launched himself in front of Dudley to protect his large frame with his significantly smaller one, “No, Uncle Vernon, stop!”

Harry couldn’t help but grin slightly as Dudley said, “Harry, you coming?”

“Yeah, I’m coming, Dud. I was just thinking.”

“About what?” His cousin asked, plopping into his usual seat near the window, immediately reaching for one of the blueberry muffins resting in the middle of the table. 

“Mum hitting Uncle Vernon with that frying pan,” Harry said, grin widening into a smile as Petunia coughed lightly into her tea, “Harry. There is no such reason for you to be thinking about that.”

The boy wanted to pout, but Dudley kicked in, “Come on, mum. You have to admit, that was a pretty good day. I hope I remember that forever.”

Harry laughed as he looked towards Dudley, “Me too, Dud. Me too.”

Petunia didn’t have enough composition to withhold her eye roll; however, the slight tilt of her lips made Harry think she was just as fond of that memory as her boys were. “Oh! Dudley, my growing boy, it’s finally your eleventh birthday! Growing up much too quickly my duddykins.”

Across from Harry, Dudley blushed at the nickname, “Mum. It’s Dudley or Dud.” Harry laughed as he looked at his cousin, biting into his muffin as his aunt waved her hand dismissively, “Nonsense, you will always be my Duddykins, just as Harry will always be my Harrykins.”

Harry flushed a bright red, “Mum! You can’t call me that! We’re going to be going to Hogwarts soon, and people cannot hear us being called that.”

“Harry’s right! It would ruin our image!” 

Again, Harry was struck with the warm feeling he had felt earlier. 

“Harry, you have every right to hate me, or perhaps ignore this apology in total. I know that… I know that I have never been much of a family to you, but I would like to change that. I’m sorry, Harry. For everything. I should have stopped Vernon sooner. I know Lily might never forgive me, but… I want to try everything to make it right between us, Harry.”

The small boy looked up at his Aunt. She had never apologized to him before. And while she had never taken a direct role in his abuse, she had never stopped it. Harry knew this, but at the same time, he knew what he saw. He saw his aunt, who had attacked his uncle in front of him before hugging both him and Dudley like her life depended on it. He remembered the police and social services asking him questions. 

He remembered his uncle screaming.

“They’re freaks! They’re all freaks! That freak infected my boy!”

Harry looked at his Aunt again, “I don’t think I can forgive you right away Aunt Petunia. But… I would like this. I would like to be a family. With you and Dudley.”

For a moment, Petunia had only blinked before she had tugged Harry into his arms. Harry’s eyes widened slightly, before suddenly, his eyes were stinging. Slowly, his arms came up and wrapped around his aunt. How long had he wished for this? How long had he begged and pleaded and yearned for his aunt’s approval? Harry closed his eyes and clung to his aunt as he began to sob. 

“I’m so sorry, Harry.”

Harry only sobbed harder. 

“–ames Evans!”

Harry blinked when a hand waved in front of his face, “Harry! Christ, what is wrong with you?” He looked at his cousin then his aunt, “I’m sorry, mum. Dud. I’m just caught up in my thoughts today. I never thought I’d be here. With you two. Without Uncle Vernon. I never thought I’d have magic. That we’d have magic, Dud.”

The lines on Petunia’s face softened lightly. She rested a gentle hand on his cheek before she said, “Harry… You’ve always been quite mature for your age, I sometimes forget you’re still a child.” 

Petunia smiled softly, “My word, I still remember when you were scared to call me ‘mum.’ I could hear you and Dudley whispering in your room. It was almost midnight. I was about to throw a fit, the two of you staying up so late on a school night.” She looked towards Dudley who grinned sheepishly towards Harry and her. “That next morning, both you and Dudley made me breakfast and you two said, good morning. But the both of you called me mum. I cried.”

Harry smiled slightly, “I remember.”

“Good morning, mum.” The boys coursed as they laid a tray of breakfast in front of Petunia. The woman had been working tirelessly. While Vernon’s salary had kept them comfortable, Petunia’s meager job as a secretary only made their “comfortable” passable. The woman wanted to thank them for the breakfast, but instead had been caught up in their greeting. ‘Mum.’ Petunia stared at Dudley who looked too smug, and Harry who looked as though he was going to get scolded any minute.

Once again, Petunia felt her eyes soften and her expression slide into a gentle smile. “Good morning, my boys.”

The slightly burnt eggs that Dudley had insisted on making were worth the beaming smile she had gotten out of Harry. It didn’t make it any easier, though, when she gently sat him down hours later with a small scrap book and a frayed letter that she had retrieved from the attic. 

“Harry, I wanted to talk to you. About your parents and how they died. And… why you were left here.”

Harry looked up at Aunt Petunia when she handed him the small scrapbook. “Here.” Harry tilted his head slightly before he flipped open the cover. Immediately his breath caught in his throat; he stared at the redheaded woman who was so obviously his mother who was holding a man who was so obviously his father close. Underneath the picture was a caption:

‘Lily and James Potter, 1979’

It had taken almost a full day to tell Harry everything. From his parents to their death, to him being left on her doorstep with nothing but a note from Dumbledore. Harry had held the letter loosely, staring at it blankly as he read through the words quietly. 

His aunt called it a letter, but it really wasn’t. It wasn’t a letter. It was a threat. A threat to their very existence if they didn’t take them in. Harry’s fists clenched as he stared at the parchment. He swallowed the lump in his throat and mumbled, “I don’t like this Dumbledore.”

Petunia snorted, “Me neither sweetheart.” With that, she gently pried the letter from his clenched fists and lifted him. And like the child he had never got to be, Petunia carried him up the stairs to his room where he was served a warm mug of hot chocolate. 

“Don’t trust him, Dumbledore. I would know a meddling man more than anyone.” Petunia murmured as she brushed Harry’s fringe from his forehead. 

Harry closed his eyes as his bangs were brushed back, “Now that Duds is eleven do you think our Hogwarts letters will be here today? Now that I think about it, I hope my letter isn’t addressed to Harry Potter.”

Dudley made a face, “You would think with magic they would be able to keep track of things like that, wouldn’t they?”

“Evans? You want me to change my name to Evans?” Harry asked, looking at his mum. Petunia shook her head, “No, Harry. Because I am divorced from your uncle, I felt it necessary to change mine and your cousin’s–” Dudley interrupted, “Brother, mum!”

Petunia laughed slightly, “Forgive me, mine and your brother’s last names to my maiden name. Evans. If you wish to change your last name, you can. You do not have to be any sort of poster boy for Dumbledore, as if I’d allow it. I simply want you to have choices to be yourself.”

Harry had thought about it for a moment as his aunt led him and his cousin to the small city building that Dudley had once said he had been to for a class field trip. Did he want the fame of the wizarding world on his shoulders? Absolutely not. He didn’t want Dumbledore breathing down his neck either. However, the more he thought about it. The more he realized that, he was no longer alone. 

“I want to change my name, too, mum.”

“If they did address it to a Harry Potter, I will be sure to write to the headmaster or perhaps Deputy Headmistress. I believe your grandmother had mentioned something about a Deputy Headmistress. They usually send a professor to take students to go supply shopping, as they did with your mother, Harry.” Petunia said, taking another sip of her tea as she finally sat down, having served the rest of breakfast to the boys.

Harry carefully shoveled some scrambled eggs and a couple sausages onto his plate, “You’re not going to let us go alone, are you, mum?”

Petunia laughed, “Heavens, no!”

Dudley sighed with relief, “Oh, thank goodness! Can you imagine if Dumbledore arrives? I don’t think him and mum would last one hour in a room together.”

Harry snorted as he bit into one of his sausages, “I don’t think so either–”

“Harry James, please chew first.” Petunia sighed exasperatedly as Dudley laughed. The smaller boy, despite the much healthier stature he sported, blushed with a sheepish grin. He was happy.