Chapter 2
Harry had no reason, beforehand, to think that Daisy and Dahlia Dursley would be anything other than miniature Dudleys. He wasn't expecting to love them at all. It just happened.
At first, all the baby (the babies) represented was a tremendous amount of work; preparing for their arrival, doing all the housework while Aunt Petunia was in hospital, and then once they were home he was still doing all the cooking, a phenomenal amount of laundry, almost all the nappy changes and most of the night feeds. By the time Daisy and Dahlia had been home two weeks, Harry was sleeping on the rug on the nursery floor, so as to be ready to hush them before Uncle Vernon woke and got cross. He was doing badly at school without even having to make the effort to seem less able than Dudley, simply because he was sleep-deprived. Eventually, Aunt Petunia took back the reins of the household, and Harry didn't have to plan any more, just do what he was told when he was told, and keep the babies happy.
But the thing was, he didn't mind, not very much. Not since the first time he managed to get Dahlia to stop screaming, because he was there, and everything was all right. Not since the first time Daisy opened her eyes and looked at him. Yes, they were loud and smelly - but they actually seemed to like him, to be attached to him as a caregiver. For the first time in his memory, Harry Potter had somebody - two somebodies - to love who actually seemed to love him back.
By the time Dudley's birthday rolled around again, the twins were sleeping through the night, and Harry was back to the cupboard. Dudley wanted both parents at his birthday party, and that meant the twins had to come too, and - after Mrs Figg broke her leg - Harry as well. The incident with the snake went spectacularly badly, especially when Vernon's yelling set the twins off crying, and nobody but Harry could soothe them. It didn't help that his soothing murmurs sounded a lot like hissing to the rest of the family, though nobody pointed that out. Dudley's new Smeltings uniform still had his parents making an enormous fuss of him, and he still got very attached to his Smeltings stick, but he was warned to be careful with it around his sisters and - for once in his life - he obeyed.
As for the Dursley's reaction to Harry's Hogwarts letters: it wasn't pretty. "How dare you bring such freakishness around our little girls?" "Setting a bad example for them with your unnaturalness!" "Yeah, Harry, think about Daisy and Dahlia!" "What a good big brother you are, Dudley!" And so on. In the absence of an unused bedroom, Harry was moved to the attic, which was hardly better than the cupboard. ("Loft conversions are very fashionable, you know! Be more grateful!") The family still went on the run from the letters, although they were rather better provisioned with baby food, bottles, and massive quantities of junk food for Dudley, who was hardly going to be left out.
Hagrid still came to the hut on the rock; Vernon still insulted Dumbledore; but it was Harry, not Dudley, who got the pig tail, after he threw himself between the stranger's weapon and the twins. Hagrid was very apologetic. This time, Harry refused to take the boat back and leave the Dursleys stranded - there wasn't that much baby food left, and nothing to heat up formula! - so Hagrid had to take Harry flying even if Dumbledore had said it was inadvisable. The flying motorbike was wonderful, and Harry was delighted to have had the experience. Hagrid grumbled about how he was supposed to get the train in to London, and travel the Muggle way, but Harry argued that motorbikes are perfectly normal for Muggles, as long as they aren't seen flying, and surely if they did the last bit by driving on the road it would be all right; they could park the motorbike in a parking space like Muggles do, and use the Muggle money that way, rather than on train tickets! Begrudgingly, Hagrid agreed.
"I s'pose we've got ter fit St Mungo's in, as well as the rest of the Alley - that tail 'asn't gone away, 'as it?" It hadn't. So the first place Hagrid pulled up to was a grimy, boarded-up department store building called 'Purge & Dowse,' where Harry fed the meter with enough coins for two hours. Thus, Harry's first sight of the wizarding world, rather than a fantastic shopping street, was a rather phantasmagoric tableau of all the things that can go wrong with magic. Hagrid ushered him to take a seat, and a healer would be with them soon; Hagrid's loud voice attracted the attention of bystanders, and the susurration of "surely that can't be Harry Potter" grew. Soon enough, a healer in lime-green robes whisked them off to a private room. The tail itself took a mere flick of a wand to remove, but Harry was then kept for another hour getting his medical history on the record, having his vaccinations updated, receiving a lecture about how magic burns calories and so wizards need to eat more than Muggles do, and getting a referral for an oculist in Diagon Alley ("and I shall floo-call him to ask whether or not you've been, Mr Potter, make no mistake. Those glasses are not good enough! Muggles, honestly.") Hagrid's mumble of "Dumbledore said only ter get what's on 'is list" met with short shrift.
"Really, I never heard of such a thing! This young wizard is going to boarding school, and he needs everything that one should take with them on such an occasion! He won't be able to see the blackboard in his lessons without proper glasses, and wearing those ones much longer might do permanent damage to his eyes! I suppose if it hadn't been for that silly tail mishap, he wouldn't have had his vaccinations updated! You mark my words, Mr Potter - there are things you'll need that aren't on the list because sensible parents don't need to be told. Toothpowder and a toothbrush aren't on the list, but nobody expects you to go for months without brushing your teeth. I'm not saying you should buy out the entirety of Madam Primpernelle's, but some personal care potions wouldn't go amiss. You should be clean and tidy. And I don't think much to those clothes, even if they are the latest Muggle fashion. Get casual-style robes for the weekends, or some more respectable-looking Muggle-style clothes. He can't go around in rags, Mr Hagrid. It's not done. A few extra books for recreational reading wouldn't go amiss. Stationery: quills, ink, parchment for homework, but binders or notebooks to keep your class notes organised, and I always swore by a good homework planner. And I'm not saying you should spend vast sums of money on the finest trunk possible, but think about what features you might need - featherweight, shrinking - ask what's available. You'll be using it for seven years and possibly more. And I don't like the look of those shoes of yours, either. See a proper wizarding cobbler. Wearing ill-fitting shoes while you're still growing can damage your feet; any Healer knows that. And the same thing goes for your back and shoulders carrying heavy bags of books; get a proper wizarding shoulderbag or rucksack, charmed featherweight. And don't forget proper nightwear! Pyjamas or nightshirt, slippers, dressing gown, winter and summer-weight. Nobody wants you getting chillblains." Harry asked to borrow a pen, was given a quill, and started taking notes, while Hagrid looked more and more fretful. "Oh, and the stationer's shop should have calligraphy primers. Never used a quill before? Really, Mr Potter, you might as well be a muggleborn; you should at least get the preparation Muggleborns do. Disgraceful I call it. The last of the Potters, having to ask in all the shops up and down the Alley for Muggleborn basic leaflets and preparation kits." Hagrid got quite cross at this, and after an argument where both sides insisted that 1) Harry absolutely was not a muggleborn, but from an old wizarding family on his father's side, and 2) there was absolutely nothing wrong with being muggleborn, they stormed out of the hospital and reclaimed the motorbike.
"I bet she was in Slytherin, sneerin' at muggleborns that way," Hagrid told Harry solemnly. "You mark my word, 'Arry, yer mum was as good a witch as anybody. Don't you listen to anyone 'oo tells yer different."
"No, Hagrid, I won't," said Harry dutifully, adding to himself, but I'm still getting new glasses and a toothbrush, you see if I don't. Aunt Petunia was extremely fussy about Daisy and Dahlia's teeth, and Harry had sat through quite a few of her lectures on the importance of dental hygiene. He didn't get fancy toothbrushes like the Dursley children did, with pretty colours and cartoon characters; only the cheapest and plainest for the Freak, and he was expected to make them last. But now, he'd found out his parents had had money, and he was going to use that money to look after himself; to see that he had the same kind of nice things his parents would have got him, had they lived.