Daisy and Dahlia

Petunia Dursley hadn't been expecting the 31st of July to be a particularly good day; as such, she was not exactly disappointed. She was, however, most disgruntled. It had been lovely to have her Dudders come back to visit her the previous day; but by the time the first hour had passed, it was clear he had come more to say goodbye to his sisters than to see her. He even spoke to Harry, inexplicable though it was that anyone might want to do that. She'd have thought Dudley would have been glad to see the back of him; he'd always seemed to show the proper attitude before. Perhaps she ought to have eavesdropped, but in the end, she couldn't bring herself to. She just did not want to know. She pretended she wasn't aware of the Freak's arrival until the other Freaks spoiled the illusion.

Oh, they had arrived at eleven on the dot, the younger dressed in a fairly standard business suit, the older in something that could have come straight out of Petunia's grandparents' wedding photo, stiff high collar and all. But they had prowled around the edge of the property, dropping matchboxes every couple of yards; and once they had done that, they started openly waving sticks around! Then a car drove up, and a couple of horrible creatures came out, also wearing suits. It was only after they'd been at it for a good half-hour that they deigned to knock on the door and introduce themselves. They explained to her - and to Harry - that from the point that the last matchbox was dropped, none of the neighbours would notice anything out of the ordinary, and if they came too near the house, they would suddenly remember urgent errands elsewhere.

"If anyone did spot us, you can claim you had surveyors in," said the younger man cheerfully. "It's what we are, after all. Just magical surveyors." The older one seemed to disapprove of the levity, as did the two creatures.

"To business," said the shorter creature gruffly. It had introduced itself, but Petunia didn't care to remember. They then went into specifics on the wards: apparently when Petunia's sister got herself killed, it had been part of a particular ritual to ensure her killer could not harm her child, and that horrible scar on the boy's head had actually been carved in by Lily. Dumbledore had half-recognised it, but not fully so. The best thing he could have done would have been to leave the protective magic alone, and to get the more dangerous magic echoes out of the child; instead, he had taken steps to tie the protective magic to a physical property, without so much as a by-your-leave to the actual owners. And, not being a professional warder, only an amateur who didn't know quite as much as he thought he did, he had made a mess of it. The wards were strong. They would have prevented Lily's killer from entering the property, or any of those who 'carried his mark.' But there were a number of things they didn't prevent, that the original protections might have done. The freaks went on about Harry's past injuries for a while, as if that mattered to Petunia. All boys were clumsy, and Harry was clumsier than most. Most of the wards' energy, in fact, went to convincing all those around the property or otherwise connected to the residents that there was nothing strange or unusual going on there; and tied to the physical residence as they were, it was the words of the owners of that residence that were being reinforced. In other words, the protective power of Lily's sacrifice was being repurposed to have Petunia be believed when she told everyone what a nasty little liar Harry was; to have Harry's problems and difficulties be overlooked by the trained educators who ought really to have noticed such things. (Humph!) They had also powered an extremely restrictive owl-ward, which stopped Harry getting post from anyone who wasn't on a list held by Dumbledore. And for this strength, the wards were supposed to draw on the quality of love between Harry and Petunia. Petunia snorted loudly at the ridiculousness of that, and then felt even crosser when she realised the boy had had the same reaction, at the same time. Instead, the wards formed a steady drain on Harry's magical power, and Petunia's potential for life-giving. Indeed, the freaks were astonished to hear Petunia had had two more children while living in the warded house, and only slightly less surprised when it transpired that they had been conceived during a three-week visit to London.

"They must be quite powerful, to have survived the draw of the wards against them upon your return, even as embryos," said the older man, and looked quite offended when this was not taken as a compliment.

The arrival of the twins had also complicated things with the wards, insofar as there did seem to be a genuine fondness between them and Harry, which the wards latched onto. This had also changed the parameters, such that instead of expiring upon Harry's majority at 17, as they had been set to do, they were now set to expire when the youngest child came of age, and would persist even if Harry took up his headship early; it would be possible to reset the warding system to a looser state, not so closely tied to a single residence, although the wardstones could still serve as supplemental wardstones to a tent if that was Harry's wish; other wardstones would need to be purchased to hold the tent's primary wards, and a different power source chosen.

"Fine! Get on with it! I want rid of all of it, as fast as possible!" said Petunia furiously. "We're moving out of here, anyway. And I'm not telling any of you lot where."

Dismantling the wards quickly, Petunia soon learned, would be inadvisable, because of the monitoring charms attached. It was thought that they were supposed to have monitored Harry's own health, and whether the wards were still in no imminent danger of failing; in fact, they measured how robust the wards were, appearing stronger the more they drew on Harry to fuel the neighbours' beliefs about him and the Dursley family, and only tracked Harry's health insofar as they would sound an alert if he appeared to be dying. There was also a ward that would ping every time a wizard other than Harry entered or left the property, which they had temporarily disabled before coming to speak to her, and a specific anti-werewolf ward; those ones were only piggybacking the sacrificial wards quite loosely, and could be removed. Repairing and transferring the wards without setting off any alerts could be done; but it would be slow, and would require a great deal of delicate work. Petunia, at this juncture, decided to retire to the house to clean it obsessively and read gossip magazines; Harry 'might as well make himself useful.' He went gladly; he would be delighted to spend the day playing with the twins.

The twins wanted to play with Harry, too; but that was not what Petunia had in mind. Instead, she wanted him to go through the nursery, and pack everything but the clothes and toys the twins might want over the next few days. There were waste disposal men coming on the third of August, and anything in the attic or the nursery that was still there once Harry had taken the brats on the second was going to go. Out of the goodness of her heart (and not at all because the waste disposal men charged so much per vanload of rubbish), Petunia was choosing to permit Harry to take any of the worthless junk he liked, as long as he didn't take anything valuable, anything that was hers or Vernon's or Dudleys. And in return for Petunia's kindness, Harry could clean the attic while he was turning it out, and sort the things that weren't the twins' into carefully labelled piles.

Petunia didn't know about Dobby, though. He and Harry had agreed that, until Harry took custody of the twins, Dobby was to consider himself 'on standby'. After a discussion of what an elf might actually do with time off, Dobby had decided he would visit friends and relatives, possibly help them with their work, and catch up on any news. The Malfoys had kept him so busy, punished him so heavily, and issued so many specific orders mandating he stay where he was, that he had not seen some of his relatives who were not Malfoy elves in years. So he would enjoy catching up; but Harry was to summon him whenever he was needed or wanted. Harry had done so on a handful of occasions: opening his 'elf vault' at Gringotts; showing him round the tent, including the 'elf cubby-hole', and talking about what kind of furniture and bedding he might like; introducing him to the wards and gate at Potter Manor. This was probably another such occasion.

Daisy and Dahlia were thrilled to have both Harry and Dobby around, to the point of clinginess; they would, however, accept one of their caretakers' busying himself with cardboard boxes if he was in the same room as them, and if the other caretaker was giving them all his attention. And so, after piling four days' worth of clothes and toys onto the cots, Harry and Dobby packed the rest into boxes. Dobby fetched individual boxes from the attic with a snap of his fingers; Harry assessed them, and Dobby repacked them. They didn't even bother opening the boxes labelled 'Dudley's broken toys' in Harry's handwriting, and the box with 'soft toys, age 3+' was deemed an unquestionable keeper. Other boxes required more careful sorting through; in particular, the disintegrating boxes, stamped with 'Jenkins & Digby, movers, packers and dealers, Cokeworth.' Harry had no particular interest in ancient doilies and teatowels; the old photo albums, on the other hand, were of distinct interest. They had the same binding as the '1955-1959' albums downstairs, but these, marked '1960-1979', had lingered in the attic, and Harry could see why. Petunia wouldn't have wanted to keep photos of Lily somewhere others might see them.

The books, though, were the main thing: so many childrens' books, each one carefully inscribed as the property of either Lily or Petunia. A few of Lily's books were actually Hogwarts textbooks for the first few years; technically, they had broken the Statute of Secrecy having muggle workmen pack those up. Harry regarded Lily's books as unquestionably his; he would put Petunia's in a separate box - no, two boxes. One, books that might be suitable for Dudley, and the other for books that were too young for him. There were some ornaments and several pairs of bookends that might have been Lily's or Petunia's; Harry had no way of knowing. The various framed certificates at least had the relevant child's name on. Petunia had won an egg-and-spoon race, once, at Cokeworth C of E Primary School Sports Day. Lily had won a three-legged race... with Severus Snape. He rubbed his eyes and blinked; it was still there. Severus Snape and Lily Evans, in the summer of 1970, had teamed up for a Muggle sporting competition. Severus Snape had attended Cokeworth C of E Primary School. Harry opened the 1970 album, flicked through it to the summer, slowed down. And there they were. Snape aged nine or ten was shorter than Harry's mother; she was radiant and grass-stained, her arm flung around his shoulders, while he was attempting a version of the glower Harry was so familiar with; but here it looked unconvincing. Harry was sure, looking at the photo, that he had been quite proud to have won, even if he hadn't wanted to admit it for some reason.

They were almost done with the attic, when Apprentice Jones came to fetch Harry and the twins for the last stages of the ward transfer. The new wardstones for the tent were linked to Harry; the old wardstones from the house, mostly decoupled from it now, were reconnected to Harry and to the twins, the nature of the link and the protection it provided being rewritten. A faint and murky foulness, a background hum one didn't notice until it stopped, seemed to be dissipating. The old and new wardstones were connected; Wardmaster Abbott carried them through the tent, intending to place them into the pockets. Wardmaster Grolnok and Bloodward Expert Stonejaw followed, with Wardmaster Grolnok holding up what seemed to Harry to be a large sheet of tinted glass; threads of magic were visible through it that couldn't otherwise be seen, and he would occasionally reach out and stroke one to soothe it if it hummed angrily. But when he entered the bedroom to access the corner pocket, he was visibly perturbed by something. A series of quick hand signals flashed. The stones went into the pockets; and Wardmaster Abbott and Apprentice Jones sent simultaneous jets of red light from their wands towards the dog.

"What was that about?" asked Harry indignantly.

"The dog's an animagus," said Wardmaster Abbott. "I take it you didn't know? No? Very suspicious. We can discuss what to do with him once we've finished the warding job; the Stunners just mean he'll stay put until we're ready." They returned to peeling off unnecessary layers of warding; the owl ward in particular had to go.

"Final stage now," said the Blood Ward Expert. "The children understand spoken speech, yes? But perhaps not the most complex concepts?" Harry nodded. "The last step is to establish an understanding that the tent is your new home now, together with them." The goblin glanced around, seeming unimpressed. "Do you not have furniture?"

"Loads," said Harry, "but it's shrunken in my family vault, and I'm not allowed to withdraw it until after I claim Head of House."

"Nursery furniture? Toys?"

"Aunt Petunia's letting me take some of the stuff in the house," said Harry, blankly. He was sure he was missing the point somewhere. "Dobby's been helping me pack. He's a house-elf." The goblin rolled his eyes.

"Then you get your Dobby to bring as much of it down here as you can, unpack, make it look home-like. So they don't need to imagine this place as a home. So they can see it. Am I clear now?"

"Yes, thank you, sir," said Harry meekly. "I'll do that." Dobby had already materialised behind Harry, and was snapping his fingers. Once for the wardrobe; the bookcase; the changing table-cum-chest-of-drawers. Clothes streamed out of boxes and back into their places; books went back onto the shelves. A few other toys were placed on the living-room floor; child-sized crockery was laid out on the kitchen work-surface (in the absence of a table); bath-toys went into the bathroom. The other boxes of stuff that Harry was definitely keeping were piled up in his bedroom. Finally they were ready. Harry took the girls' hands, and brought them in from the garden to the tent.

"Daisy, Dahlia, look," he said. "Isn't this a nice tent?" They regarded him owlishly.

"Big tent," said Dahlia.

"Toys," said Daisy.

"Harry here," said Dahlia.

"Dobby here," said Daisy.

"No Mummy."

"No Daddy."

"No, no Mummy and Daddy," said Harry. "Your Mummy and Daddy are mean to us. We're going to have a nice home without them."

"No Duddy?"

"Duddy not mean."

"Dudley can visit. He won't live here, but we can see him sometimes, and we can write him letters, and he'll write to us. Dudley told me you're still his sisters, and he still cares about you. But you'll be staying with me."

"Okay."

"Stay wiv Harry."

"This is our new home now," Harry said. "We're going to live here, for the time being. This is the living room, and this is your bedroom, with your toys, and this is my room, and this is Dobby's room, and this is the spare room, and this is the bathroom. And we can move the tent, put our new home wherever we like, wherever suits us. But whatever we decide to do in the future, we'll always have a home to go to."

"Home," said Daisy.

"New home," said Dahlia, and there was a flash of light, and all the warders were smiling. "Where cot?"

"Your cots are still in your old nursery," said Harry. "Remember when we counted the dresses, and put your favourite toys on one side? You're going to stay there tonight, and tomorrow night, and the day after that I'm coming back for you, and you'll never have to go back there again, ever."

"Want to stay here now," said Daisy.

"Want cot here now," said Dahlia.

"Not want day after tomorrow."

"Want today."

"I want today too," said Harry, feeling rather desperate, "but I can't. I have things to do to keep you safe. I won't be able to look after you properly until I've done them. I'll do the things, and then come back for you, as soon as I can." This did not stave off the screaming tantrum, complete with accidental magic, toys flying everywhere in a whirlwind. The warders backed away, with Wardmaster Abbott levitating the dog, which was now in a full body-bind as well as stunned.

Eventually, the girls cried themselves to sleep, and Harry set them down on his futon, with Dobby to keep an eye on them, and snuck out of the tent to join the warders on the lawn.

"Powerful little things," said Apprentice Jones, cheerfully. "No need to worry about their Hogwarts letters not coming. Good lungs, too."

"Thanks," said Harry, smiling. "Was that flash of light the last of the ward transfer?"

"Bar a bit of fine-tuning, yes," said Wardmaster Abbott, "and we did that while you were still inside. We're setting up an owl-ward like the previous one, separate from the blood-wards, and with a permissions scroll you can alter yourself; if, in the future, you want to be able to correspond with strangers, you can replace it with a different owl-ward system via Gringotts or any competent warder, at any time you wish, for a suitable fee. Stand here while we finalise it. Right, done. Here's your scroll."

"So the Dursley house is completely magic-free now?" asked Harry. "Nothing left? Everything will transfer with the tent?"

"Pretty much," said Apprentice Jones. "There's always the residue that builds up when magicals live anywhere, especially young magicals who don't have proper control of their magic. But there's nothing active attached to the property now. Nothing meaningful."

"We could do purification and essence collection, for a bit extra," said Wardmaster Grolnok. "Stop people getting hold of your hair and toenail clippings to use in Polyjuice, or for rituals." They duly negotiated the fee. Petunia grumpily conceded to step out of the front door for a few minutes; it was worth it to have the house 'properly cleansed of all that nonsense.' And Grolnok's comment about the 'ominous amount of magical blood residue in the cupboard under the stairs' were nothing to her. After that, she was reluctant to let Daisy and Dahlia back inside; and so the cots, toys, clothing, high-chairs and pushchair made their way into the back garden, through strictly non-magical means. (Harry got the heavy end.) Petunia agreed to let Harry keep the tent there until the evening of the 2nd of August, and even promised not to enter it unless there was an emergency. If any of the neighbours or house-viewers asked about the tent, she would tell them that her son Dudley was going on a camping holiday later in the month, and had wanted to practice. And Dobby was delighted to start his full-time work early.