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Chapter Text

For the first time in his life, Harry Potter felt normal. Or as normal as one could be, all things considered. It had been three years since the war, and here he was, twenty-one, in the latest Weasley jumper, sipping Firewhisky at Christmas like a proper grown-up.

Harry had never thought of himself as a family man. Once upon a time, he hadn’t a single person to buy a gift for.

But of course, over the years, after meeting Ron and Hermione, defeating Voldemort, and surviving a few post-war mishaps, he’d finally “got it through his thick skull” (Ron’s words) that he did have a family. A very big one! That actually loved him. Not one that “pitied him,” as he’d once assumed.

The list of people to buy for had somehow spiralled out of control. He’d also discovered he was brilliant at it. He had an edge with finance, of course, and he’d once had to battle it out with Mrs Weasley after buying her something far too expensive. 

He’d won that battle in the end by flat-out lying and telling her it had been eighty percent off in the store. A bargain. It would have been silly for him not to buy it. After that, whenever she unwrapped one of his gifts and shot him with that unimpressed look, he’d say something like, “Wouldn’t you know it! Found it second-hand!” She saw straight through him, of course, but he kept up the ruse anyway.

He figured they were even, because when he muttered "This is too much, I can't take this" at Mrs. Weasley's overly traditional and sentimental gifts, she'd call him a "fucking hypocrite." And that was a direct quote. 

With Ginny tucked into his side, pouring some of her own drink into his, Harry looked around the room. Ron was pretending the mistletoe in the doorway was a surprise every single time he and Hermione passed under it. George had Angelina in stitches while Lee Jordan provided running commentary from the sofa - and it still felt strange, and a little rare, to hear George laughing louder than anyone else in the room. Mrs Weasley was fussing over the food with Fleur, while Bill and Charlie were trying to coax an already very drunk Percy into another bottle.

Near the tree, Andromeda watched as Roxanne Weasley and Teddy Lupin coloured together beneath the sparkling lights.

It was full. It was a little chaotic. And Harry never thought he’d see the day he’d have anything like this.

Last year, Harry had finally started to recover from that whole “saving the wizarding world” thing, and realised he couldn’t live without the Weasleys, Hermione, or even Fleur. They’d stuck by him through the nightmares and guilty confessions, no matter how difficult or depressingly gloomy he’d been.

This year, he was trying to work up the courage to ask Mr Weasley if it’d be all right… to ask Ginny to marry him. But every time he tried, the words caught in his throat. Like, if he were to say it out loud, he might jinx it. It might throw everything off kilter and Harry would lose not only Ginny, but everyone. 

So no… not yet.

“Mum, these are for you. Ginny. Dad. This is mine… mine… another for me. Wow, I'm raking them in. Just call me Mr. Popular."

Owls had been coming periodically throughout the day, and George had just collected a large bundle from the bench in the kitchen.

He started passing them around, and Harry couldn’t help thinking how far George had come - the shop back open and thriving, laughter back in his voice.

“Hermione. There you go. And oh! A few letters for you, Harry…”

George wrinkled his nose at one envelope. “Huh.”

“Huh, what?”

“From Dudley Dursley,” George said slowly studying the name like he had misread it.

"Huh." Harry’s fingers twitched, but he didn’t reach for it. Instead he leaned further back into the couch. “Don’t happen to have one from Umbridge or Draco Malfoy in there either, do you? Just to round out the Christmas cheer.”

George, cheeks flushed from a little too much whisky, snorted, rolled his eyes, and headed for the fire, letter in hand. He was halfway to tossing it in when Hermione bounded forward and snatched it from him.

“George! You can’t.”

“Oh, come on. Hermione, Harry doesn’t need all that.”

“Well, let Harry be the one to throw it in the fire, not you. That’s illegal, you know. Tampering with someone else’s post,” she scolded him, holding the letter delicately between her fingers.

“Yeah, Merry Christmas, Harry,” said Ron, dropping onto the sofa beside him. “Here’s a reminder of your miserable, abusive childhood.”

Harry laughed. “I wasn’t abused. Just constantly in trouble, more like.”

Ron snorted into his drink and gestured to Harry. “Bars on his windows, ladies and gentlemen but no - not abuse.” 

A few chuckles broke out. The night Ron and the twins had kidnapped him had turned into one of the family’s favourite tales, always good for a laugh.

“Starved, I remember,” said George, rubbing his chin as if unlocking more old memories. “Sharing a single can of soup a day with your owl and - Oh, that's right! Only allowed to leave your room twice a day for bathroom breaks.”

“Five locks on his door!” Ron added holding up his hand. "Five!"

“Okay,” Harry said, “when you’re all done making fun of the orphan-”

George tossed a different Christmas letter onto Harry’s lap - this one from Hagrid. “Harry, you should know by now that the orphan card will never get you out of a light roast,” he said with mock-seriousness, as if it were the law.

“Harry hunting,” Ginny interjected. “Dudley used to beat him up with his gang.” 

“Oh, AND they locked you in a cupboard,” Ron said, suddenly remembering. “More than once. I remember you mentioning it a few times.”

Harry rolled his eyes, smiling, in on the joke. “A few times? Try the first eleven years of my life.”

“What, Harry!” Hermione gasped, and the joking atmosphere started to slip. 

Mr Weasley mouthed to Mrs Weasley, who had gone unusually quiet, “Eleven years?”

“Trust me, it wasn’t as bad as it sounds.” Harry said. “I had a roof over my head. Food. All that.” 

Fleur tilted her head, brows knitting together. “Is that real? Is that what happened?” 

“Well, yes. It was my bedroom. That’s where I lived. My first Hogwarts letter was addressed to the boy under the stairs.”

Hermione took the letter, scrunched it up, and threw it in the fire.

“Hey. That’s illegal” George chided. But Hermione only glared at him. 

“What?” Harry asked, dumbfounded. “None of it’s important now, is it?” he added, maybe a little too defensively, trying to recover the cheerful atmosphere. Ginny, sitting beside him, grabbed his hand.

“No, it doesn’t,” She said, kissing him on the cheek. 

 “It’s Christmas and I’m here with you guys.” Harry raised a glass, trying to lift the mood. Tentatively, glasses started to rise, and a more positive conversation kicked off thanks to Bill and Fleur who decided it was time for dessert. Thank Merlin. 

As they ate, Harry’s eyes kept darting to the letter that had been burned in the fire… It was for the best. But it was in his nature to be curious. 

Later in the night, he’d completely forgotten about the letter when Hermione came up and wrapped him in a hug.

“You wrote asking for food all the time,” she said slowly, as if just recognising the context. 

“I’m fine, Hermione. Little Harry’s grown up, happy, and survived worse than a few stupid relatives.”

“I hope so,” she said, giving him an extra squeeze.

Chapter Text

It was almost another whole month later before Harry managed to corner Mr Weasley in his garage as he tinkered with a few Muggle artifacts. He was alone. Excellent. Now or never. 

“Oh, Harry, my boy! What brings you here?”

“Well… sir,” Harry said, scratching the back of his neck, “I wanted to ask you something. Kind of important. And, you know, it felt proper to… ask the father. Muggle tradition. Don't know about wizarding ones, really.”

Mr. Weasley paused mid-tinker, giving Harry his full attention. 

“Right. So,” he went on, forcing a deep breath, “I’d like your blessing. Or, permission. Or… something along those lines. To marry Ginny.”

“Ginny Weasley,” Mr. Weasley said, eyes sparkling, “has been smitten with you, Harry Potter, since the moment she spotted you on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Honestly, I’m not sure I have much say in it at all...”

Harry grinned. “I’d like your say anyway.”

“Of course, my boy!” Mr. Weasley set down his tools and enveloped Harry in a bear hug. “Of course!”

Chapter Text

Dudley’s next letter came two years later.

Harry and Ginny were hitched. Officially. Ginny was pregnant. Officially. And they’d just started telling their closest family and friends. Officially.

“’Spose we shouldn’t burn this one,” Ginny said, holding up a letter.

Dudley Dursley.

“Unless…” she added, brandishing her wand.

Harry tugged the letter from her hand. “Gimme and get. You’ll be late for practice, and I don’t need the entire Harpies team gunning for me again because you’re tardy.”

Ginny blew him a kiss as she left Grimmauld Place, not sparing the letter another thought.

Once she was gone, Harry stared at it. The envelope was light. Didn't contain much.

A dozen questions buzzed in his head. Why? Why now? And, more importantly… how? How had Dudley even found an owl to deliver this after five years of no contact? And, again, why?

Maybe he’d somehow heard about Harry and Ginny and this was a “congrats”?

But no. Dudley had written to him, begging for help.

Harry.

I get why you didn’t answer before. 

But I need you. I have a daughter. She is one. I think she’s part of your lot. Can you come Visit Friday after 10am?

Please help. I don’t know anyone else.

Dudley D.

Harry stared at the letter. Surprised. 

“Please help.” Dudley had written. 

After Christmas, when Dudley had written the first time, Mrs Weasley had cornered Harry one night and quietly explained that she and Arthur would never have treated Ron, or Ginny, or any of their children the same way he’d been treated with the Dursleys.

“Could you imagine Ron missing a meal? Locked in a cupboard? Can you imagine Mr Weasley laying even a finger on him?”

Harry shook his head. “What about Teddy? Would you ever punish Teddy the same way your aunt and uncle did to you?”

He remembered looking at Mrs Weasley as she gently spoke with him and realised that he, a very adult Harry Potter, was being parented right now. Harry beamed at her and Mrs Weasley frowned, not fully understanding why he was so happy after discussing such a serious matter.

Honestly, yes. Her talk had given Harry perspective. There had been a bit of mistreatment in his childhood. Sure. He’d always felt that way to an extent. He knew he had been treated unfairly but the Durley’s were always quick to remind him he was lucky they took him in at all and how he should be happy. He hadn’t been happy then. But the thing Mrs Weasley and the others failed to realise was that it was all in the past. None of it mattered. Harry was happy now. To him, clarifying that he had been “abused” changed nothing. It had no effect at all - so why bother? Who cares? 

But now...

Harry lay in bed, a pit growing in his stomach as his thoughts kept drifting to Dudley’s letter.

Was there a Muggle-born baby girl out there who was being locked away and mistreated because of her magic like he had been? The thought made him want to throw up. 

Harry responded to the letter that night. 

I’ll be there. 

Chapter Text

It’s Friday 10 a.m. on the dot.

Harry hadn’t told anyone about Dudley’s letter, dreading the conversations it would spark.

He told the Auror Office he had a quick check-up at St Mungo’s - hardly suspicious, since he was there all the time.

Now, standing outside Dudley’s new address, he found that he didn’t know what to expect. He kept reminding himself why he was there. It wasn’t for Dudley. It was for the young witch behind that door. A dozen questions buzzed around his head like doxies: Is this a joke? Is she safe? How did he find out? Have you fed her? What’s he done to her? Please, to all that is good, let it be a joke.

He took a deep breath and knocked with purpose.

The door swung open almost at once. 

And there he was. A twenty-three-year-old Dudley Dursley.

“Harry,” Dudley stared dumbly at Harry as though he hadn’t expected him to turn up.

“Big D.”

All of Harry’s questions vanished. As if Dudley had struck him square in the face with a Confundus Charm. 

“Congratulations,” Harry tried instead. “A wife... And a baby.”

“Er. Yeah.”

Harry waited patiently while Dudley wrestled with the concept of forming a sentence. Instead, he glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then grabbed Harry by the arm. Instinct kicked in and Harry had his wand out before he could think. Old habits.

Harry was ready to talk to Dudley, to hear him out. But he was not ready to be manhandled within five seconds of seeing him.

“Sorry,” Dudley said, holding up his hands. “Come in. Nosey neighbours and all that.”

“Ah yes, I remember that one. Tragedy befalls you and your reputation crumbles when a neighbour sees that I exist,” Harry muttered as he stepped inside.

Dudley stared at Harry and shut the door behind him. “It’s not like that.” 

Harry nods and takes a second to look around. It’s a perfectly average and normal home. Nothing too stand-outish. It suited Dudley fine. Still, he couldn’t help scanning for anything that looked even slightly off.

Harry had to admit Dudley had matured: years of sport had given him a solid physique that could rival any Quidditch Beater. Harry could see how some lady might have fallen for it. Merlin help her.

“You look different,” Dudley noted.

“You too,” Harry replied.

There was a lul and Dudley finally turned away. “Come meet everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“Don’t worry, Mum and Dad aren’t here. They’d lose it if they knew you were in the house.”

“And here I was missing them terribly,” Harry says, following Dudley through the house, eyeing off every nook and cranny. 

Dudley opened the living room door, and Harry was met with a very pretty young woman who stood immediately and made her way to him, holding out a hand. Harry took it. 

“This is Tilly.”

“Hello, Harry! I’ve heard a lot about you,” Tilly said brightly. 

“Nice to meet you.”

“Tilly’s the one I mentioned in my first letter,” Dudley prompted helpfully. 

“Oh.” Harry looked at Dudley. “I didn’t actually... get to read that.” He suddenly wondered what else the letter might have contained, because Dudley writing to him about his girlfriend at the time was not something Harry would have guessed.

“...It was... intercepted...”

Dudley clearly wasn’t buying it.

“By fire. Sorry,” Harry grimaced.

“It’s okay,” Dudley said, too quickly.

Tilly, bless her, took no offence. “I hear you’re a wizard, Harry. And you can do... like... proper, real-life magic?” she whispered. 

Harry looked from Tilly to Dudley and back again, surprised. She’d actually said the word (the M Word!) in Dudley’s presence, without him bolting from the room or fainting. 

“I told her about Aunt Marge,” Dudley whispered, cheeks red. “And a few other things.”

Harry’s lips curled up in a wry smile, “Yeah, I can do a little magic.”

“I have to say, I’m glad there’s magic in the family. Because when Daisy here started growing actual flowers in her cot, I thought I’d completely lost it. They appeared in minutes.”

And that’s why Harry was here. Tilly could sense it, and she didn’t wait. Gently, she took Harry’s arm and led him across the room to the play corner he’d been eyeing. Finally, Harry peered into the cot. A wide eyed, healthy baby gazed up at him

“This is Daisy.”

Daisy smiled and giggled at them - charming and social, just like her mother, Harry suspected.

“Daisy,” he said softly.

Tilly continued, smiling warmly. “She’s a cutie, isn’t she? Takes after me. Not the sprouting-flowers part, of course. Just the charisma.” She bumped Dudley playfully, then bent over Daisy again. “I admit, I was worried at first. I didn’t know what was happening. And when Dudley mentioned magic, I thought he was joking! But then he mentioned you and told me everything. And... Well, I’m glad you’re here, Harry Potter.”

Harry smiled at her and glanced at Dudley, who crossed his arms anxiously.

“So... flowers, hey?” he asked.

Tilly ran to fetch a book from beside the television and handed it to Harry. He flipped through the pages as Dudley spoke. They were filled with neatly organised, newly-pressed flowers.

Dudley gestured to the book “She grew them - literally out of her hands. And then they started growing out of her cot. I wrote to you the next day.”

“She grew these flowers?”

“Yeah. We collected them - we thought we’d keep them for her as a memory,” Tilly said warmly. “If I press them properly, they should last.”

Harry cleared his throat. “You just learned about magic and decided to press her flowers as a keepsake?”

“Yeah.”

Harry glanced at Daisy in the cot. She was safe, happy, and nothing like he had feared.

Harry felt a little ashamed then, for assuming the worst about Dudley. 

“So... what do you think?” Dudley asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you think she’s... magic?” Dudley asked, fidgeting.

Harry laughed. “If she’s growing flowers at will? Yeah. I’d say she’s definitely magical.”

He watched Dudley and Tilly exchange glances, then studied them both.

“Why am I here?” Harry asked. “I don’t think you needed a second opinion.”

“I haven’t told Mum and Dad,” Dudley says bluntly.

“Ah,” Harry replied.

Tilly looked between them and rubbed her hands together. “Do you want tea? Let me put on some tea.” 

And before Harry knew it, he was sitting in the living room, bouncing baby Daisy on his lap while sipping tea with Dudley. So far, Daisy was a better conversationalist than Dudley - even if her vocabulary consisted mostly of “oooh” and “gah.” She seemed utterly fascinated by his glasses, reaching for them like a small, determined Seeker chasing a Snitch.

“I have a godson,” Harry said to Daisy, leaning back so his glasses were just out of reach. “His name’s Teddy, and he’s nearly five. I think he’d like a new playmate.”

“Do you think that’s possible?” Dudley asked.

“...I don’t see why not.”

“I didn’t expect you to be a kid person.” 

“I love kids,” Harry replied, straightening his glasses. “I have a lot of fun not locking them in cupboards.”

His eyes flicked up to Dudley. For a moment, Harry realised he might have been a tad cruel. Dudley fiddled nervously with the couch, finally voicing what he had been trying to say since Harry entered the house.

“I’m sorry, Harry. For-”

“It’s fine,” Harry says dismissively.

Dudley fell silent for a moment, as if trying to find the right words, before giving up and shifting the conversation. “So... Mum and Dad?”

“Right.” Harry sighed. “What’s your game plan?” 

“Keep it a secret until she goes to Hogwarts?” Dudley suggested. 

Harry stiffened slightly, “Hogwarts...” 

“Isn’t that where you went?” 

“It was.”

“Or maybe then... not Hogwarts,” Dudley said, reading into Harry’s discomfort and then suddenly started to overcorrect and overcompensate. “I don’t know. Are there other witch schools?”

Harry took a moment to breathe, unsure why he felt so antsy suddenly. Talking to Dudley about all this. Hearing the words “Magic” and “Hogwarts” come out of Dudley Dursley’s mouth so easily felt completely alien to Harry. His mind couldn’t quite comprehend it. 

Tilly, who had been watching from the kitchen, appeared by Harry’s side and gently took a yawning Daisy from his arms. “I’m going to put Miss Princess down for a nap, okay?”

Harry nodded and waved goodbye at Daisy before standing. He watched as she carried Daisy upstairs... To a bedroom? He assumed. 

Dudley rose and faced Harry, “Listen,” he began, “Harry, I really just want the best for Daisy. I don’t want her to have to go through what... uh.”

...what you had to go through. Harry gave him a flat look.

“Well, you know. I just… I want her to have a better experience than...”

...than you did. Harry’s expression remained unchanged.

“I mean, to put it properly- ”

“I get it,” Harry interrupted. “It’s fine. It’s good.”

“Mum and Dad are supposed to babysit in two weeks,” Dudley continued. “And... I can’t stop thinking about what might happen if she has... you know... A magic accident. Like you used to sometimes. I was wondering... Would it be okay if she stays with you instead?”

Harry blinked. “Are you asking me to babysit?”

He didn’t know why he faltered. He should have said yes immediately. But there was an undercurrent of unease here. The Dursleys were supposed to be a door long closed. A door he had never, ever, ever intended to open again. Ever. Like, ever. Ever. 

Dudley looked pained. “I’ll pay you, if you want. I’m not... I’m not gonna threaten you. Or anything.”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck as he thought. “Eleven years is a long time to hide this from Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.”

“Yeah,” Dudley muttered.

“I’ll help. Of course I will.” He looked up, stern. “But you’ve got to tell them the truth. A Hogwarts letter can’t be the first time they hear about this... for Daisy’s sake. You need to tell them. Soon.”

“I will.” 

Harry wiped his hands on his jeans and glanced around as Tilly reappeared. “I should get going.”

Dudley nods “Yeah, yeah. Um. Before you go. Should we be worried about the flower thing? I don’t know what to do.” 

Harry looked at Dudley and Tilly and smiled earnestly at the worried parents standing before him. “Just... keep doing what you’re doing. Honestly, it’s nice. And, dare I say, you seem weirdly... competent?” 

“Thanks.” Dudley said blankly. 

On his way out, Harry turned to Dudley. “By the way,” he said, beaming suddenly, catching both Dudley and Tilly off guard. “I have one of my own on the way. A baby. So soon Daisy will have more than just Teddy to play with.”

With a quick wink at Tilly and a look that said watch this, there was a crack, and Harry vanished entirely, leaving them blinking on the doorstep.

Tilly screamed excitedly. “Holy shit- Babe! I wanted to ask him to do magic so badly! I was itching. The whole time. I held myself back. And then - that was - he just... Poof! Gone!!!” She grabbed Dudley’s arm. “Our little Daisy is a witch, Dudders! A real-life bona fide witch!”

Tilly’s excitement faded slightly. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked, breathless.

“Felt awkward.”

Tilly scoffed.

“It did! It felt terrible. He didn’t want to be here, Till.”

“It’s your first time meeting in five years. Give it time.”

So yeah, that’s how Harry Potter, the boy who lived (twice), the saviour of the wizarding world, became a babysitter. 

Chapter Text

“So when Arthur heard - through the grapevine, mind you - that you went for a check-up, he went to check on you! Because - hush, don’t you interrupt me! Because you hide injuries all the time, you do! Only to find out you hadn’t gone to St. Mungo’s at all! What were we supposed to think, Harry!?”

Ginny and Mrs. Weasley were both fuming.

Their tempers only worsened when he admitted he’d skived off work to visit Dudley - “Of all people!”

But once Harry explained the whole story about Daisy, and how he’d been worried for her... even the angriest of the Weasleys had to back down.

“Well, you’ll have to bring her here, won’t you?”

“What do you want me to do? Bust out Sirius’s bike? She’s in London." Harry said, thinking logistics. 

“Dad can help,” Ginny said quickly. “We’ll Floo her here. There are safe ways to do it with little ones. It’s easier when they’re babies, actually.”

Mrs. Weasley crossed her arms. “You are not going back to that house alone for a whole weekend, Harry. And that child is not staying at Grimmauld Place. It’s not fit for a baby.”

Harry bit back the reminder that he was a grown man and could go to his cousin’s new apartment if he wanted. Frustratingly, she had a few good points. 

He ran those points by Dudley and Tilly. They all agreed. The Burrow was perfect for Daisy that weekend and Tilly nearly hyperventilated with excitement at the thought of traveling through the fire.

In what felt like no time at all, two weeks had flown by, and Harry found himself helping Arthur bring Dudley, Tilly, and Daisy to the Burrow.

"Dudley look! Look! Look at this clock. All these faces. How wonderful." Tilly’s voice rang through the kitchen as Ginny gave her a quick tour. 

“This is… cool, Harry,” Dudley said, wide-eyed, taking in the cosy chaos of the house. The soft rugs, the smell of home-cooked food, the warmth that seeped in from every corner. 

Seeing Dudley gawking in the middle of The Burrow sparked something in Harry that he hadn’t expected. Not quite anger, something heavier. This was his. The burrow had always been Harry's home. His escape from the Dursleys. And he couldn’t help but feel that Dudley was being invasive all of a sudden.

He forced a polite smile, but deep down he just wanted them gone. He rubbed his forehead out of habit, irritation pricking under his skin. That is until he caught Daisy’s wide-eyed stare, and the feeling eased…

Ron made the situation both worse and better. He made his disapproval of Dudley unmistakably clear.

“Where is she? Where’s the newest little spellcaster?” Ron called loudly, rifling through kitchen cupboards and peeking under tables - and when he spotted her- “Oh, there she is! In her loving mother’s arms. Just making sure she didn’t end up in the pantry,” he added with a relieved sigh. 

Even Mrs. Weasley didn’t scold him.

Dudley, getting the hint, muttered something about leaving, and he and Tilly shuffled toward the Floo where Mr. Weasley was waiting to take them back. 

Dudley tried a bit of small talk with Harry before he and Tilly departed, but Harry stayed stony. “We’ll drop her home Monday morning when you’re back.” Then for Dudley’s sake, who now looked a little stressed, he added, “She’ll be fine. I’ve got your spare phone. I’ll call if there’s a problem.”

Once Mr. Weasley had escorted Dudley and Tilly home, the house felt immediately lighter. Harry allowed himself to finally relax. Ron noticed the change right away. “You right, mate?”

Harry stared at Daisy, perched in Mrs. Weasley’s lap, being spoiled absolutely rotten. “Yeah,” he said quietly. Even if he didn’t want to, he would have to open this door to Dudley - for her sake, even if only for one weekend.

One weekend turned into another. And before long, Harry was seeing Daisy every week or so.

While Mrs. Weasley had insisted he avoid Dudley’s place at first, over time she had relaxed. (Harry was an adult, by the way, and he could go to Dudley’s new place if he wanted without her permission. Really.)

Whether Daisy came to the Burrow or Harry went to her, it worked. The best days were when Teddy tagged along, turning the visits into chaotic adventures.

Harry and Daisy grew closer, and he loved it. Dudley and Harry, on the other hand, did not. He still wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Tilly had a bit more leeway with “Harry’s wizarding family,” as Dudley described them.

“Actually,” George cut in, his tone light but firm, “we’re just his family.”

“Right,” Dudley muttered, scratching his head.

Tilly and Ginny got along so well that Harry briefly wondered if Ginny had fallen out of love with him and was planning to run off with Tilly instead. But no. They were just “bonding over the ins-and-outs of muggle vs. magical pregnancy,” they explained. 

Ginny had taken a break from Quidditch and was spending more time at the Burrow, delighting in keeping Teddy and Daisy entertained.

“It’s good practice!” she smiled broadly, tapping her stomach lightly. “For Ginny-Junior when she arrives.”

“I dunno,” Harry taunted. “I hear the Potter genes are pretty strong. Copy-paste. Could be a James 3.0.”

“Have you not SEEN my family?” Ginny leaned down and whispered to her bump, “Don’t listen to him, baby. Be a redhead like me. You can do it.”

“One of us, one of us - hey, play nice!” Harry yelled as Ginny shoved a hand over his mouth.

After about three months of babysitting and playdates, Harry and Dudley hadn’t improved. In fact, they’d reached a new level of awkwardness.

It got so bad that even Ron started to ease up on Dudley. “Blimey, seeing you talk with him is torture. I’m genuinely starting to pity the guy.”

To their credit, Dudley and Tilly were trying. They even did their “homework” as Tilly called it, speaking with Hermione at every opportunity to better understand the wizarding world. Tilly couldn’t get over the fact that Hermione, like Daisy, was Muggle-born!  

Harry was busy helping Daisy collect her things when he overheard his name drifting from the next room. Naturally, he stopped to listen.

“So… he’s, like, famous?”

“Famous is an understatement,” Hermione admitted.

“Dudley. You never told me any of this!”

“I didn’t know. He never really… mentioned it.”

Yeah, Harry thought, rolling his eyes. Cause if I ever did mentioned it, I’d have the stuffing knocked out of me.

Harry stepped into the doorway before they could continue. “Miss Daisy,” he announced, “is ready to go home. She’s decided on an early bedtime. No complaints allowed.” 

And Harry scooped her up, depositing her into Tilly’s waiting arms.

“Thanks, Harry,” Tilly said, a new sort of wonder in her eyes as she looked at him. Harry felt his face go hot and nodded.

A few days later, Dudley tried to bring up Hogwarts again in a clear attempt to bond. 

Harry waved a hand. “Oh you know. It was a school. Bit drafty. Trolls sometimes.” Then he shut right down and pretended to focus very hard on his tea.

Harry wanted to blame Dudley so badly. But Dudley was trying... really trying.

Which meant that the absolute stupid idiot who couldn’t hold a proper conversation… was him. 

He closed his eyes, letting out a long, wallowing sigh.

What Harry didn’t notice was when Hermione slid up to Dudley, chatting to him softly about something that made him straighten just a little.

She was quietly reassuring him that she and Harry hadn’t always been friends… Harry had only warmed to her after they’d fought a troll together. Actually... Now that she thought about it, he hadn’t warmed to Ginny until he’d saved her from a giant snake... hadn’t warmed to Fred and George until they’d rescued him from Privet Drive in a flying car... hadn’t warmed to Fleur until she’d risked her life alongside him in the Tournament... and even Neville and Luna had only truly earned his trust after standing with him against Death Eaters at the Department of Mysteries.

“How funny,” she muttered to herself, as if she’d just unlocked some hidden truth. “You can’t just sit and have tea with him, can you?”

Dudley paled at the thought of needing to face a troll (or worse???) just to win his cousin over. 

Ron found this whole thing hysterical. 

“Honestly,” Harry muttered, “it was easier and less painful when he just punched me.”

George, naturally, punched him in the arm.

“Ow!” Harry yelped, laughing as Mrs Weasley immediately swatted George with a tea towel.

“George Weasley!”

“Always playing favourites,” George muttered. Ron grumbled an agreement.

Harry rubbed his arm, shot George a look, and grinned. “Thank you, Mrs. Weasley,” he said loudly. Earnestly. George and Ron groaned. Hermione laughed from the side-lines. But Mrs. Weasley beamed, suckered in by the charm. 

“Need I remind you, Mum, you’re protecting the literal saviour of the wizarding world,” George stated. “The only guy who doesn’t need it.” 

“He’s getting all these suck-up, manipulator hints from Ginny,” Ron muttered. “She’s her favourite too. We can’t ever win.”

“Damn straight,” Ginny said, walking past them, punching Ron on her way through.

Chapter Text

Dudley and Tilly nearly tripped over themselves trying to get Harry to watch Daisy on Sunday morning. It was last minute, but Ginny and Hermione had a girls’ day planned… Whatever that meant. So he’d agreed to pop by to their place. 

He’d put on a random animated movie for background noise, and Daisy was happily tapping away on her toy keyboard in her cot as he gently rocked it, hoping she’d fall asleep. It was well past her nap time. 

All the while, he was skimming through case notes for work that had to be read by Monday - follow-ups on minor incidents, witness statements, and leftover paperwork from recent Department of Magical Law Enforcement cases. Overall, it was a pretty relaxing day. 

Well… relaxing apart from Daisy’s barbaric piano playing. “It’s a good thing you have magical talents,” Harry chatted at her, “because I think your musical talents still need a bit of work.”

She only played louder and more obnoxiously. He squinted at her, playfully. “Still not doing it for me, sorry. Why don’t you play a tune I actually know?”

She giggled at this, delighted. “No,” she said. Her new favourite word. 

She’d already mastered mama and dada, and kitty whenever Crookshanks was around. 

“Kitty” again for any owl or gnome she saw. 

And “kitty” once for Ron, too. Hermione had loved that.

Harry beamed down at her. He’d kissed a (very) pregnant Ginny goodbye that morning, and with the due date inching closer, he was beginning to feel the mild panic that came with impending parenthood. On top of that, he’d also just signed papers for a place of their own. That was also very adult. Go, Harry.

A sudden screech of rubber on asphalt outside made Harry whip his head around. What in the world?

He placed the parchments back in his bag and stood, ready to investigate when he heard the unmistakable sound of keys turning in the front door. 

Harry glanced at the clock. Dudley was two hours early. 

Then the door swung open…

Oh.

Since the war, Harry’s nightmares had eased. Now they come only occasionally - maybe once or twice a week. Or, judging by what was happening right in front of him, right this very instant.

Had he drifted off while trying to lull Daisy to sleep?

Yes. That had to be it. He’d simply fallen asleep on the couch while she blasted her questionable and unidentifiable tunes in the background.

Harry’s stomach dropped as Uncle Vernon’s beady, angry eyes locked onto him from across the living room.

“You!” Vernon shouted.

Time slowed.

The fifty-seven-year-old man charged like a raging bull, bouldering straight toward him.

Harry didn’t move. Because, again, he told himself, this was a dream. This wasn’t happening.

The man's sausage fingers wrapped around Harry’s neck. Vernon tried to stop. Tried. But his belly had other plans. The sheer momentum of his massive form carried him forward, and suddenly the two of them went crashing to the floor. Harry’s world tilted - and he was flattened under the full, crushing weight of Uncle Vernon.

And as his head cracked against the floor, the truth hit him. He wasn't dreaming. Vernon was real. Screaming obscenities. Throttling him. Right there. In Dudley’s living room.

“Get off me!” Harry roared, finally fighting back.

“You’re the reason! She’s been contaminated because of you! You and your lot!” Vernon flailed like a demented windmill and, amidst the chaos, one of his elbows connected with Harry’s nose. CRACK. Welcome back, Harry! 

Unable to reach his wand, Harry shouted again, “Get. OFF!” and Vernon was catapulted back into the living room table that fell apart instantly.

Stunned, Harry scrambled upright, finally seizing his wand and pointing it at the man. He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. “You nearly squashed me!” Harry gasped out, reaching up to touch his nose. Broken. Brilliant.

“Petunia! He’s got his wand!” Vernon barked, then whirled toward Harry as he made his way to his feet once more. “Give her back to us right now!” 

Harry raised his wand. “Back off.” 

“She started out as a normal baby. She was never like you! What did you do to her?” 

Harry didn’t dignify that with a response. His eyes flicked to the entrance and he saw Aunt Petunia rush in. She stepped forward, stiff as a broomstick. Harry made a point of standing between the cot and his relatives. Keeping them at a distance. 

“Potter,” Aunt Petunia said in her no-nonsense tone, “Hand her over please. And leave.”

“No.” Harry countered, stubbornly. “She’s staying here with me, until Dudley comes back. You leave.” 

Petunia stepped closer. Harry shifted his wand, levelling it at her. “Back off.”

“This is kidnapping.” 

“It’s not kidnapping!” Harry snapped back, heart hammering. “She lives here!”

“Ring the police!” Vernon yells “They’ll want to know that there is a dangerous maniac in our house, threatening our granddaughter!”

Harry noticed his hands were shaking. Hot blood trickled down his face, sticky and distracting. Daisy’s starting to cry behind him. 

Keep it together, Potter. 

He keeps his wand pointed at the two of them, thinking quickly. And then, when he can’t take Daisy’s crying any more, he points the wand at Vernon. 

“Incarcerous” Harry mutters. And Ropes whip out from the tip of his wand, snapping tight around Vernon before he can take another step. “Sit” Harry says and with a flick of his wand Vernon toppled onto the couch with a thump.

“Vern!” Petunia’s voice shrieked, eyes horror-stricken.

Daisy’s crying spiked, relentless. Harry moved back to her play area, scooped her up, keeping his wand raised toward Petunia.

“You sit too,” he said, one arm holding Daisy. With the other, he dabbed at his face, trying not to lower his wand as blood continued to trickle. Vernon was shrieking. Daisy was shrieking. And Petunia’s eyes shot towards the landline. 

She shot one panicked glance back at Harry before making a beeline for the phone.

A quick wave of his wand and her feet froze to the carpet, stuck fast, as Harry calmly adjusted his hold on Daisy. 

Lowering his wand, Harry wrapped both arms around Daisy and she finally started to hush. 

Vernon spoke slowly and accusingly, “We knew something was up. We knew, didn’t we? When Dudley stopped including us in plans. And when he stopped bringing Daisy over. For four months! All these secrets! We just knew you had something to do with it.” 

“I didn’t do anything!” Harry snapped, seething. 

A vase shattered and a few windows cracked. Everyone flinched. Okay, dial it in, Harry. Dial it in. 

Harry turned and stormed towards the exit. 

“Potter.” Petunia craned her body around awkwardly to look at him “Where are you taking her?”

Harry gritted his teeth. “Outside. Stay here. And you better be quiet unless you want your neighbours to check in and see you like this.”

And he left them like that. Vernon tied on the couch and Petunia stuck to the carpet.

Outside, he placed Daisy gently on the front lawn and sat next to her. 

He hadn’t felt like this in a long while. He was really fighting the urge to run for it. 

They’d reacted exactly like he thought they would, Harry thought bitterly, they hadn’t changed a bit! Still as stubborn and mean as ever. He looked down at Daisy and she looked up at him with big blue eyes.

“How do I look?” he asked, gesturing to his nose. “Better… or worse?”

She stared up at him and raised a tiny finger, pointing to his face. “Ow.”

“Better then? An improvement?” Harry brought out his wand again and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes, “Episkey,” He muttered. It cracked back into place and warm blood trickled once again and Harry used his sleeve to stop the flow. 

He didn’t know if it was the pain of his nose snapping back into place, or just the ridiculousness of being body-slammed by Vernon, but Harry’s eyes began to water. 

He took a few moments and made an effort to clean his face. 

Daisy held her hand up to Harry, her palm flat, and a single flower blossomed. 

“For me?” He took it and then flicked his wand above Daisy, sending a handful of flowers drifting down. She reached up to catch them, missing every single one, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh. She did this every time. 

And that’s when Dudley’s car swerves into the street and parks with a mighty screech.

“Harry!” He stuck his head out, spotting his parents' car. “Mum and Dad - “ 

“They’re inside.” 

Dudley took a breath and ran both hands over his hair. “We told them. I told them the truth and they ran off. I didn’t realise that they would come here.” He walks over and then gapes at Harry as he stands with Daisy securely in his arms. “You’re bleeding!” 

“I’m just relieved to see that they took the news so well." Harry remarked dryly, looking back into the house. Harry’s hands were still shaking. The rage hadn’t left him yet.

“Let me-” Dudley held out his hands, ready to grab Daisy, but Harry only pulled her closer. 

“You can’t let them.” Harry started, anger sharpening every word. “You can’t let them have her, Dudley. You can’t. I’ll take her. I will. We’ve got - You’ve been there. The burrow. We’ve got space. I’m sure you can stay for a bit. Until we get this all sorted out.” Harry breathes hard, at a loss. “I know you care about her.”

“I care about you too.”

“I broke a vase and tied Vernon up,” Harry admitted bitterly. “I think Petunia’s going to call the police if she hasn’t already. I glued her shoes to the floor - don’t think she’s realised she can just step out of them.” 

Dudley reached out for Daisy again and Harry handed her over, feeling sick as he noticed his blood smudged across her clothes.

They stood in silence for a beat. Harry was still trembling and simmering.

Dudley, on the other hand, looked completely blank. On brand for him, Harry supposes. 

“Didn’t you like… Defeat the evil wizard” Dudley asks stupidly. 

“Yeah.” 

“Do you think you can come inside with me ‘cause… I need some of that evil wizard defeating backup for this.” 

“Oh, that was easier than this,” Harry gave him a wry look. “Way easier.”

Chapter Text

“If you want me and Daisy in your life, you need to accept that she’s a witch.”

Vernon sat, still bound, and Petunia was now sitting politely beside him - barefoot. 

“Duddikins, it’s just that… maybe we should take her to an actual doctor. A human doctor,” she pleaded.

Harry’s wand sat in his back pocket but his fingers were itching. Petunia pressed on. “We can’t be rash. Perhaps, if she’s lucky, we’ll discover she has some medical condition! Maybe it’s curable? Wouldn’t that be nice!”

“No.” Dudley said simply. 

“Oooh, he has twisted your mind!” Vernon looked like he was ready to burst from the ropes binding him. “He’s got you under some spell, Dudley! Some mind bending nonsense. They can do that, you know! You nearly died! Don’t you remember that?”

“No. He hasn’t,” Dudley said firmly. “And I didn’t almost die… it was a soul thing.” He glanced at Harry.

“Yeah, they suck out your soul.” Harry said lightly, knowing he wasn’t helping their case at all. 

“Same thing!”

“Please,” Petunia was careful, “you're not thinking of the risks, Dudley. Living with Magic is dangerous.”

“Magic isn’t something you can just turn on and off like a switch,” Harry snapped at her, irritated. 

“Harry’s right. Daisy is a witch, she’s had these powers for months now. And…” Dudley glanced at Harry, “I want to make sure she’s supported. And I want her to have Magic. In her life. I want Harry to be there. And I want her to know about Lily too.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. He hadn’t expected Dudley to stand up for him like this. And certainly not his mother. Before now, Harry didn’t think he’d ever heard Lily’s name from his cousin’s mouth. Ever. 

“Lily is dead because she bought into magic, and we are here, alive, because I didn’t.” Petunia’s gaze locked on Harry.

The familiar sting in his chest flared.

“Exactly,” Vernon said gruffly. “His parents gallivanting about is the reason he ended up on our doorstep at all. We took him in despite him being-” 

“A burden? A freak? Demented? Unnatural?” Harry listed off, throwing the words like suggestions in case Vernon wanted to pick one. “Oh, a waste of space. That one’s a classic. Very effective.” Uncle Vernon glared at him. 

“You’re acting as if we didn’t live in hiding for over a year because of you and your lot, boy…” he growled, face red.

“Daisy’s not a burden,” Dudley said slowly. “She’s my girl. She’s your granddaughter.”

“No, she could never be a burden! Never. We love her. We love you!” Petunia’s lips pressed tight. “But maybe there’s a way - we could keep her. Work together. Talk it out. She could still go to a normal school, have normal friends. We could show her what normal life is supposed to be!”

“That’s right!” Vernon cheered. “Raise her right and she’ll never want anything else!”

Petunia leaned forward, eyes darting between them. “Wouldn’t that be nice? Giving her that opportunity? That choice? We messed up once, but we know better. We can do it differently this time.”

Messed up? Harry opened his mouth to bite back - but Dudley held up a hand.

“Harry was never a burden. And I don’t want you talking bad about him anymore,” Dudley insisted firmly and with finality. “So. If you want me and Daisy in your life, you need to accept that she’s a witch.”

Petunia acted like she'd been slapped across the face and she let out a few dramatic sobs into Vernon’s shoulder. “Untie me woman, Untie me!” He was whispering. 

Dudley lifted Daisy, snoozing in her carrier, and gestured to Harry. Together, they started toward the door.

“We’re going to Harry’s place,” Dudley said over his shoulder. “I’ll be back later. You two decide if you want to see us again.”

Chapter Text

And just like that, Harry could talk to Dudley.

The four-and-a-half hour car ride to the Burrow was one of the best Harry had ever had! Second only to the flying car with Ron, obviously.

But this time, it wasn’t danger or adventure that made it memorable. It was Dudley. They’d just faced the Dursleys together, and somehow the usual walls between them felt smaller.

They spoke the whole way there, laughing, joking... and somehow the old, horrible memories of the Dursleys turned into stories that they shared.

Harry didn’t know what had changed exactly but he didn’t disagree when Dudley said he felt like they had managed to defeat a troll or two today.

When they finally pulled into the Burrow, Ron poked his head out the window, eyes narrowing immediately at Dudley... and at the streaks of blood down Harry’s front. Ron whipped out his wand, and Harry threw up his hands.

“It’s okay," he said, beaming. "You should’ve seen it. I got flattened. He was brilliant."

Of course, the Weasleys swept them all inside. Mrs. Weasley tutted and fussed over Harry grimly, as if she’d been expecting something like this to happen, while Mr. Weasley pulled him into a one-armed hug and told him he’d done a good thing helping Daisy.

“It’s a miracle you turned out the way you did," he said. "living with people like that,”

Harry laughed, knocked his arm away, and gave Mr. Weasley a proper hug, holding him a little longer than necessary, before doing the same with Mrs. Weasley, whispering his thanks and letting them know that if he and Ginny ever managed to raise their children right, it would be thanks to Molly and Arthur’s example.

Meanwhile, Dudley had settled into the lounge, retelling the story to George and Ron. Finally, earning just enough respect from them to be allowed to stay in the same room. 

Later, Daisy was yelling and chasing Teddy through the Burrow’s garden, both of them streaked with mud and flower petals.

Harry leaned against the fence beside Dudley.

“She’s got your temper,” Harry joked and Dudley gave him a good-natured, loving punch in the arm.