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When Harry had received the letter in the mail, he’d almost thrown it away. He hadn’t spoken to the Dursleys since the weeks following the war, and while he and Dudley had parted on relatively good terms, they had indeed parted. He’d never felt any desire to reconnect with the three people who had made his childhood so unbearable.
Curiosity – and firewhiskey – had eventually won out, and he’d opened the letter.
Vernon had died. A heart attack.
Harry didn’t mourn the loss, though he felt bad for Dudley. For all his cruelty, Vernon had loved his son.
The letter also contained apologies, regrets, and hopes for a fresh start. It was the end of the missive, however, that had stuck with Harry.
We’re hosting a family reunion on the weekend of the 21st of August, and it would mean the world to us if you would attend. I’d love for my son to meet the man who saved his world.
Harry had vacillated for days before Ginny finally convinced him to respond.
“You can obsess about it for the summer, or you can not go and obsess about it for the rest of your life. We’re going. If he acts like a prick, I'll curse the bugger and give him a new tail.”
He’d never loved his wife more.
And so, the Potter family travelled to Surrey for a Dursley family reunion.
“Remember what we discussed,” Ginny reminded the children as they entered the small campground. “No talking about magic, and no playing tricks on the Muggles. I mean it, James."
“Yes, Mum,” her oldest son agreed, though his eyes twinkled mischievously.
The Potters made their way through the small crowd, looking for their hosts and nodding at unfamiliar faces surrounding barbecues and playing lawn darts. “Most of the people here must be from Dudley’s wife’s side of the family.”
He heard a loud, full-chested laugh, and turned to see his cousin for the first time in over a decade.
Dudley was tall, with broad shoulders and sturdy arms that were currently throwing a boy about Albus’s age into the air. He was smiling – a genuine, loving smile that made Harry stop. He looked … happy.
Harry’s eyes drifted towards the child. He was a little pudgy, though nothing like Dudley had once been. He carried the weight of a child well-loved, and the way he threw his arms around his father pulled at Harry’s heart.
Harry glanced down at his daughter, giving her hand a squeeze before walking towards his cousin.
They had nearly reached Dudley when a woman slid up beside him and kissed his cheek. Harry stared in shock.
“Susan?”
The witch’s eyes met his, smiling nervously. “Hello, Harry.”
Dudley turned towards them, his hand settling on Susan's waist. His son curled against his hip. “Harry,” he said, his voice deep and warm.
They stared at one another, neither man speaking or moving.
Ginny finally broke the tension. “Alright there, Bones?”
“Er, yes Ginny. I’m quite well, thank you.” She smiled at Harry before adding, “It’s actually Dursley now.”
Her voice was soft and kind. Harry remembered her walking up to the Sorting Hat on their first day at Hogwarts; how nervous and small she’d seemed.
Dudley extended his hand to shake Harry’s, his son still holding tightly to his father’s sturdy frame.
Harry blinked a few times, snapping himself out of his stupor, and gripped his cousin’s hand. A homecoming of sorts.
“It’s good to see you, Harry,” Dudley said, disguising the slight tremble in his voice with a cough. “Thank you for coming.”
Harry had so many questions. How had Dudley and Susan met? Did he know she was a witch? He had to know. Was his son magical? What had his parents thought about it?
“This is Edgar … Eddie. My son.”
Edgar Bones … founding member of the Order of the Phoenix. Killed by Death Eaters.
Harry swallowed, smiling down at the young boy. “Hello, Eddie. It’s nice to meet you.”
“This is my cousin Harry, Eddie.”
Eddie’s eyes got big. “ This is Harry Potter?”
Dudley chuckled, finally setting his son down. “The one and only.”
Eddie stepped closer to Harry, his neck straining to look up at him so much that Harry kneeled down to meet his eyes.
“My mum and dad said you stopped a very bad man. My dad says you’re a hero.”
Harry’s throat tightened. He was used to people calling him a hero, but Dudley? He opened his mouth, struggling for words. But then Eddie wrapped his small arms around him, and Harry decided his questions could wait.
They had a lifetime to catch up on the last twelve years. Maybe they could all start fresh.
Footsteps approached, and a familiar voice cut through the quiet. “Dudley, dearest, Amelia wants to know – oh!”
Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He resisted the urge to flatten out his unruly locks and stood slowly, turning to face Aunt Petunia.
She wore a colourful sundress, her grey hair pinned up elegantly, once-smooth skin marred with wrinkles. Her eyes, which had once beheld him with such derision, now watched him with a fearful, nervous sort of guilt.
“Hello, Aunt Petunia,” Harry spoke cautiously.
Petunia swallowed, the motion amplified by her long neck. “Hello, Harry,” she whispered back.
Not Potter … Harry.
“Grandma, it’s really him!” Eddie announced gleefully. “And he brought friends!”
Harry suddenly remembered his own children, watching the interaction with silent trepidation. “Right, sorry Eddie. These are your cousins. This is James, Albus, and my daughter –”
“Lily,” Petunia gasped.
Harry squeezed Lily’s hand protectively, but Petunia dropped to her knees in front of them. Her eyes never left Lily’s face. One shaking hand reached out to touch the girl but she caught herself at the last moment.
“You have …” She glanced up at Harry, eyes wet with a lifetime of unspoken emotion. “You look just like my sister.”
Lily smiled.