Lilypad: Year One

Disclaimer: I have books! Actual, legitimate, published, books. These books are mine, the characters in the books are mine, and the royalties I get from the books are mine. Unfortunately, the Harry Potter series does not fall into either of those categories. I will not be making a single galleon from this work. It is written and meant to be read for pure enjoyment.

Author's Note: Years ago, I had this idea for a fanfiction wherein Regulus took in abandoned children. I posted the first chapter of said fanfiction and then promptly abandoned it—the irony of which is not lost upon me. However, I recently moved to England to start my doctorate, and all I can think about is Harry's world. A world that Regulus, Dudley, and co. are about to make a lot better...

Content Warning: This fanfiction will contain swearing, child abuse, descriptions of gore/violence, eating disorders, manipulation, and death. Should any other squicky moments come up along the way, I will most assuredly let you know.

Summary: On 31 July 1991, Harry Potter adopted a cat and Dudley Dursley saved it. Neither child expected that the cat would adopt and save them, in turn. Yet, that is exactly what Regulus Black does, transforming his appearance, his life, and their world. The family grows closer, stronger, and greater, by the day. For anyone who needs a home is welcome at The Lilypad.

The Actual Story:

I solemnly swear that I am up to no good...

CHAPTER ONE

Harry Potter was happy.

It was a rare feeling and the boy wasn't sure what to do with it. It filled up every inch of his tiny body, so much so that it ached. He stood in the wand shop, a baggy plaid shirt practically reaching his knees, hiding the ribs that poked through his skin, hiding the bruises and cuts that danced across it.

Yet despite these injuries, he had never been happier. With his new wand in hand, still warm, he finally had a means to defend himself. No more punches, no more blows, no more harsh shrieks, no more nicknames. Freak. Whelp. Bastard orphan. No more.

He would never have to return to the Dursleys. He was free. He was a wizard and though his past chilled him, the warmth of freedom was comforting. He knew that this was his way out. And with that came a true sense of happiness.

That giddiness partially faded as he realized that he was on the receiving end of a rather uncomfortable conversation.

His knees threatened to buckle as he stared up at the strange wizard with the violet eyes, the wizard who muttered about the curious nature of his wand. A cold hand ran down his spine. He let out an involuntary shudder as the man's eyes pierced the top of his head.

"Sorry," he said in a small voice, "but what's curious?"

Those eyes somehow intensified. Harry tore his gaze away to stare at Hagrid, who was squashed into the corner, examining the tip of his umbrella.

When Harry turned back, he saw that Mr. Ollivander was smiling—a sinister smile that usually meant trouble for the young child.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather—just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother why, its brother gave
you that scar."

Harry swallowed.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious, indeed, how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember. I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter. After all, He Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible, yes, but great."

The eleven-year-old shrank until he was nothing more than a speck of dust on the carpet. With a shaky hand, he produced the seven galleons for the wand. Mr. Ollivander's gaze followed him all the way out.

"I 'ppose we have a few minutes," Hagrid said, oblivious to how shaken Harry was. "I'll tell yeh what, I'll get yeh a birthday present."

Harry's cheeks immediately burned. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had gotten him anything, let alone a birthday present. The child stared at the cobblestone road and mumbled, "You don't have to do that."

"I know I don't have to," said Hagrid with a wave of his enormous hand. "I'll get yeh an owl. How's that?"

"Erm—"

Harry didn't have much of a choice. The giant ushered him into a nearby shop called The Magical Menagerie. There were dozens of pets, each more absurd than the last, but the boy wasn't really allowed to look at them. Instead, he was practically dragged over to the wall of owls. The birds were beautiful, their breeds different, their feathers different, their temperaments different. A tawny own bit at his fingers when he reached towards it. A barn owl continued sleeping, even as he spoke to it softly. A screech owl, well, screeched.

"How 'bout this one?" Hagrid asked, gesturing towards a snowy owl.

It was quite beautiful with feathers as white as fluffy clouds and blue eyes that sparkled beneath the hanging lights.

"I suppose," Harry said. "I just don't know what I would use an owl for."

"Fer deliverin' packages," said Hagrid, sounding slightly annoyed. "Ev'ry good wizard has an owl."

"Oh."

Harry wasn't sure if he was a good wizard.

He wasn't sure if he was much of anything, really.

True, everyone in that strange alleyway seemed to regard him as some sort of hero, the person who had managed to bring down a great darkness. But he still thought they were wrong, and perhaps a bit barking. He wasn't a hero. He wasn't a great wizard. He was Harry. Just Harry.

At that moment, 'Just Harry' felt something ram into the back of his knees.

He whirled around and nearly tripped over a giant orange lump of fur. He gained his footing, careful as to not tread on the cat's paws. The poor creature looked as though it had sustained enough injuries already. Its face rather reminded Harry of the cartoons that Dudley enjoyed watching, the ones where the cat chased the mouse. The mouse would dive away at the last moment, causing the cat to slam into the wall until its face was completely flat. Harry didn't like those cartoons much. He never knew which side to take. Of course, the mouse deserved to live, but the cat was always punished for sparing the mouse's life.

He reached down to pet the cat's ear. Unlike most cats, which would meow or purr, this cat didn't react. Not one sound. He stared up at Harry with large silver eyes, eyes that looked plainly concerned. Was it upset that Harry was petting him? The child jerked back his hand just in case. No, the cat was still giving him that strange look.

Harry suddenly spotted something else, partially buried in the cat's fur. It was a collar, black with silver swirls. The more Harry looked, the more he didn't like it. It looked as if spikes were coming out of the leather, pressing down into the cat's neck. Yes, Harry could see it, in those strange silver eyes. The cat was in pain.

Harry reached for the collar, only for someone to shout, "Don't touch that!"

Harry whirled around and saw that the shopkeeper had raced forward. Harry jumped back away from the cat and apologized on instinct.

The man melted with relief before saying, "No need to apologize, laddie. I know you want to help the poor animal but that's a cursed collar, that is. It's been on that cat for a decade. All my research points to it being Dark Magic. I have reason to believe that removing it will remove all of the magic in 'yeh."

Harry shivered, though he ended up hesitating. "Well, I only knew that I was magical for a day. I wouldn't miss it that much."

"Laddie, yeh can't just throw away your entire power for one animal." The shopkeeper looked amused. "Besides, what if it has other curses on it? What if it kills yeh?"

"But he's in pain!"

"It's a cat, you're a child!" Upon seeing how sad Harry looked, the shopkeeper sighed and said, "Look, the way I see it, if we keep yeh alive and in a good enough condition, yeh can help hundreds of other animals. Right?"

"I guess so."

"Okay then." Straightening up, the shopkeeper said, "Speaking of other animals, we've got dozens of them. Do you see any you like?"

"I was showin' him the owls," Hagrid spoke up.

"Well, I suppose, an owl will do—"

The cat nudged Harry again. Hard. This time, he went over, landing right on top of the animal. Harry didn't mind, sitting up to stroke his ears.

The shopkeeper frowned and muttered, "Curious."

Harry inwardly groaned. What was curious now? Was this cat somehow related to his supposed magical destiny?

"My boy, don't look so alarmed," said the man, his frown melting into something more friendly. "I'm just jealous, is all. See, that cat has been in and out of my shop for a good decade now, always going off with different owners. Nobody seems to want to keep him 'round. When that happens to yeh, it changes yeh. Makes yeh harder. Well, he's always seemed friendly enough, but I've never seen him this friendly. He seems to have taken a shine to yeh. Got any mice in yer pockets?"

Harry let out a small giggle before shaking his head. The cat meowed, pressing up against the boy's legs. Harry grinned and stood up with a declaration: "I like him."

Unfortunately, a gigantic noise shook the walls of the shop, causing Harry to stagger backwards until he crashed into the display of owls. He straightened up, brushing feathers from his hair, and was horrified and amused when he realized the source of the chaos:

Hagrid had sneezed.

"Never liked cats," he said. "They make me sneeze."

"I can see that," Harry said.

A second sneeze ricocheted through the shop. The owner frowned before producing a handkerchief, a miniscule relief for the sniffling giant.

Oddly enough, the cat wasn't spooked by the sounds. If anything, he seemed annoyed. When Harry had staggered backwards, the cat had bounded forward, pressing himself against his legs once more. Both Harry and the owner noticed this.

"That's more than just a shine," said the old man. "That cat wants to go with yeh. Would yeh be interested?"

"Erm, I don't know," Harry admitted. "What's his name?"

"Well, his first owner named him Crookshanks—"

Before he could say anything else, Hagrid stepped between them. "Ah, s'rry Harry, but I'm afraid the cat won' do. Got ter get yeh an owl."

"You've got te-to?" Harry repeated, momentarily slipping into the giant's dialect. "Why do you have to?"

To his absolute horror, the man who had rescued him from the Dursleys now looked slightly hurt and affronted.

"Well," he grunted, "it was 'possed to be your birthday present."

Harry's face was immediately on fire. He tried to put out the flames and any other damage he might have caused by hastily saying, "O-oh no, no, Hagrid, I'm grateful. I mean, I really am. Thank you so much. It's just, these owls are so expensive. I could never ask you to pay that much. Not after everything you've done for me already. Look. Right over here, this piece of paper is all about Crookshanks. He's a fraction of what an owl would cost. I'd be grateful for anything, really, I would, but I'd feel a lot better knowing that you didn't go through too much trouble for me. I'm not worth it."

The last part slipped out before he could stop it. Hagrid didn't seem to notice but the cat's head shot up.

Harry desperately tried to change the subject. He used the inclination of the cat's head to his advantage, petting him beneath the chin.

"Besides," he said, "He really does seem to like me. And it looks like he needs a good home. Please, Hagrid? If you're going to get anything, I really would prefer Crookshanks. I mean, I'd appreciate anything but—"

He trailed off, feeling as though he had mucked everything up.

Fortunately, after a brief moment of hesitation, Hagrid slowly said, "Well, all righ', Harry. If it's what yeh want." He let out another large sneeze before adding, "Just don' bring 'im by my house, eh?"

He gave the boy a large smile, causing his spirits to lift. They lifted even more when the giant pulled out a small hairy wallet. He glanced at the snowy owl again before asking, "Yeh sure yeh don' want-? I was told—well—if it's what yeh want—"

"Thank you, Hagrid," Harry practically squealed. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

The shop owner beamed and gathered the necessary items, placing them in Harry's trunk. He then produced a fine piece of parchment, an official adoption contract, which caused Harry to smile from ear to ear. He took a feathered pen from the man—marvelling at how strange it was—and filled in the appropriate gaps:

THE MAGICAL MENAGERIE | DIAGON ALLEY

31 JULY 1991

THIS IS TO CERTIFY THAT CROOKSHANKS POTTER IS AN OFFICIAL MEMBER OF THE POTTER FAMILY AND WILL BE LOVED BY HARRY JAMES POTTER.

SIGNED,

HARRY JAMES POTTER

LYSANDER SCAMANDER | OWNER

Harry laughed as the owner dipped Crookshanks' paws into a jar of ink. The cat didn't seem to mind, proudly placing his pawprints on the bottom of the parchment. Harry then had his own handprints added. The adoption was official.

"Thank you!" Harry squealed. "And thank you, Hagrid!"

The giant chuckled, his face as pink as his umbrella. He waved his hand and mumbled something incoherent. They entered the alleyway and realized that the sun was slipping beneath the horizon.

"'Reckon we have time for a bite to eat before yeh have to go back," Hagrid mused. "Yeh want a hamburger?"

Harry froze and Crookshanks crashed into the back of his legs.

"B-back?" asked the boy in a small voice. "What do you mean 'back'?"

And just like that, everything came crashing down. The boy's stomach twisted as that strange cold hand returned, tickling every single part of his skin, grabbing his chest and squeezing so tightly that he was sure he was going to burst.

"N-no," he finally said. "I can't go back there. I can't."

"Yeh have to," Hagrid said. "Term doesn't start til September First."

September 1st. That was a month away. A month. There was no way he could survive the Dursleys for another month. Not after the amount of trouble he'd caused. He could already feel the welts and bruises forming.

He tried to summon up enough courage to tell the giant what might, no, would, happen if he returned. But he didn't. He didn't say anything when they bought six hamburgers from a kiosk—one for him and five for Hagrid. He didn't say anything when they made their way to the Underground. He didn't say anything when Hagrid gave him an entire trolley of supplies that he had purchased, which the thin boy had to haul over the gap between the platform and train. He didn't say anything. He only watched, sadly, as the doors closed between him and the giant. The train sighed as it pulled away from the platform, as if it too was reluctant to go.

Harry rested his forehead against the cool glass. Not even the cat against his legs could cheer him up. He had been so close...so close to being free…

ϟ

The dusty carpet shook as Hagrid made his way across the headmaster's office. He felt rather like a schoolboy who was about to be admonished. The giant took some comfort in the trilling of Fawkes. He raised a finger and gently ran it across the back of the bird's head.

At that moment, another bird swooped in through the window. The white owl circled around the desk for a few seconds. Hagrid blinked and suddenly Dumbledore was there, brushing his feathery white hair out of his eyes. He adjusted his pointed hat and his half-moon glasses before turning his gaze to Hagrid.

"'m sorry, sir," Hagrid said, close to tears. "I know yeh wanted me to have 'im pick yeh but he wanted that cat so badly."

"Calm yourself, Hagrid," Dumbledore said with a lifted hand. "Everything is all right. You did brilliantly."

The giant's face grew pink again and his chest swelled with pride.

Truth be told, the headmaster was frustrated and disappointed. His plan had been perfect. He would pass as a common owl and have Harry take him in. Of course, he would only actually be in the boy's presence for a few minutes here or there, just to monitor how he was coming along. His extensive absences would be attributed to hunting or letter collecting.

Alas, the plan had failed. No matter. There was more than one way to check in on a child's progress. Truth be told, he probably should have thought of the more conventional methods first. He always had to overthink things.

Unlike the man in front of him who never seemed to put two thoughts together when they were needed the most.

Still, he was useful in some ways.

"The package, Hagrid," Dumbledore said, holding out his long fingers.

Hagrid pulled it from his pocket after a great deal of digging, happily handing it over. It was only when the giant left, accidentally tearing off his door handle, that Dumbledore stared at the object like a starved child stares at food.

Granted there had been a tiny hiccup in the plan—wasn't there always?—but everything was still going exactly as it should.

ϟ

An inky blanket stretched across Privet Drive. Harry trudged up the sidewalk, dragging his trunk behind him. The cat followed him without command.

"Now, listen," Harry said. "I don't know how else to say this but you need to be...normal. You came from The Magical Menagerie so there must be something about you that's not Dursley-ish. And whatever that is, I'm begging you to keep it hidden. They hate anything that's not normal. Including m—"

He broke off, slightly embarrassed.

The cat purred and Harry nodded. "You're right; it's going to be fine."

The cat stared at him incredulously, as if he had said nothing of the sort and didn't like words being put into his mouth.

Harry was about to enter the house when he heard a soft, "No!"

He whirled around, startled, though he wasn't nearly as spooked as the cat. Its back arched up and it hissed at the boy hiding behind Petunia's prized shrubs. The boy who was kneeling, because it was too painful to sit. He scrambled to his feet, still wincing in pain, but talking through it: "What are you doing here?'

"What are you doing here?" Harry repeated.

"Well, I'm not about to go in there," Dudley whispered, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. "Dad really has gone mad. He thinks that you—that your lot—that you ended up cursing me for life. That I'm as good as an animal. He started breaking all of my presents. All thirty-eight presents; gone! 'Said that if I wasn't gonna be a normal child, anymore, that I wouldn't need them. Mum's trying to calm him down but I—I came out here." He paused before letting out a humorless laugh. "Kinda funny, huh? A pig rolling around in the mud."

And then, he began to truly cry.

Harry didn't know what to do. This was the boy who had invented Harry Hunting, who had made him clean both of his bedrooms before sending him back to his cupboard, who had thrown a fit when his breakfast wasn't cooked just right.

And here he was, muddy, pained, and crying.

In the end, Harry followed through with the first thought that popped into his head. He reached out and put his hands on Dudley's arm, shocking the boy into silence.

"It'll be okay," Harry said. "It's going to be okay, Big D. I have a magical wand, now, like the fairy tales. Maybe I can fix it? Or make it invisible? No, wait, then you'd still be in pain."

"I don't care about the pain," Dudley lied, tears rolling down his cheeks. "I just don't want Dad to hate me."

"He wouldn't hate you."

He left a sentence unsaid, but the boys heard it nonetheless: 'Not like he hates me.'

"Well, anyway, we won't give him the chance," Harry hastily said. "We'll get the tail off and then you—"

"It's not that simple."

Harry really didn't know what to do, much less what to say. For the first time in their lives, Dudley looked solemn, thoughtful, like he had gone to university and had come back with a deep knowledge on how horrible the world was. Harry licked his dry lips and asked, "What?"

"It's not that simple," Dudley said. "He's not just angry because of the tail. You should have seen him this morning. No, you shouldn't have. It was awful. You two took the boat. We were stuck on that rock for hours. That toothless guy—remember how creepy he was?—he saw the boat on the shore and realized that something was wrong. He rowed out and got us but if he hadn't, we might still be stuck there. And, then, I had to ride in the boat with this and it hurt and I started crying and Dad—Dad started talking about all of the things he would do to you. We've heard him talk before, but not like this. I tried to stop him. I told him it wasn't your fault."

"You what?" Harry breathed. "W-why would you tell him that?"

Dudley gave him a weird look. "Because it wasn't your fault? You didn't ask Hagrid to do this. I saw your face. You were bloody terrified. We all were. And then, he fell asleep. And, well, I guess I got to thinking, when we were hiding in the other room. About how you had never asked for any of it. Your parents dying. You being here. Hagrid doing what he did. You never wanted any of that. You didn't deserve any of that. I couldn't stop thinking. You know, I've never been that good in school. Mum always blamed the teachers, but I knew it was me. 'Was never as smart as you. But, in that shack, I had nothing better to do. No TV. No video games. I guess, it was a good of a time to think as ever. Anyway, by the time I got on that boat with the toothless man, well, I guess my thinking turned to feeling. I thought about how I felt. About you. About Mum and Dad. About how we've treated you. Harry, I—I mean—I'm sorry."

Harry saw that he meant it, even if the words were a bit muddled. He didn't blame Dudley. His cousin, himself, had admitted that he had never taken home the highest marks in their English modules. And what words did you use when you were trying to apologize to someone for a decade of abuse? Dudley clearly didn't know, and the fact that it frustrated him was enough. Harry could tell that he wanted to apologize. And not because Petunia had forced it out of him, on the very rare occasion that she did. This was all on Dudley, who hadn't quite formed the most elegant sentences, but still did his best. He was doing his best. And really, that was all anyone could ask of an eleven-year-old.

Because Dudley was eleven. They both were. They were just children, who had been put in a horrible situation, all because Harry had managed to survive when his parents were killed. Neither of them had asked for this life, and neither of them were old enough to truly escape it, but they were both getting old enough to understand it. To understand where things had gone wrong, and how things had gone wrong, and how things could get better.

They weren't sure how much they could do, but they could try. They could try to change things. They were children. They were young. They could still change. Everyone could change.

And, as they huddled together, beneath the misty rain, Harry realized that Dudley had changed. He still had a long way to go, they both did, but they were willing to make a go of it.

And Dudley was willing to make the first move.

A hand was thrust out in the space between them.

Harry hesitated before taking it.

It was a while before the two let go.

A crash caused them to turn back to the house. Harry strained and could hear Petunia frantically trying to calm Vernon, only for another crash to sound.

The boys stared at the curtain-covered window.

"Everything I said," Dudley mumbled, "I tried saying it to Dad. That's why he's so angry. Angrier than normal. It's not enough that I have a tail. It's that I stood up for you. But I couldn't—I couldn't just go back to hitting you or looking the other way when they hit you. Not after everything we learned about you. It wouldn't be right. None of it was right."

"Well, thanks," Harry said. "You're right, after everything that's happened—I dunno why Hagrid thought things would go back to normal."

"Me neither," Dudley said. "I'm glad I got to see you, again, and I'm glad I got to apologize. But I really wish you hadn't come back here."

Harry was about to say the same when he instead said, "Well, maybe it's a good thing I did. I'm glad I got to see you, again, too. And, now, I can try to fix your tail."

He reached into his trunk and pulled out the slim box. Dudley's eyes widened as Harry took off the lid, his wand rolling out into his hand.

"Wicked," Dudley whispered. "Seriously, Harry, that is so cool."

Harry smiled at the feeling of warmth that spread through his body, and not just from the magical object in hand. Dudley awkwardly turned around. Harry gasped and the cat hissed. Harry had nearly forgotten about his new pet. Dudley, it seemed, had just noticed it. It was hard not to notice Crookshanks when he came close to the curvy spear that poked through the back of Dudley's pajamas. The exposed skin around it was red and swollen, a disgusting ooze welling up in certain spots. The cat hissed again and Dudley asked, "W-what's it doing?"

"I think he's upset at how injured you are," Harry said.

Sure enough, the cat began to wrap itself around Dudley's legs, purring, as if it was his version of hugging and comforting the child.

Dudley tried his best to keep his balance as he said, "Well, no wonder he recognizes pain. Look, did you see his collar?"

"I know," Harry said with a grimace. "The shop owner told me that I could never take it off; that it would suck up all of my magic, if I tried."

"The shop owner?" Dudley turned, nearly stepping on the creature, giving it an apologetic look. "You mean, you bought him from a shop?"

Harry nodded and said, "This is Crookshanks."

Dudley gaped at the two of them. "He really is yours? I thought he was just a stray who followed you home. He looks like a stray."

"Don't be mean," Harry said.

"Sorry, but he does."

"Yeah, I suppose." Harry sighed. "I wouldn't have bought him if I had known that I was coming back here. I really thought I was going to be free."

He flushed as he remembered who he was talking to. In the end, Dudley eyed him and quietly said, "I really hoped you would be."

"Yeah." Harry sighed before saying, "Well, anyway—"

He gestured for Dudley to turn back around. The boy did so and Harry pointed his wand, feeling extremely foolish as he said, "Erm—Heal! Heal Tail! Tail Be Gone! Abracadabra!"

Nothing worked.

Harry felt tears well up in his eyes. It was childish, he knew, but he couldn't help it. He blinked them away as Dudley turned back around. "Hey, it's all right. It's okay, Harry. Maybe you just need some practise. You've got this magical destiny thing, right? You defeated a supervillain when you were just a child. You're bound to have some sort of superpower that can help me."

"Yeah, maybe." Harry sighed as he tried to think of a place to put his wand, ultimately slipping it into his belt loop. "I just wish I could have helped you now."

"Why?" Dudley asked. "I've been nothing but rotten to you."

Harry shrugged and muttered, "Well, it's nice, having you not be rotten."

His cousin surveyed him before saying, "Harry, this isn't your fault. I'm not gonna start hating you, just because you can't fix this. Nobody asked you to fix it. And, anyway, I think I've hated you enough for one lifetime."

Harry broke. He had spent ten years trying to not cry, knowing that crying would bring about an even worse punishment. But ten years was a long time to hold it in. He knew that it was okay to finally let it out. It wasn't childish. It wasn't harmful. It wasn't wrong. It was okay to cry. So, he did. Dudley put an arm around him and let him cry. He cried. And he cried. And he cried. And then, his stomach growled.

"Here," Dudley said, when Harry had used the front of his hand-me-down shirt to wipe the mess off his face. "It's not exactly the most nutritious dinner but—"

He bent down, behind the shrub, and picked up the box that had contained Hagrid's birthday cake. There was still a chunk left. Dudley flushed and mumbled, "I've been holding onto it. I—well—I wanted to give it to you, if you ever did come back. Happy Birthday, Harry. Sorry it's been such a rotten one."

"It wasn't all rotten," Harry mumbled. "Some of it was incredible. You should see Diagon Alley and—and Gringotts. They've got these workers, there, called goblins."

And so, the two stood in the rain, sharing the cake. Dudley hadn't wanted to share at first, pushing the box into Harry's hands, but Harry had insisted. It was delicious. Harry had eaten cake before, when other students had brought baked goods to school to celebrate the holidays. But nothing was quite as good as this. Oddly enough, he had a feeling that it wouldn't have tasted this good last night. Only now, standing next to Dudley, with the cat working its way around their legs, did Harry think that it was the best birthday cake he'd ever had. And, despite everything, it was the best birthday he'd ever had.

He continued to talk about Diagon Alley and Dudley was a polite audience, occasionally chiming in with comparisons to Smeltings Academy, which he had seen on a tour last week. Nothing truly important was discussed but it was nice, talking together, being together. Not even the rain could take away the warmth that had wrapped around Harry.

And then, on the other side of the wall, came a loud scream and a sickening crash.

The birthday cake tumbled to the ground, a bit of frosting landing on Crookshanks' head.

"Mummy!" Dudley shrieked, running into the house at full speed.

"Dudley, wait!" Harry cried. "Dudley!"

He didn't even hesitate in running after his cousin, the cat at his heels. He burst through the front door of Number 4 Privet Drive, even though, mere hours ago, he would have given anything to never cross the threshold again. This was different. Dudley wasn't safe and Harry wasn't going to let him go into danger alone.

And danger it was.

As Harry entered the living room, he was shocked to see that the Dursleys' glass coffee table had completely shattered. Lying on the shards was the limp body of Petunia.

Vernon towered over the mess, though he was quite distracted with the fact that Dudley was repeatedly punching him, screaming, "What did you do to her? What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" Vernon cried. "I would never hurt her! She probably fainted when she caught sight of that tail of yours!"

"Of course you would hurt her!" Dudley shrieked. His fists slamming into Vernon's chest. "You've hurt all of us! You're the real animal! You're the freak!"

Harry had just enough time to call out a warning before Vernon's hand struck Dudley's cheek, sending him flying halfway across the room. Dudley was so caught off guard that he didn't even feel the slap. He just sat up and stared at the man, shocked and confused. Harry didn't blame him. He had never been at the receiving end of Vernon's fury.

Harry, though, was used to the pain.

It was for this very reason that he put himself between Vernon and Dudley, taking his wand from his belt loop. He had just raised it when Vernon's fist struck the center of his face.

The eleven-year-old felt the pressure in his nose, then heard a snap, and finally felt the white hot pain. Something wet trickled down the front of his face. Even then, he didn't react, nor did he make any attempt to run. He merely stared up at his uncle.

Shock was one hell of a potion.

Vernon seized Harry just as Crookshanks charged reached him. The cat had never broken his stride, running as fast as he could. Dudley's injury, Harry's reaction, and Harry's subsequent injury had all happened within seconds. Having finally reached him, the cat sank his claws into Uncle Vernon's thigh. The beefy man let out a scream and threw Harry all the same. The boy crashed into the side of the staircase and fell to the floor. He was dazed and his ears were ringing but he knew that lying down wasn't an option, no matter how much he suddenly wanted to sleep. He watched in horror Vernon threw the cat with ease. It crashed into the wall next to Dudley, who let out a small cry.

"No!" Harry whispered, much more concerned with this animal that he had just met than his own wellbeing. "No! Crookshanks! Crookshanks!"

Vernon began to advance towards him, like a predator seeking his prey.

On the other side of the room, Dudley threw himself onto his hands and knees, crawling forward. It was only then that he felt the pain well up in his cheek, bringing him down to his stomach.

He opened his eyes in time to see Crookshanks crawling next to him. The cat was mewing in pain, though Dudley wasn't sure if it was from his recent injuries or from the collar.

In that moment, Dudley made the most important decision of his life.

He reached up and seized the collar with both hands.

"Here," he grunted. "This way, at least one of us can be free."

Summoning the strength that he had always known he had had, Dudley ripped the collar from the cat's neck. He had expected the cat to screech in pain, or perhaps run away, or even let out a meow of relief. Instead, the cat became swallowed by a white light.

Dudley screamed and covered his eyes. He felt something happening to his rear, a strange sensation, sort of like when his mother rubbed the cold gel onto his chest to keep him from coughing. Dudley didn't understand. He wasn't sure he wanted to understand. Life really was simpler behind his hands. But Harry was out there. And so, he lowered his hands, just in time for another one to touch his cheek, causing the pain to disappear.

A man was crouching in front of him, kneeling on the same piece of floor that had once been beneath Crookshanks. His silver eyes were the same as the cat's, though he was definitely a man. A man who couldn't have been younger than thirty. A man who was in tattered clothes. A man who had clearly not stood in some time but took a stand nonetheless.

"Dudley, stay down," he whispered, stepping in front of the child. "Keep your arms over your head and shield yourself."

The man stepped forward, a ball of green light appearing in each palm. He sent them both barreling into Vernon, knocking him away from a stunned Harry. Vernon wasn't down for long but this stranger already had the high ground. By the time Vernon came up, the man struck him once in the cheek and once in the nose.

Harry and Dudley could only look on in amazement.

The man was taking on Vernon in a fistfight—and he was winning! A strange pulse seemed to emit from him. The boys could feel it, like waves of static and energy. Something must have burst from the man's palms for Vernon suddenly went flying into the wall.

He ended up going right through it, falling partially into the kitchen. He let out a small grunt and lifted his head before it crashed back down.

"Not much of a dueller, are you?" asked the man with a twisted smile. He spun back around and crouched in front of Harry. "Harry, I am so sorry I wasn't able to help you sooner. I'll never forgive myself for letting this happen to you. Sirius is going to murder me but until he does, I'm going to do everything within my power to protect you."

Harry gaped at him. He had no idea what to say and the man seemed to understand. He picked up the trembling boy's wand and gently said, "I know a few spells that can heal your most recent injuries. Shall I perform them?"

"Please," Harry whispered.

The man flicked the wand that didn't belong to him and set to work healing as much as he could. As he did so, Harry took a good look at him.

He was tall, unusually tall. Like Harry, he had raven black hair. Unlike Harry, his skin was pale and he had silver eyer eyes that Harry suspected once held a sparkle. His hair was also different too, the boy realized. It was long and mostly straight, though there was a bit of a wave here or there. There was also a bit of frosting in it. The same frosting that had fallen onto Crookshanks. Strangest of all were the tiny holes that inched around his neck.

That settled it, then.

This man had been his cat.

Well, he supposed he had seen weirder things, today.

Including a remorseful Dudley, who now inched towards them. For a moment, Harry didn't know if he was going to attack the man. No. His cousin just wanted to be near him.

"There," the man said, as the last bit of pain washed away from Harry. "Now, Dudley, let me take care of you."

Harry watched as this man tended to his cousin. He finally found his voice, though it was a small one: "Who are you?"

The man gave him a sad smile. "No, I don't suppose you remember me, do you? You were only a baby when—when it happened that we could no longer be in each other's lives. My name is Regulus Black. I'm your goduncle. You used to call me G'uncle."

Harry stared at the man for what felt like a century and a half. He finally pulled himself together and said, "It's nice to meet you."

He held out his hand and Regulus chuckled. "It's nice to meet you too."

He shook the boy's hand and then shook Dudley's. Neither child knew what to say but Regulus seemed just as tongue-tied. Still, he gave them a smile that was—that was kind. He seemed genuinely kind, something that Harry couldn't remember ever seeing in an adult.

Vernon and Petunia certainly weren't kind.

Vernon and Petunia—

Harry looked past Regulus to Petunia's body. Dudley had remembered it as well, running forward and kneeling down in the shards.

"Dudley, wait!" Regulus cried. "You're going to hurt yourself!"

Dudley didn't care. He seized Petunia's arm and began to shake her. "Mummy? Mummy! Mummy, wake up! Dad won't hurt you anymore. Wake up!"

Harry gripped Regulus' arm. The man tried his best to give him a comforting glance. It didn't exactly work but Harry did feel safer with him there. He was an adult.

And he acted like one. Regulus stepped forward and waved the wand that Harry had purchased mere hours ago. The glass shards all disappeared, including the ones in Dudley's knees, though they still left several cuts. Another wave of Harry's wand caused the cuts to disappear. Dudley didn't mention his gratitude but Regulus expected that he had other priorities. He cradled his mother in his arms and Regulus whispered, "Enervate."

Dudley sighed with relief as Petunia's eyes flickered open. Unfortunately, upon seeing Regulus' face, the woman let out a gasp. "Y-you're supposed to be dead."

"And you," said Regulus coolly, "are supposed to be a formidable guardian. I suppose, somewhere down the line, we both ended up failing."

"Y-you don't understand," she whispered. "It's not like I could stop him. What was I supposed to do? What was I suppo—?"

"Mum?" Dudley asked nervously. "Mummy?"

All at once, the blonde woman fell unconscious. Regulus reached forward and put his hand between her head and the floor. Dudley began to scream and punch the man's shoulder.

"What did you do?" he wailed. "What did you do to her?"

"Shh, Dudley, I didn't do anything," Regulus said, performing a few diagnostic exams that he had learned on the battlefield. "Nor did your father. Well, he did a lot of things to her, but he's not the reason she fell. She's ill."

"She's not ill!" Dudley shrilly said. "I'd know if she was ill!"

Harry stepped forward and rested his hands on Dudley's arm. His cousin was so shocked that he immediately let it go limp. Regulus took the opportunity to pick up the fallen woman. He carried her over to the couch and set her down with more force than was really necessary.

Dudley winced before turning to Harry. "Do you think she's ill?"

"I—I don't know."

Harry thought back to the past year. His aunt had always been thin but her bones had been more prominent than normal. Vernon had blamed Harry on more than one occasion, claiming that he wasn't cooking enough food. Harry had privately assumed that Dudley was eating his aunt's portions as well, but he had never said anything. Now, he was glad that he hadn't, because he didn't think that was the case at all. His aunt was clearly ill.

And Harry didn't know how to feel about it.

Dudley, on the other hand, was going mad with worry. Still, Regulus seemed calm enough. He wasn't using his magic to fix Petunia. Instead, he was repairing the house, taking away the dents and holes that had been caused by the recent fight. It took all of the man's strength to pull Vernon out into the hallway.

He pointed his wand at the man and Dudley let out a loud shriek. Harry flinched and looked away, only turning back when Regulus cried, "Boys?"

"Don't hurt him!" Dudley squealed. "Please, don't!"

Regulus sighed and said, "I won't, though I daresay he'd deserve it."

He flinched as he realized that it was the wrong thing to say. The cousins were holding onto each other, both terrified and miserable, the bespectacled one even more so.

The former Slytherin took a deep breath before saying what was best for the situation: "I will not harm him. I promise. I am merely going to modify his memory."

He certainly didn't want the man to retaliate for everything that had happened. He was going to do everything within his power to make sure that Harry never had to come back but he couldn't keep his eyes on the boy every second for the rest of his life, no matter how much he wanted to. Vernon Dursley was clearly an abusive monster, perhaps even more dangerous than the man Regulus had once vowed to serve. His arm prickled at the mere thought.

He raised the wand and set to work. A few spells ensured that Vernon Dursley would never remember this night. As far as he was concerned, Hagrid took Harry and the boy never returned. Which, Regulus thought, should have been the actual case.

He would make it the case.

But what about Dudley?

Regulus had never intended to help another child. His only goal had been to get Harry out of there as quickly as possible and he had clearly failed. But he couldn't leave Dudley in the horrid man's care. Truth be told, he had already begun making plans, the moment he had spotted Dudley in the shrubs. Certainly when the boy had taken the collar off.

They weren't plans that he had upon seeing Harry in the shop, but the plans that he made upon seeing Harry weren't the ones that he had when he had spent the morning near the scratching post. Those morning plans had consisted mostly of scratching his back. The point was that plans changed. He was a Slytherin. He could adapt.

But what of Petunia?

She was clearly ill, an illness that she had clearly been fighting on her own, without any professional treatment. There was something more, though, something beyond the already severe Muggle disease. There was a trace of energy around the woman. It was as if she had just repelled a very powerful curse that had been placed on her, and was now suffering from the fatigue that followed, mixed in with the fatigue from her illness.

He couldn't leave her in the same house as Vernon. Regulus had never cared for her, having seen her in King's Cross every summer and the few times when he and the Potters had tried to be civil. Still, his distaste in her tacky way of life certainly didn't mean that he wished her harm. Then again, the fact that she had knowingly stayed with an abusive ma—

No.

Regulus couldn't do that. He couldn't blame her. She might have had her part in Harry's pain and for that, he would never forgive her. Still, he knew exactly what it was like to find oneself trapped in a situation where an abusive, evil, masochist could harm or kill you if you dared to leave. Oddly enough, Sirius had been the one to get him out of that situation. Well, Sirius had been the one to get him out of the lake after he had so foolishly tried to get himself out of the situation alone.

Nobody should have to get themselves out of that situation alone.

And so, if no one else was there for them, Regulus would be.

He looked from the unconscious woman to the boy who had been a clear victim of abuse to a boy whose condition was unclear but had, at the very least, suffered from several nasty shocks. A trip to the hospital was definitely in order. But not St. Mungo's. He couldn't afford anyone in the wizarding world seeing him; not yet.

No. A Muggle hospital would have to do.

"Boys," Regulus said, channeling every part of Slytherin within him, "I know that you have both been through alot. I want to hear everything and I promise that I'm going to help you. Yes, yes, I'm also going to help her. I know that the last bits of your lives have been confusing and scary. Unfortunately, while I can try to take the fear away, things are going to be confusing for awhile. But I promise that the confusion will come out of me trying to do my best to help you. I want to help you. I need you to trust me. I was Harry's family once. I want to be again."

Harry and Dudley exchanged glances. It was the latter who finally asked, "How do we know we can trust you?"

"Excellent question."

Regulus brought up his hands and a golden light wrapped around him.

"I, Lord Regulus Arcturus Black, Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, do solemnly swear on my blood, my magic, and my wealth, that I will not intentionally harm you, Harry James Potter, and you—"

He looked at Dudley, who glanced at his father before saying, "Dudley, um, Evans."

"—Dudley Dursley, as he is legally named, though he wishes to call himself Dudley Evans, for now. You have the word of a wizard as well as a lord."

The golden light wrapped around the boys as well and though they both screamed at it, and grabbed at each other to boot, they were unharmed. A strange wind tousled their hair and clothes. At last, the strangeness disappeared, causing all of them to let out deep sighs of relief for reasons unknown. Regulus stared at the boys, waiting for their reactions.

The two exchanged glances.

"Lord?" Harry asked.

"Heir?" Dudley asked.

"All of which will be explained," Regulus promised. "In the meantime, we need to find a way to get us to the hospital. All of us. I daresay we could all use some medical attention."

Harry, seemingly forgetting that he had been abused for a decade, asked, "Do you think they could fix Dudley's tail?"

"They can clean up the infection," Regulus said, "but the tail is gone."

"W-what?" Dudley cried, feeling his rear.

"He's right!" Harry gasped. "The tail's gone!"

"That collar was designed to drain any magical properties of the person who would dare to take it off," Regulus said. "Dudley dared to take it off." He closed the distance between them, crouching down, putting a hand on either boy's shoulder. "Harry saved me from the shop. Dudley saved me from the curse. Now, it's time for me to save you."

ϟ

End of Chapter One! I know that this chapter was long, certainly longer than the first version of this story, but I couldn't be happier with it. I really wanted to flesh out the apology and relationship between Harry and Dudley. Before Regulus was able to save them, they were willing to save one another—something that will never change. I also really wanted to add the scene where Dudley frees Regulus, allowing Regulus to free them. There are a few more scenes I added in, that I won't draw attention to, but are crucial to the overall story!

For now, I'll say: 'Mischief Managed!'