Chapter 1
Prologue
Number 4 Privet Drive had the nicest garden in Little Whinging, and it had done for years. While the Dursley family that lived there were especially obsessed with being seen as everything “normal”, Mrs. Petunia Dursley had discovered that the notoriety of having the best garden made many things in her life far more palatable. Things like the gardener of that beautiful patch of flowers, her otherwise waste of a nephew, one Harry J. Potter.
Chapter 1 -
Harry was five when Petunia started putting him to work in the flower beds outside Number 4 Privet Drive. He had been indoors attempting to be invisible to all the Dursleys when Dudley, his cousin of similar age, decided that Harry’s drawings were more interesting as shredded paper than as pictures. Petunia was livid over the mess, and told Harry that once it was swept up, he was to go outside and weed the garden.
“Aunt Petunia, how do I know which ones are flowers and which ones are weeds?” Harry asked quietly, eyes on the shreds of his “family portrait” he was supposed to draw for his primary school assignment. It was fitting his was shredded up, since he didn’t really have a family, as Uncle Vernon was always telling him.
Petunia just squinted angrily at the small boy, his question, like all his questions, not something she wanted to take the time to explain. “Just go out the the shed, boy. There’s some books and things out there about gardening, figure it out. Don’t come back in until those flower beds are weeded though, I won’t be feeding slackers in my house.”
And so, out Harry went. The shed was dusty, full of spiders and other creepy crawlies, but Harry was used to those things, and he had many spider friends living with him in his cupboard under the stairs. Towards the back of the shed there was a small desk, with odd shears and small pots, old packets of dried seeds, and a couple of simple glass vases. On a small shelf just over the desk was a collection of old flower arranging magazines, and two small books on gardening and flowers.
The collection of things seemed to be remnants of one of Petunia’s short lived hobbies. In Harry’s short life Petunia had taken up at least a dozen failed hobbies, and most of Harry’s few possessions were usually cast off items from these ventures. He had an excellent set of knitting needles from the winter Petunia’s decided to make everyone sweaters (she didn’t make so much as a single sock), and he’d taught himself to sew with the small sewing machine Petunia had purchased when she wanted to get into fashion design (Harry was allowed to keep it when she realized she didn’t have to buy Harry clothes, if he could modify Dudley’s hand-me-downs).
The flower arranging bench seemed to have quite a few small niches and cubbies for storing things, and Harry immediately saw the benefit of such a place. None of the Dursleys had been out the shed in over year, not since Harry had gotten big enough to push the push mower and rake leaves, so he decided to use it for his own.
Grabbing up the two books, Harry stepped back outside where he could see better. He’d have to clean the greenhouse style window on the side of the shed if he wanted to be able to see in there, but for now he sat on the ground with his back to the shed, and sounded out the titles.
“1000 Flowers and their Meanings, by Harold Gumpty, and Grow them Yourself: a Guide to Growing the Perfect Bouquet, by Norman C. Fitzwaldo,” Harry mumbled out quietly. Harry set down the flower meanings book, admiring for a moment the gilded font and embossed flowers on the spine, and started on the more gardening focused book. He doubted he’d get to eat tonight, but at least he wouldn’t be bored.
As the days went by, Harry discovered quite the knack for getting the small flower patch to behave the way he envisioned. He had a delicate touch with the blooms, was careful about the stems and stalks, and could replant the flowers fairly easily without damaging the roots. The small seed collection he’d found in the shed was miraculously still viable, so he started several kinds of seeds to see what would grow from them, as not all were labeled.
After a rather sweltering day where Harry spent most of it outside in the garden blistering himself red, the woman from Number 6 gave him an old gardening hat to keep the sun off his face. Petunia was livid, but didn’t want to make him throw it away, in case Number 6 ask about it. In fact, Number 6 stopped by several times to check on Harry, giving him gardening tips, plant cuttings and sometimes even snacks (although he made sure to keep those from the Dursleys’ sight, lest they withhold meals to compensate).
So, as the springs would turn to summers, Harry could consistently be found outside Number 4 Privet Drive, slowly taking over the garden plots and yard with different vibrant and beautiful flowers, herbs, and edibles, and even a couple of flowering bushes. He spent winters indoors, mostly in his cupboard, catching up on his mending of Dudley’s hand-me-downs so they’d fit his thin frame, knitting, and starting early seedlings in the shed. He’d plan and plot out new and interesting designs for the gardens in the late winter, looking forward to when he could be back in the gardens.
While he was mostly alone, Dudley having chased off any children that might want to play with him at school, Harry made friends with several frogs and toads that liked to play in the improvised pond he’d set up, and he even spent an afternoon chatting away quietly to a garden snake, the odd creature seeming to nod along to Harry’s explanation of the flower meanings. It escaped quietly through a slat in the fence when Petunia shrieked out the window at Harry about it, and while he ended up in the cupboard without dinner again, he couldn’t help smile about how the little snake seemed to wave goodbye with its tail.
When he was outdoors the Dursleys seemed to bother him much less often, like he was forgotten among the vines and shrubs and trees. He organized a patch of the garden out of sight from the windows where he grew a small collection of berries, tomatoes, greens and squashes, depending on the season, so he went hungry a little less. This little patch seemed to attract more critters to the yard, even some rather large fireflies that would almost seem to hop from plant to plant in the evenings, their odd shades of pink and green light beautiful to see.
Birds of all sorts seemed to greatly enjoy the variety of flower and shrubs in the backyard of Number 4 since Harry took it over. While you’d see common sparrows and crows, there were also a few owls that must have moved near enough by, and they would visit in the evenings sometimes to hoot calmly from the fence, surveying the Chinese chrysanthemums that seemed to lose endless petals in the breeze.
One late August afternoon had Vernon Dursley home far earlier than his normal day, which is how he caught Harry planting small pots of bright yellow foxglove along the driveway. Grabbing Harry up by the collar of his shirt, Vernon was swelling up red in the face to curse Harry clear through to next week when he suddenly stopped at the sound of approaching voices.
“Now Sue, here’s the house I was telling you about. With the adorable collections of heirloom flowers planted all about.” The voice was Mrs. Number 6, leading a small group of finely dressed ladies up the sidewalk, several of the ladies carrying clipboards, and one with a small camera. At the sight of them Vernon straightened up, patting his hair down, and pushing Harry behind himself so the ladies wouldn’t see him.
“Afternoon, Mrs. Cole!” Vernon hailed merrily, his tone rather stiffer than normal. “What have we here, a lady’s luncheon? I’ll have Petunia come out, one moment.” With a tight smile, Vernon turned back to the house and hustled his large body up the steps, leaving Harry off to the side in the shadow of the porch, frozen while the ladies tittered to each other about the flowers. Petunia swept out the door in a rush, smiling brightly at the small group.
“Ladies! What a pleasure, I didn’t know we’d be expecting visitors this afternoon.” Petunia’s voice was tight in the same way Vernon’s had been, especially after she notice Harry still in the yard. She started to wave him away, when Mrs. Cole of Number 6 spoke back up.
“Petunia dear, I brought over the ladies from the gardening club!” Mrs. Cole said with a bright smile, the same one pasted on all the faces of the ladies around her. “I was chatting with Mrs. Figg over on Wisteria Walk, and between the two of us we’ve nominated your garden for the annual Flower Promenade. We just love what you’ve had your nephew do with the place this year!”
At this Petunia momentarily blanched, her eyes going wide. She and Vernon had been trying to promote the idea that Harry was a hooligan, so that no one would really pay much attention to the boy. Fixing her smile back on, Petunia simpered out a small laugh. “Well ladies, that’s just wonderful to hear. We’ve had the boy doing the yard as part of his rehabilitation, you know. He’s not always all there, so some outdoor work seems to do wonders for him.”
Mrs. Cole smile tightened a bit, and her gaze narrowed. “My Petunia, I haven’t had even a moment of trouble with dear Harry. He’s always wonderfully polite when I stop by to ask about what he’s planting. Surely you’re being a bit harsh, he’s just a little boy. So talented too, he’s what, 9 years old now?” At this several of the ladies seemed to be shocked, that Harry was so young and doing so much outdoors. “He’s practically a prodigy with his garden, dear, no way such a tender boy could be a hooligan.”
Turning back to the other ladies, Mrs. Cole spoke up. “Now, you’ll need a few pictures of the backyard, there’s some lovely sections there around the young aspen tree. Harry, the dear, has managed to get several things to bloom quite late and out of season, the bright boy.” With a big smile, Mrs. Cole led the small troupe of ladies through the side yard and into Harry’s small oasis at Number 4.
As the Dursleys had made an effort to forget Harry’s existence while he was outdoors, none of the family really ventured into the backyard anymore. Once a place of yellowed grass and endless broken toys (all Dudley’s), now it had well manicured patches of wildflowers, herbs, late season edibles, and more cultivated flowers. There were also a few small trees and several flowering blushes, shaping the yard into paths and open areas, vines of flowers and hops climbing sections of the fence.
Petunia herself was shocked at the wild and bold displays of colors, her face pinching up tight and fists clenching. Turning sharply to Harry, she hissed.
“What sort of freakishness have you done back here, boy? How have you managed all this?”
Unheard by the group of ladies, Harry whispered back, “I just planted seeds that I found in the shed, and took care of things like the books said to, Aunt Petunia. The bushes and things are cutting I’ve found or been given. I did like you said and followed the books. The plants just liked to grow here.”
“Plants don’t LIKE things, boy! I’ll have none of that weird talk in my home!” Her quiet words were thick with contempt, but before Petunia could spread anymore hatred with her words, she was interrupted.
“Petunia, what you and your family have done here is just marvelous! We’d love to have your garden listed in the newsletter, with pictures and all!” Mrs. Cole smirked at Petunia as the head of the garden association beamed. Unable to condemn Harry for the display, Petunia decided to make use of it. Just because he did the work, didn’t mean that her home wasn’t the one being recognized. Maybe this will be how the boy earns his keep, Petunia though with a smirk growing on her face.
“Oh, we’d just love that, thank you so very much for thinking of us, and our little paradise here. Just let me know where to stand then, for the photos.” Petunia guided the group around the yard, like she had anything to do with it, Harry standing by in the shade of the house.
Quietly, Mrs. Cole made her way over to Harry, looking idly at the flowers near him. “You’ve done beautiful work, Harry. I have to wonder how you knew all these beautiful flowers went together?” At her soft question, Harry’s heart started to race. He stuttered out, “I-I have a book. Aunt P-Petunia gave it to me, it says what all the flowers are. I had to look up a few definitions but… they just meant the right things. T-they sort of say it all.”
With that quiet confession, Mrs. Cole gave Harry a sad smile. “I see you’ve planted marigolds, morning glories, and anemone here. You’ve even gotten crocuses to bloom, and they’re not quite in season at all.” Her tone was almost a question, and all Harry could do was nod slightly. He didn’t want to confirm aloud what she was implying about the flowers, and he really didn’t know how they grew so well, almost year round.
“Alright, sweet boy. Alright.” Mrs. Cole stepped back from Harry, giving him a serious look. “I’m going to talk to someone this evening, Harry, about your flowers. They knew your Mum very well. I’ll have them come look at your garden.” She paused here, and looked over at Petunia, who was still shepherding the rest of the ladies around the flowers, and posing near a display of tall sunflowers, hydrangeas, and cockscomb amaranth. Harry had placed a small sign there with Petunia’s name, and when Mrs. Cole notices, she smirked at Harry.
“It’s good that you still have some spunk left. This friend of mine is a bit like a thorn branch, so when you meet, just be polite, alright my dear?” Harry’s eyebrows rose up when Mrs. Cole put emphasis on the thorn branch, and then nodded. He wasn’t really certain what she was telling him, but he’d check his book as soon as he could.
“Alright ladies!” Mrs. Cole called loudly, gathering the group back to her. “We should head out now, we have a few more gardens to look at this afternoon. Petunia dear, these pictures will be in the next issue of the newsletter, so check your post!” With a wave in the window where Vernon was looking out, Mrs. Cole led the ladies out of the yard and down the street, Petunia and Harry watching from the side yard.
“Into the house with you, boy, get dinner going. And don’t track any dirt into my house!” Petunia snapped. Harry looked one last time down the lane at where Mrs. Cole had disappeared to before going into the house, but didn’t notice the owl swooping down to perch on Number 6’s roof.
Harry kept busy the rest of the night, cooking and cleaning, before Petunia allowed him to go out and water the few plants that needed it, and clear out the birdbath he’d set up. He didn’t hear the sound of a car backfiring from down the street. He didn’t notice the flicking out of the street lamp nearest their yard, or spy the rolling shadow that seemed to creep across the side yard and into the bushes. Harry just hummed what sounded like a sad lullaby, tending his plants, before going back into Number 4, to his cupboard under the stairs.
Little Whinging’s Flower Promenade Winner Announced
By Cecil Gaines, photos by Bailey Herford
This year we had a surprise entry into the Flower Promenade, sponsored by several members of our lovely little neighborhood, and voted on by the council. You’ll see the beauty of all seasons lovingly represented in Number 4 Privet Drive’s lush gardens. Strolling up the drive you’d notice cheerful yellow foxglove, and featured around the windows you might spy beds of flourishing anemone… Around the back of the property, under the swaying branches of a thriving aspen tree are pockets of marigolds, dogbane, crocus, and Chinese chrysanthemum… Mrs. Petunia Dursley, proudly standing before a display of bright white hydrangeas, exuberant cockscomb amaranth and even some sunflowers as tall as she… herb garden pots full of aloe and basil for kitchen use… Here Dudley (9) hold up a wildflower bouquet of meadowsweet and French Marigolds he picked for his mum from cut flower planters in the side yard… (More on pg 4)
SEV POV
With two weeks until the next term was set to start, Severus Snape had a million and one better things to do than traipsing through muggle backyards, looking at muggle flowers. Had it not been Ava Cole nee Burke that called in this favor, he would have ignored it entirely. But he did owe her for that… unfortunate situation in 3rd year, with the venomous hedges, so now he was using his one free remaining night before the school year started again to practice his floriography.
Grateful for the increase to his night vision from his Animagus form, Severus strode down the street of Privet Drive under a Notice-me-Not Charm, checking house numbers until he flinched harshly at the sickly feel of an oddly constructed ward line lashing out at him. Moving back several paces, Severus pulled his wand, casting a quick Muffliato, and started chanting, analyzing the wards carefully so as not to disturb them.
What sort of idiot is putting up blood wards in muggle Surrey? Severus though viciously. With a put-upon sigh, he flicked his wand and whispered, “Expecto Patronum.” Watching for a moment as the small doe danced out of the tip of his wand, Severus felt his chest tighten briefly.
“Burke, I’m going to have your head if you’ve led me to a pocket of vampires or some shite in a muggle suburb. There are blood wards on this damn house you want me to visit. Get over here if you want me to look around, I’m not going in without you.” With that message, the doe dashed away, the brief flicker of light looking like no more than headlights from a car, if any muggle had looked out onto the darkened street.
Not five minutes later the resounding crack of apparition sounded, and a trim figure sloped out of the darkness toward where Severus waited.
“Burke,” Severus nodded at the woman, his face a bored mask. With a sigh, she stepped in close to the wards next to him, into the range of the silencing charm at work, her wry smile a bit tight on her face.
“It’s Cole now, as you know Sev. I’ve been married for 9 years, but you ditched the wedding, so I’m not surprised you forget.” Pulling her wand, Mrs. Cole started running through the same diagnostic charms Severus performed minutes prior, plus several more complex ones. Wards weren’t Severus’ specialty, that would always be potions. Ava had nearly gotten her Masters in Warding and Herbology, before she up and married a muggle during the height of the Wizarding War.
“I was here not this afternoon Sev, I’ve walked through these wards dozens of times. Shite, I’ve lived on this street the last 3 years, and it’s never been an issue. I’m not sure what’s tripping you up he-“ she froze, then ran the last charm again.
“Well, bollocks, it’s got a block on blood relatives. You got any kids, Sev?” Ava’s eyes were wide, since she knew exactly who was supposed to be in that house. Sure, she had only lived in the neighborhood a few years, but the young wizard living with the muggles in that house was famous all over the Wizarding world, not that he knew it. It was luck that had her husband wanting to move to this area, and with her skill with wards, she’d had no problem moving nearby unnoticed.
At her question Severus had blanched a pallid grey, his fingers tightening up on his wand while he looked at the house with fresh eyes. “Who was it… exactly, that you wanted me to check on in this house, Ava?”
“Um, well. It’s Harry Potter.”