======= Part 47. Potter's family and dirty little secrets ==========
The summer heat of 1995 was exhausting Harry. His aunt's roses were drying up in the high temperatures, and Petunia Dursley was very concerned about their health. All her indignation was directed at her nephew, who, in her opinion, was not watering the flowers properly and was not taking enough care of the garden in general.
"Do it more often," she shouted indignantly, "you good-for-nothing boy. And don't forget to loosen the soil under the bushes!"
Her husband Vernon, a fat man the size of an elephant, also loved to reproach Harry at every opportunity. He was annoyed by the very presence of an extra mouth in the family. But what infuriated Mr. Dursley most was any mention of the boy's magical abilities, that dirty little secret that hung like a sword of Damocles over the respectable and perfectly ordinary family. When both children were very young, curtains were constantly catching fire, dishes were flying through the air, and milk bottles were exploding. All of this could easily have ended in someone's death. Of course, the unfortunate Dursleys eventually got used to living as if on a powder keg with a lit fuse, but it was no fun. Both Vernon and Petunia constantly exploded at any sign of abnormality in their home.
Harry Potter's cousin, Dudley, had always viewed his relative as a servant or a broken toy that could be abused with impunity. How could it be otherwise when a child regularly witnessed his parents' poor treatment of his brother? Moreover, by framing Harry, it was easy to cover up his own misdeeds with the boy's abnormality. So, at the age of five, Dudley climbed onto a sideboard to retrieve a toy that had flown upstairs and accidentally knocked over a precious vase that had been left to his mother by her parents, who had died in an accident. Imagining the beating he would get for this, Dudley said that Potter was to blame for everything. Without even trying to find out what had happened, his parents gave the bespectacled weakling a thorough beating and locked him in the cupboard under the stairs for the rest of the day. From then on, Dudley regularly used this method to solve his childhood problems.
Naturally, all of the fat boy's friends adopted his attitude towards his brother and tried to humiliate him at every opportunity, both at primary school and in the park, where all the children usually spent their free time. Since there wasn't much entertainment for teenagers in the small town of Little Winging, the park was a regular hangout for Dudley and the other kids. Over the years, the nimble four-eyes had become good at running and hiding, so hunting him down was a great way for the local gang to have fun. Of course, the young gangsters had grown up, but no one was going to give up their favourite pastime.
Today, the group of boys were smoking and playing cards, sitting on benches near the horizontal bars.
"Big D!" said Dudley's rat-like friend, Piers Polkiss. "Is your idiot brother back from that school for the alternatively gifted?"
In order to avoid answering curious neighbours about where Potter had disappeared to after being taken to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Dudley's parents spread rumours among their neighbours that the boy was attending a closed boarding school for mentally disabled children, for which they were paying out of the goodness of their hearts. The neighbours were sympathetic to this news, as they had often seen the skinny, dirty, and periodically beaten boy in ragged clothes that didn't fit him, and willy-nilly perceived him as some kind of abnormal and possibly even dangerous hooligan.
"Do you miss him, Pierce?" Dudley grunted. He was on a roll and in a great mood.
"Of course," Polkiss giggled in response. "It's been a long time since we beat up a four-eyed idiot. Right, guys?" The rest of the gang burst into agreement.
"Alas, boys," sighed Big D sincerely, who loved nothing more than chasing the four-eyed weakling into a doorway. "His mother made him watch her roses, and his father put him to work cleaning out the garage. There's a lot of junk that's accumulated over the past year. The only place we can catch the idiot is on his way home when his mother sends him to the supermarket to do the shopping.
The group perked up and immediately began making plans on where to catch Potter so he couldn't get away.
In the evening, Dudley said goodbye to his friends and headed home to Tisoe Street. As he left the park, he almost bumped into Potter, whom they had been talking about earlier that day. Harry was dragging a bag full of groceries from the shop, panting and red-faced from the effort.
"Need some help?" Potter looked hopefully at his well-fed brother.
"Oh, come on," snorted Dudley. "You were told to carry it yourself.
Sighing, Harry dragged himself on, and the fat boy followed, enjoying watching his brother struggle with the heavy bag. About halfway down Magnolia Street, there was a side street leading to Tissou Street. High fences on one side and the back wall of garages on the other were all that could be seen in the dim light of two street lamps. Exchanging glances, they both stepped into the alley, neither wanting to walk around half the block. Harry, dragging the bag, and Dudley, walking light, had covered about half the distance when the glass in one of the streetlights shattered and it grew darker... And much colder...
"What the hell!" Dudley cursed. "Your tricks again, Potter?"
Harry didn't answer, staring wide-eyed at the two dark figures of Dementors gliding towards them from the darkened street.
"Potter, stop it, stop it," said Dudley tensely, feeling his teeth begin to chatter from the cold and fear. "Stop your magic, you bloody idiot!" he yelled, backing away from Harry, straight towards the Dementors.
"Stop, Dudley," Potter cried, watching as the Dementors quickened their pace, and grabbed his wand.
Seeing Harry's aggressive actions, the fat boy ran away as fast as he could, straight into the arms of the nightmarish creatures. A few metres before reaching the flying monsters, the chubby teenager stumbled and fell face down on the ground, losing consciousness. The creatures paid no attention to him, eager to get to Potter, but he had already waved his wand furiously in front of him and shouted at the top of his voice:
"Expecto Patronum!"
A silver stag leapt out of Harry's wand right in front of him, and the Dementors rustled upwards, fleeing from the ghostly defender. There was a smell of death, but the fierce light of the Patronus instantly dispelled the unpleasant sensation.
Potter ran to his brother lying on the asphalt and struggled to turn his heavy body over. At first glance, Dursley had no injuries, except for a broken nose from the fall.
"Dudley, Dudley," Potter urged him. "Get up, big D."
"I'm cold," he said, his teeth chattering. "It's so cold. What did you do to me, you damn wizard?"
"It wasn't me," Harry protested. "It was the Dementors — creatures that suck out souls — they attacked us.
"Don't lie to me, Potter, you did it!" Dudley's eyes looked everywhere but in front of him, and he slowly began to get up from the ground. "You cursed me for not helping you carry your bag, you nasty wizard. I'll tell Dad," Dudley growled, wiping the blood from his nose. With difficulty, the fat boy pushed his brother away and headed home. He swayed from side to side and, after taking only a few steps, collapsed again. Gathering the scattered groceries back into the bag, Harry managed to help Dudley to his feet and, supporting the fat boy who was swaying like a drunken sailor, headed home. Blood from his nose, which had been broken on the asphalt, splattered all over the fat boy's shirt, and he now looked like the victim of a mugging.
When they burst into the house and Auntie saw the state of her beloved son, she let out such a scream that Harry thought he was going to go deaf. At first, Vernon almost lunged at Potter, thinking that he had beaten Dudley. Then, upon hearing about magic, the man went completely berserk, and only his aunt's hysterical screams stopped him from immediately taking revenge on his hated nephew.
A few minutes later, there was a knock on the window, and two owls flew in and dropped a letter. The first letter hit Vernon on the head, opened the mouth that appeared on the surface of the envelope, and announced in a beautiful female voice that, due to a violation of the magical laws prohibiting witchcraft among Muggles, Mr Potter was summoned to appear before the Wizengamot for the deprivation of his wand for a flagrant violation of the Statute of Secrecy.
Vernon snorted maliciously, rubbing his head and blushing like a tomato again, and with a sigh of relief ordered him to pack his things and get out of their family for good. At that moment, the second letter, lying quietly on the table, also flew into the air, and a soft, elderly voice said:
"Remember your vow, Petunia. The boy must live in your home until he is sixteen.
Mrs. Dursley sniffed, shook her head, and looked at her husband, and Vernon deflated like a balloon.
"Go to your room, you good-for-nothing boy," the fat man said dejectedly, "and don't let me see you again.
Petunia had hated her sister all these years for setting her up with the child. A witch, how could she... Just as stupid as her son, always bragging about her magic. Oh, how Petunia envied her! What beautiful flowers she could have grown with her magical gift. But alas, this miracle, all this magic, all this enchantment, for some reason went to her younger sister, the little bitch who was always loved a little more by their parents. The older they got, the deeper the rift between them grew.
When her sister and her husband died, their son was left on Petunia's doorstep by wizards. At that time, the Dursleys' family was already falling apart. Dudley was born a very weak child with a hereditary heart defect, which his father also had, and a host of other problems. Vernon spent a week in intensive care, not knowing whether their firstborn would survive, and then he also ended up in hospital with a massive heart attack. Petunia had only brought her loved ones home from the hospital a month earlier.
She certainly did not need another crying baby with a constantly bleeding scar on his forehead. Due to his illness, Vernon was unable to work, and the family was threatened with poverty. So Petunia put the Potter baby in a cradle and took him to the nearest orphanage. Imagine her surprise when a stately, grey-bearded old man found her in the reception room of the orphanage and asked her to leave her nephew with him. In response to the angry woman's reasonable objections, the wizard promised to cure the heart problems of both her men if Harry lived at the Dursleys' house until he was sixteen.
Petunia agreed and returned with the baby, and a few days later, her sister's former neighbour and old friend came to visit. A dirty-haired man with a disgusted expression on his face took two crystal vials out of his pocket and handed them to Petunia.
"The bigger one is for your husband, Pat," the wizard ordered, curling his lips into a nasty grimace. "And the smaller one is for your son.
Petunia did as she was told. After that, both Vernon and Dudley's health problems disappeared completely and forever. Despite his excess weight and sedentary lifestyle, Vernon never suffered from shortness of breath again and showed a perfectly healthy heart during routine check-ups.
Petunia couldn't be happier, watching Dudley grow older and more handsome. Her son didn't even know that he had had huge problems as a baby and could have died before he was even a year old. That's why she and her husband had humbly endured Potter's spontaneous witchcraft all these years, but everything is forgotten, the tension is growing, and the Dursleys' patience is running out. So sometimes, after particularly violent scandals, when the worthless Potter got his comeuppance for all his dangerous actions with magic, an owl would arrive and the wizard's voice from the envelope would remind them of the promise they had once made. And now, the Dursleys sighed sadly, treated their son's face with iodine once more, and went to bed.
***
Fortunately, at the trial, Harry was not stripped of his wand and expelled from Hogwarts. The trial was more like a farce, especially with the unpleasant, shrill woman in a pink dress trying hard to accuse Harry and not letting him get a word in edgewise. Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived, albeit late, and completely demolished all her arguments. Harry was acquitted and looked triumphantly at the grimacing woman in pink.
"Come on, my boy," Albus said, putting his arm around the teenager's shoulders and leading him out of the Ministry.
"Sir, can I go to the Weasleys?" Harry asked. "I can't live with the Dursleys anymore. It gets worse every year. They hate me for no reason, I live there like a house elf. They think I'm crazy!"
Dumbledore shook his head.
"Ronald's father is missing, and their family artefact indicates that he is dead. They don't need you right now, my boy.
Harry shuddered and stared at the headmaster in horror, numb with shock.
"But it's really dangerous for you to stay with the Dursleys," Dumbledore continued. "The Dark Lord is gaining strength. Not long ago, a group of his most loyal followers escaped from Azkaban. I've made arrangements with Augusta Longbottom for you to live with her. You get along well with her grandson, don't you?"
"Yes, Professor," Harry muttered thoughtfully. "Neville and I are friends."
"That's wonderful, my boy," smiled the old man into his beard. "I've cast the Fidelius spell on Augusta's estate, and none of the Death Eaters will be able to get to you there. In three weeks, you'll be heading to Hogwarts, and you'll see Ronald and all your other friends again.
***
Molly sat in the kitchen drinking tea. Her usual cooking routine usually put her in a good mood, but now it only annoyed her. When the hand of the clock indicating Arthur's health also turned grey, it was as if a string had snapped inside her. Now she mechanically raised the cup to her lips and felt nothing but a strange sense of relief at her husband's death. It was as if a person who had been living blindfolded had suddenly opened their eyes and seen the light. In her youth, she had had so many paths to choose from, so many opportunities, so much... Molly didn't know how she could have wasted her life like that.
"Love is blind!" she whispered, brushing away a single tear from the corner of her eye.
Putting down her cup, the woman looked out the window and saw her children happily clearing the yard of garden gnomes. The gnomes squealed as they flew over the fence, the teenagers competed to see who could knock down the most magical parasites, and Ginny kept score.
"Children," Molly called out after admiring the cheerful commotion for a moment, "when you're done, wash your hands and come to the kitchen. We have something important to discuss."
While the children continued to entertain themselves, she quickly prepared dinner, and when everyone burst into the kitchen, the woman was already pouring soup for everyone. The twins immediately rushed to their plates, pushing Ronald aside, while Ginny slowly sat down next to her mother.
"Where are you rushing off to?" Ron muttered indignantly, while Fred and George immediately snatched the plate of roast beef from under his nose.
After eating, the children stared intently at their mother, who put her fork aside and said:
"Grandmother Muriel suggests we return to the Prewetts. As you know, they are an ancient magical family renowned for their fire wizards. And for you, boys," she looked at Fred and George, "Aunt Muriel suggests that after you join the family, you help her open a shop on Diagon Alley. A shop selling all kinds of magical gadgets was the ultimate dream of the enterprising twins. The brothers' eyes lit up with joy, and they immediately agreed. They didn't care what their name was: Weasley or Prewett, the main thing was that their long-held dream was coming true.
The younger son, who had been chewing silently, looked up from his plate.
"So I'll be the head of the Weasley family?" Ron looked at his mother excitedly.
"Son, this is very dangerous right now," Molly shook her head. "Someone from an ancient family has made it their goal to wipe out the Weasleys completely. Your father and three of your brothers have been killed. If even Dumbledore himself cannot protect us, it will be better for everyone if the Weasley family disappears.
"And what will I be then?" Ron asked his mother angrily. "The youngest brother who gets nothing. Won Jin will marry and change her name. Fred and George will inherit the Prewett family, and me? No, Mum, that won't do! I will be the head of the Weasley family, like Grandpa Septimus. He was also the youngest son.
"He was the seventh," giggled Ginny, spreading her fingers wide. "Maybe I should be head of the Weasley family."
Ron glared at his sister:
"You're a Potter in the making," he shouted heatedly, nearly knocking over his plate. "After school, you can grab him by the scruff of his neck and drag him to the Ministry to register!"
"Well, nothing's certain yet," Molly smiled. "Maybe your sister will like a completely different boy. Harry is a kind and funny boy, but he's being hunted by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
"Harry will kill him," Ron said solemnly. "He's a national hero, it can't be any other way.
The twins burst out laughing, playfully nudging their brother.
"And sitting at the same table with us is a great friend of the Dark Lord's conqueror. Oh, our lord, the great Lord Ronnypops.
"Fools!" Ron blushed and flew out from the table. "Go on, all of you! But now I'm the head of the Weasley family!"
Molly looked seriously at her daughter and said:
"Ginny, only you will have to marry according to the full magical ritual, unlike your father and me. We had a ministerial marriage, which means that I am still a Prewett by blood. If they are hunting the Weasleys specifically, and not just our family, then you must marry into another family. This means that your future husband must be from a magical family that has an altar stone.
"But wasn't the Prewett altar destroyed during the war with the Death Eaters?" Ginny asked in surprise. "What about Fred and George?"
"Muriel will perform the ritual at Gringotts," Molly shrugged. "Every family vault has a small altar. It was left there on purpose in case the magical family was completely destroyed. Even if a worthy heir is found a hundred years from now, everything can be restored.
The children pondered the situation, while Molly began washing the plates.
***
Lucius came to his senses for the second time in his own manor. There was no darkness, no yellow eyes, no feeling of a powerful magical source. It was quiet, peaceful and homely. He was lying in his own bed, and the wind carried the fresh scent of flowers through the window. "Now I'm also a boy who survived," Lucius smiled to himself, remembering the green flash of Avada.
Sitting up carefully on the bed, he began to examine himself closely. At first glance, nothing had changed: there was nothing noticeable on his chest where the spell had hit. Taking a towel, Lucius headed for the shower and realised with amazement that his leg didn't hurt at all and bent easily. No, the old injury had never caused him any significant discomfort before, but now his knee didn't hurt at all.
Lucius felt his leg in surprise, then examined his knee carefully, but saw no scars anywhere, although he knew for sure that the spell Moody had cast on him in Gloucester was far from benign. Looking at himself more closely, Lucius didn't notice any old scars at all; his body looked like new.
"Like new?!" A sudden thought flashed through his mind.
Before leaving for Switzerland to join his wife, his eldest son had given him an artefact stone and asked Malfoy to pour all his magical power into it. He then asked if there was enough fresh blood from himself and his other relatives stored in stasis. He had asked Narcissa to do the same with the stone in a letter when his strange bird, the whale-headed creature, flew to them in France. Now grown larger than an eagle, Bora brought them the magical stone and the letter.
When Lucius asked through the two-way mirror why his eldest son needed it, he joked that it was just insurance, and that Merlin would never need it because he had no desire to create a second Sahara in the middle of England. Lucius didn't understand what the desert had to do with anything, but out of a deep-rooted habit of trusting his loved ones, he didn't ask any questions. The eldest was keeping some kind of secret — let him be, maybe he was preparing a surprise. "Morgana, my mother-in-law is coming, and this is quite a surprise," Lucius said, leaning against the wall, his face pale. "Did he bring me back to life?"
After quickly rinsing himself off, Lucius hurriedly but carefully got dressed, making sure not to forget any details, and went out into the living room, where the whole family was already waiting for him at the table. When he came down the stairs, Narcissa, who had been nervously crumpling her handkerchief, jumped up, knocking over a chair, and with a superhuman scream threw herself into his arms and clung to him so tightly that it seemed as if his bones would crunch.
"He's alive!" she whispered in his ear, unable to break free from her embrace.
Lucius gently set her down on the floor and smiled at the children, who had also gathered around, ready to rush into his arms.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Lucius smiled crookedly and somewhat confusedly, and both sons immediately squeezed him from all sides.
Only after a minute did everyone manage to break free, and the family sat down at the table. The taste of the food prepared today was so sweet to Lucius that he savoured every bite as if he were eating it for the first time. At first, the conversation was awkward, but then it became more lively, until, after a few minutes of chaotic questions, everyone turned their questioning glances to Cassius.
The eldest son was his usual self, a little aloof, but a slight smile kept playing on his lips.
"I can't tell you anything, the secrets are under oath," Cassius said, putting his hands up in a defensive gesture. "But if one of you three dies, I have a chance to bring the deceased back. However, I don't know if Hogwarts will be destroyed in the process," Cassius smiled crookedly. "I passed out right after the ritual and didn't see what happened next, and Basileus won't say anything, just hisses disapprovingly."
"Basileus?" Draco asked in surprise.
"Yeah," his brother smiled serenely. "It's Salazar Slytherin's basilisk, my familiar since recently.
"The basilisk of Salazar Slytherin, a familiar..." muttered the stunned relatives.
Cassius just nodded and smiled at everyone:
"After the ritual that brought you back to life, my father, that snake, demanded that we perform the familiar ritual. He said that in case anything happened, a wizard would never kill his familiar, but would protect it instead. We exchanged blood, I recited the necessary spells, and then passed out again. That's why I was gone for so long. By the way, did you feel that the curse has weakened even more?"
Narcissa nodded with a smile, while Draco shook his head in confusion.
"I felt some movement of magic inside, some relief, but I didn't know if it was related to the family curse.
The other family members exchanged knowing glances.
"You'll find out when you grow up," Narcissa said, flicking her younger brother's nose.
"Oh, you always say that, but I'm almost sixteen, you know... Next year," Draco pouted pretentiously.
Lucius laughed good-naturedly, looking lovingly at his family.
"Of course, you're almost a grown man, son, it's time to look for a bride," he began with exaggerated seriousness, but couldn't resist and burst out laughing again.
"Oh, not your jokes again," Draco grabbed a glass of juice and hid his blushing face behind it.
Black watched his cheerful father and embarrassed brother with tenderness. He watched as a happy Narcissa, her hand under her cheek, looked at them with a sly smile. His heart warmed at the feeling of closeness with his family. Not caring about all the complications and the possible magical disaster at Hogwarts, Cassius did not regret for a second that he had risked bringing his father back to life. The warmth he felt when interacting with his family was the most important thing in his short life, and Cassius selfishly wished that it would last as long as possible.
***
Voldemort calmly paced in front of the kneeling Death Eaters. Light from the tall arched windows of the grand hall of Parkinson Manor fell on their emaciated faces. Voldemort grimaced angrily as he looked down at the bowed Death Eaters. All those he had pulled out of Azkaban over the past thirteen years had noticeably lost their magical powers. It took six months to a year to restore them to their former form. Now, his elite fighters looked more like ruins than the men with whom he had sometimes gone on raids. "Any senior Hogwarts student could wipe the floor with them now," the Dark Lord gritted his teeth viciously.
"All right, my loyal servants," he raised his voice. "Stay quiet for now. The former prisoners are recovering, so return to your estates, heal yourselves, and wait for my call. Don't go anywhere — that's an order!"
After rolling his feet back and forth a few times, he glanced at Parkinson.
"Has Little Malfoyish been here?"
The estate owner paled and shook his head, his angry expression making his half-reptilian face even more repulsive.
"Bellatrix," Voldemort looked at the bowed, half-grey head.
"Yes, my lord!" the woman replied in a voice full of adoration, without raising her head.
"When you have recovered a little, invite your sister to talk. I think she will be glad to see you. And when she arrives, give her my message: if her son does not come to me, she risks being left alone. Do you understand me, my dear?"
"Yes, my lord," Bellatrix replied without a shadow of doubt.