A Responsible Adult

“He does not belong in the normal world.”

Steve Adams came to understand very quickly that number four, Privet Drive, was a terrible place. He had hoped the conversation with Harry’s aunt would be, at the very least, productive. But she was a vile, vindictive woman. He was afraid that it was only going to get worse from here on out.

“That does not justify—”

“Justify what, exactly? What am I being accused of in my own home? The boy is fed. He has a roof over his head,” Petunia lashed out, her words short and sour.

“Raising a child requires—”

“Raising a child? What does his world know about raising a child?”

“They know better—”

“They dumped him on our doorstep in the cold and expected us to care for him without even consulting with us beforehand. So, I’m supposed to stand here and be criticized by the likes of you when his own kind could not even properly care for him?”

Steve had no response. He averted her gaze. His eyes were fixed on the dull wallpaper. He had done his research. He collected every bit of available information on the story of Harry Potter. From the fateful day he unknowingly defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to the rumors of his Muggle upbringing in this house, Steve had tried his best to put together the tale of the famous young wizard.

It was one thing to read about a story. It was another thing entirely to put yourself into it.

But the bars on the window were the final detail he needed. There was enough information for him to reasonably assume how terribly Harry Potter was treated by his aunt and uncle.

Petunia adjusted her blouse and finally shot a glance at him. It was the first time they made eye contact since the start of their conversation. “I don’t care if you are from some silly so-called government, I think it’s time for you to leave.”

“His school supplies,” Steve tried to reel the conversation back to a civil place, “Does he have everything he needs for next year?”

She snorted back to him, “That’s none of my concern.”

He wanted to scream at her, but he knew that was not a winning strategy. He stood up tall and tried to collect himself. There was one thing this woman wanted. Steve just needed the courage to speak it.

The story of Harry Potter was an on-going one. He was attacked by Professor Quirrell. His wife (who was still at work and completely unaware of his and Sarah’s daytime excursion to Little Whinging) said the official reports stated possession, but whoever possessed Quirrell still remained a mystery. There were dark rumors, of course. If they were true, what he was about to do could have devastating consequences.

What kind of father would he be if he did anything to put his daughter at risk? What sort of husband would bring danger upon his wife?

For just a moment, he considered calling Sarah down and leaving young Harry alone. That would ensure his family stayed far away from the danger that followed Harry. That would have been the smartest course of action in the name of self-preservation

But what sort of man would he be if he could not risk danger to help an abused child? What sort of example would he set for his daughter if he left Harry here, stuck living as a prisoner? How could he call himself an advocate for children when he was even contemplating about turning his back on the one who needed him most?

You’ll help him, Dad. Won’t you?

Steve stepped forward and locked eyes with the vile woman across the sitting room. With all of his might, he summoned a smile onto his face. “Well, that’s no problem. School begins in just three weeks. My wife and I would love to invite Harry to stay with us until school begins. We’ll even make sure that he gets everything he needs and gets to school safely.”

“Fine,” the woman’s immediate response shocked him, but she was the one looking away now “You can take him.”

Her words struck a nerve, and Steve could not keep the smiling charade up, “I cannot take him,” he corrected her, “He’s a person, not an object.”

Steve stepped away from her quickly to avoid her angered gaze. He yelled up to Harry and his daughter. After a moment, Sarah and a short, black-haired boy stopped halfway down the staircase to greet him.

“You must be Harry,” Steve put back on his smile, “I’m Sarah’s father, Steve. It’s a pleasure. You can call me Mr. Adams.”

The boy shaking his hand was frail and awkward. Nobody ever taught him how to shake a hand proper. His clothes were ill-fighting and baggy. It was obvious no comb had ever been pulled through his messy hair. His eyes observed Steve behind crooked glasses.

“Err… nice to meet you, sir.”

Steve quickly glanced at Petunia, who seemed to have stepped as far away as possible and was simply observing in silent contempt. He looked back to his daughter and Harry who shared perplexed looks.

“I’m told you still need your supplies for next year, is that right?”

Harry nodded in response. Sarah’s eyebrows raised as she caught on to what his plan was. Steve smiled at both of them, trying his best to ignore the woman lurking across the room. “Well, we would not mind if you came and stayed with us until the school year begins. We can visit Diagon Alley. You can go flying in the garden behind our house as much as you’d like. Would you want to stay with us?”

Harry’s face lit up and he looked back and forth between himself and Sarah. “Really?” he asked with a curious grin forming on his lips, “I can stay with you?”

“Only if you want to,” Steve smiled, “Any friend of Sarah’s is welcome in our home.”

As if the boy suddenly had some dark realization, he turned his head away from them and towards his aunt who had still not spoken a word. Any joy had evaporated from his face.

“Don’t worry,” Steve got his attention with a slowly placed hand on his shoulder. He lowered his voice just a bit as he spoke, “We’ve got permission. It’s up to you if you want to join us for the rest of your summer.”

“Yes,” Harry nodded, “That would be brilliant.”

Steve laughed and pointed upstairs, “It’s settled then. Sarah, go help Harry with his things. Bring them down and we’ll pack the car and be on our way.”

The two children disappeared upstairs again. Steve was left only with the consequences of what he had just done and a nasty woman who would not stop staring at him from across the room.

Helping an obviously malnourished boy escape a house with unloving and uncaring so-called guardians, even if only for a few weeks, was simply the right thing to do.

But even for a wizard, Harry Potter was more than just a boy. Steve was now a part of whatever was unfolding, and he had brought his daughter and wife into it.

His mind was racing with a thousand thoughts of what to do next. He had questions, and unfortunately there was only one person who he could ask at this moment.

“You said they left him in the cold, on the doorstep,” his eyes wandered across the room to the silent observer. “Who left him? Did they ever tell you anything about his situation?”

“Albus Dumbledore,” she answered harshly, “He left a letter.”

“What did it say?” Steve asked, thinking about what the thought process was behind how Harry was left in this terrible place.

“That my sister and her husband had been killed. That the safest place for that boy would be here because—”

Clunk! Clunk! Clunk!

Steve turned to see his daughter carrying a cage with a disgruntled white owl in one hand and a broomstick in the other. Harry was a few paces behind her, struggling with a heavy trunk.

“We’re ready!” Sarah exclaimed loudly.

Steve moved to take the trunk from Harry and motioned to the boy to show them the way out. The young wizard looked towards his aunt. She gave a shooing motion with her hands. That was the way Petunia Dursley treated her nephew, her family. It made Steve’s blood boil. He was never envious of magic, but in that moment he wished he had a wand— there were quite a few curses he knew that the woman deserved to be on the receiving end of.

This was not about that. Not yet. Justice, and maybe even revenge, could come later. There was something more important: getting Harry as far away from this place as possible.

“Come along then, Harry. Show us the way. We can get a bite to eat on the way back to Tutshill.”

Before Steve followed his daughter and Harry outside, he turned one last time to Petunia. “This isn’t over.” The woman scowled at him and crossed her arms. “I’ll be in touch,” he said sternly.

Steve Adams slammed the door to number four, Privet Drive, as hard as he could on the way out.   

The Ford Escort pulled into the parking lot for the pub on the side of the road. “This place has the best fish-and-chips,” her father said from the front seat, “How’s that sound, Harry?”

“Great,” Harry responded.

Sarah shuffled uncomfortably in her seat next to him. It was one thing to help rescue Harry, but now that he was here in their car with her father— it felt strange. She was not exactly friends with Harry or Ron. She shared a dorm with Hermione and sat next to each other in a few classes, but they were just friendly with one another.

“Lavender says they call these places chippies,” Sarah said, trying to say something to join the conversation.

“A chippy? That’s what they call a tavern?”

“A place that has fish-and-chips. My cousin hates them, so we never get to go much,” Harry answered her father.

“A chippy. That means something else back home.”

“What does it mean?” Sarah asked her father with a smile.

“You can ask your mother about that one. We’re foreigners in a stranger land, Harry. We’re still learning new things about how it’s done across the pond, let alone in the Wizarding World.”

Harry looked at Sarah for the first time since they got in the car. “Has it been difficult? You know, coming over here. I imagine it must be.”

Sarah nodded at him and smiled, “Well, at first it was. It was just my Mom and Dad for a whole summer. I didn’t have any friends here. But once I got to Hogwarts, it got better.”

He nodded at her, “I know the feeling. When did you, you know, find out?”

“This one here always had strange things happening to her,” her dad started as he finished parking the car. He turned back around in his seat and smiled at her, “She’d end up out of her crib at night. A stuffed animal I swear we put in the closet she’d be snuggled up with in the morning. Things like that. It was all strange until it was obvious. I used to hide sweets up on top of the fridge. She caught on and was complaining because she wanted me to bring the bowl down for her. Imagine my response when after telling her now, the bowl comes levitating down to her!”

All three of them laughed together. Sarah remembered it happening, but she did not feel like she was the one who caused it. Accidental magic could be like that, she learned shortly after.

“Im sure your mum was surprised as well,” Harry said.

“Nope. Mom is a witch. Only Dad is a muggle.”

“Oh,” Harry raised his eyebrows, “She never told you about… until that happened?”

The car was painfully silent for a moment. Sarah also remembered the fighting. Her parents tried their best to hide it from her. Late at night, arguing in whispers while she sat at the top of the stairs. “We have to do what’s best for Sarah,” she heard her mother say.

She reflected on what her father responded with. “Our house, our jobs, our lives. Jesus, Beth. We are going to have to give up everything for this. How could you keep this from me?”

She did not want to speak. Her father looked distraught. She was afraid of those angry words her father spoke coming out with Harry in their car. He turned back to the front. Another moment passed by before her father spoke, “Harry, could I speak with outside for a moment? Sarah, please just wait here until for a bit.”

He opened the door and shut it behind him. Harry looked at her, “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, not at all. I think he just wants to talk to you about… don’t be scared. He just wants to help you.” Sarah was not sure if her reassurances did anything because Harry just continued to stare at her with a blank expression. He sighed, opened the car door, and left Sarah alone.

She watched the two step a bit away from the car, standing in the empty parking lot.

“Harry,” she could hear her father’s deep voice even if it was hardly more than a muffle, “Are you sure you want to stay with us for the rest of your break? It’s your choice, and I know you and Sarah aren’t—”

Harry interrupted him, but Sarah could not make out his voice.

“Right. Well, that settles it, then. I’m glad you’ll be joining us. Can I ask you something Harry?” There was another break and Sarah imagined Harry was speaking. She avoided looking at them. She tried to look anywhere else, pretending to watch the cars go by on the road next to her.

“Your family, do you like staying with them? You can be honest with me. I won’t tell anyone.”

Harry must have been talking again, and while watching the cars go by Sarah remembered her father speaking to her in much the same way earlier in the year. Her father had come to take her home from Hogwarts for the weekend. She hadn’t made a lot of friends in her first month, only Lavender and Parvati. They liked each other more than they liked Sarah. She did not mind. It was better than having no friends like Hermione did at that time.

But Sarah was worried people would think that it was weird she was going away for the weekend so early in the year.

“Did you see Professor Snape do anything else, Sarah? Or did he do anything to you? You can be honest with me.”

It was a day later they were at the Ministry of Magic. Sarah remembered the strange feeling of a memory being pulled from her head. It felt like a hot, wet slug being pulled through your skin. Madam Bones was the one who did it. Sarah was a bit intimidated by the tall woman.

“I know they are your family, Harry. Just because they are family does not mean they get a pass when they hurt each other.”

Sarah snapped back to their conversation, not being able to resist the urge. She turned to see Harry’s lips moving, but still could not make out what he was saying.

“Alright, then. I just want you to know that if you ever need to tell an adult something, or you need help— I’m going to be around Hogwarts this year. You can come talk to me, write me a letter, or ask Sarah. Does that sound okay to you?”

Harry nodded and her father spoke again, “I’m starving. Let’s go get some food.”

“Do you realize what you’ve done?”

“Elizabeth—”

“Don’t Elizabeth me! I know you’ve been looking into this but Merlin you couldn’t have given me some kind of—”

“He’s only going to be here until school starts.”

“Bloody hell, Steve! This isn’t some random boy from down the street. This is Harry Potter!”

“They were abusing him, Beth.”

The kitchen was quiet, only their daughter’s cheers could be heard from outside as she flew closely behind Harry while taking laps on their brooms in the garden. Steve gulped down hard.

“I realize that, I do.” His wife pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and sat across from him. She took a sip of her tea and let out a deep breath before speaking again, “You don’t just get to make decisions that effect this entire family without consulting me first.”

“Sarah wanted him here. That’s two out of three.”

“You’re not serious? Does our twelve-year-old daughter honestly get equal consideration as me or you when it comes to a decision of this magnitude?”

Beth slammed down her mug onto their kitchen table. Tea sloshed out from one side. Steve stood without speaking and grabbed a towel hanging above their sink. But by the time he turned back to the table, Beth had vanished the spilled drink with a swish of her wand.

“I never had control of any of this,” Steve could not look her in the eye, he turned to stare out the large glass doors that led to the garden as Harry and Sarah darted by on their brooms. He let out a sight before speaking again. “When we found out about Sarah— new school, new country, new car, new home, new world. It all happened before I could even—”

“Don’t try to use that as an excuse for making a decision like this without me,” his wife lashed back him.

“There were bars on his window. Like a prison, Beth. The boy used to sleep in a goddamn cupboard! I’m supposed to sit there and—”

“You are supposed to talk to me before you decide to do something like this!”

It was quiet again, only the muffled yells of joy from his daughter coming from outside. Steve crossed his arms. He was not wrong to save Harry from that vile woman and her monstrous husband, that he knew for sure. “Do you expect me to apologize for saving him?” Steve asked, breaking the silence.

“I expect you to apologize to your wife for making an important decision for this family without her input.”

“And what input did I get when it came to sending Sarah off to that school? That school where teachers and trolls attack students? That school where kids dangle hundreds of feet above the ground on brooms without any sort of protection? The same school where children call each other horrible names because their parents aren’t magical?”

“Steve,” his wife interrupted, “We had a conversation. You don’t get to do this.”

“Do what Beth? I don’t get to be mad because we had to ship Sarah off to some strange place for nine months out of the year, is that right? My daughter, my flesh and blood, alone in some place where a professor humiliates and degrades students? I don’t get to be mad when Harry’s uncle, that disgusting man, looks at my daughter like she’s some kind of freak? I don’t get to be mad that she has to experience that?”

“She’s a witch, Steve! She deserves to learn about her powers—”

“Sarah deserves to be safe! In our house by the lake in Wisconsin, when she was with us, when she went to a regular school, when things were normal—”

“She does not belong in the normal world!”

Steve, in his fury, swiped his hand down hard. Beth’s mug of tea flew across the kitchen and shattered against the wall. He fell down into the chair across from his wife and dug his face into his hands in shame.

Beth stood, towering over him and raised her voice, “You don’t get to excuse yourself from what you did because our daughter is a witch! You don’t get to break our things because you’re too childish to let your feelings be known earlier without bubbling over like you always do!”

“You should have told me,” Steve responded to her quietly, “All those years I spent with you, never knowing…”

The backdoor slide open, and Sarah was standing in the doorway with her broom and a large grin. Her hair was wind-swept and wild.

“Mom? Dad? Did one of you drop your cup? There are sharp pieces everywhere! There’s tea all over!”

“I was just about to vanish it, dear,” his wife started and lied with ease, “Take some water out for you and Harry. Here, I’ll get it for you.”

“Thanks. Dad? Are you alright?”

Steve looked to his daughter and tried his best to compose himself, “Fine, you go have fun. We’ll talk about dinner when you two are done. Alright?”

Their dogs were barking at Harry outside, who hurled a ball across the garden for them to chase. Harry was on his broom again, and soon the dogs were chasing him instead.

“Rover and Lola love Harry. He likes them too! I don’t think he ever had a dog to play with!”

With that, Sarah slid the door shut and left Steve and his wife alone. Beth raised her wand again to clean the shattered glass mug from the floor. Before she could, Steve stood. He took a step towards her and placed his hand on the tip of her wand. He lowered it.

They looked at each other for a moment. Then Steve stepped away from her and grabbed the towel to clean the mess he had made.