Chapter 5 - Typical? Summer Evening

Severus stepped into the room, his presence shifting the mood in an instant. Aunt Marge, seated near the end of the table, raised an eyebrow but said nothing, her scientific mind observing the man with quiet curiosity. The rest of the family, sensing the tension between Petunia and Severus, quickly began clearing away the remnants of dinner. Harry helped stack the dishes, his eyes constantly flicking toward the mysterious visitor. Dudley, still slightly flushed from the meal, gathered up the cutlery while Vernon stood by the doorway, his gaze wary.

Once the table was cleared, they all moved to the sitting room. The furniture was well-worn but comfortable, arranged in a semicircle around a modest fireplace. A large bookshelf stood against one wall, filled with books on coding, science, and a few scattered novels. The faint hum of the evening outside could be heard through the windows, and the soft ticking of a wall clock marked the passing moments.

Petunia sat stiffly on the edge of her seat, her posture rigid as she glanced toward Severus, who stood near the doorway, his dark eyes sweeping the room before settling on her. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, the knuckles white. Harry, Dudley, and Vernon took their seats, while Aunt Marge remained standing, her curiosity piqued, though she held her tongue.

After a long, tense silence, Petunia spoke, her voice slightly strained but steady. "I suppose it's time I told you all something I've kept quiet for far too long," she began, her eyes darting to Harry before looking back down at her hands. "It's about Lily. My sister."

The room seemed to still, the air thick with anticipation. Harry leaned forward, sensing that this was about his mother—a part of his life that had always been shrouded in mystery.

Petunia took a deep breath, her lips pressing into a thin line as she gathered her thoughts. "Lily... she was a witch. She went to study at a place called Hogwarts—a school for magic."

Harry's eyes widened, but he said nothing, waiting for her to continue. Aunt Marge, usually quick with a quip, remained silent, her scientific curiosity battling with her disbelief.

Petunia's gaze drifted, her mind clearly pulling her back to the past. "At first, I was… jealous," she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Lily was always the special one. Always the center of attention. She had this gift, and I… well, I didn't. I was just her ordinary sister."

She paused, her eyes unfocused as memories flooded back. "But over time, I realized that wasn't what mattered. I had my own passion. Coding, computers, software—that was my world, my escape. While Lily was off at Hogwarts, learning magic, I was diving deeper into programming. It didn't matter that our paths were different—we still found ways to stay close."

A faint smile flickered across her lips. "Every summer, when she came home, we'd go shopping together. She'd take me to this place called Diagon Alley. It was… surreal. A whole street hidden away from the rest of the world, full of strange shops and magical things. We didn't always understand each other's worlds, but we shared them."

Flashback

It was a warm summer day. Petunia stood on the cobbled street of Diagon Alley, eyes wide with wonder as she watched Lily dart between shops, her robes flowing behind her. Petunia was dressed in her usual jeans and t-shirt, feeling out of place but fascinated. While Lily eagerly browsed cauldrons and spellbooks, Petunia found herself staring at the intricate machinery in one shop window—a magical clock with gears that spun in ways she couldn't quite understand. It reminded her of the code she'd been working on all summer, lines of text that created something larger, more complex.

Despite the vast differences between them, the sisters laughed and shopped together, sharing stories of their respective schools. For every magical potion Lily showed Petunia, Petunia shared the latest tech trick or computer program she was working on. They didn't always understand each other's passions, but the bond between them was undeniable.

Flashback End

Petunia's smile faded as she came back to the present, her eyes now distant. "But then, a professor came. One of the teachers from Hogwarts. He introduced magic to our family—told us what Lily was capable of." She glanced briefly at Severus before continuing. "That's when things started to change. Magic became… real. Tangible. And dangerous."

Severus, who had remained silent this whole time, shifted slightly, his dark eyes glinting with something unspoken. Petunia's gaze met his briefly, and something unspoken passed between them—an old pain, perhaps, or a regret long buried.

Harry, who had been listening intently, looked between his aunt and Severus, trying to piece together the puzzle of his mother's past. Vernon, sitting stiffly in his armchair, glanced at his wife, clearly uncomfortable but unwilling to interrupt.

Aunt Marge, her sharp eyes narrowing, finally spoke. "So, this… magic business. It's real, then?" Her voice held none of the usual sarcasm, only curiosity.

"Yes," Petunia replied, her voice flat. "It's real."

There was another moment of silence, broken only by the distant sound of a car passing by outside. The room felt heavy with history—layers of it, built over years of secrets and suppressed memories.

"Severus," Petunia finally said, turning to him, her voice softer now, almost resigned. "Why are you here? After all this time?"

Severus, who had been standing quietly, finally spoke, his deep voice resonating in the stillness. "There are things Harry needs to know," he said, his gaze briefly flicking toward the boy before returning to Petunia. "Things about his parents. And about the world he comes from."

Harry straightened in his seat, his heart pounding. There was so much he didn't know, so much he had been kept in the dark about. And now, it seemed, those answers were finally within reach.

Petunia's expression hardened for a moment, but then she sighed, a deep, weary sound. "Then tell him," she said quietly. "It's time he knew."

As the weight of the past settled over the room, the Dursleys and Harry sat in silent anticipation, waiting for the truths that had been buried for so long to finally come to light.

Petunia's stern gaze locked onto Snape, her eyes sharp, unwavering. The tension between them thickened, but she didn't flinch. Snape, standing tall, met her gaze without hesitation, though there was an unspoken understanding in the slight nod of his head.

"I'll explain first," she began, her voice cold but controlled, a slight tremor betraying the emotion beneath the surface. "I think Harry deserves to hear my reasons for why I kept him, and everyone else, in the dark about Lily's world."

Harry glanced up at his aunt, surprised. He'd never seen her like this—so resolute, so ready to confront something she had long kept hidden.

Petunia turned her focus to the room, her voice dropping slightly, as though she was pulling herself back to a memory that still stung. "It was the winter of 2001—December, I think. The days were short, and the nights bitterly cold." Her voice softened, taking on an almost distant quality as the past unfolded in her mind.

"One evening, out of nowhere, there was a knock on our door. No warning. No call ahead. Nothing. And when I opened the door, there he was." Her eyes flickered toward Harry, and for a brief second, her expression softened, though it quickly hardened again. "You were just a baby then, bundled up and left on our doorstep. No explanation, no proper goodbye."

The room seemed to close in around Harry. He could feel Dudley shift slightly next to him, but his cousin remained silent, eyes fixed on their aunt.

"All they left was a letter." Petunia's voice sharpened. "It said Lily and James were dead. Killed in some conflict in that wizarding world of yours." She spat the words, her frustration barely contained. "It said I was the only living relative of Harry's, and that I was to take him in."

Petunia's hands clenched together, knuckles white with the memory. "No details about what happened. No information. Just… take him in."

Snape stood motionless, listening. His dark eyes betrayed little, but his silence spoke volumes. He didn't interrupt, and neither did anyone else. It was as if the room had collectively held its breath.

"I tried," Petunia continued, her tone shifting slightly, as if she were still grasping for an explanation that had never come. "I tried contacting Lily. She'd given me a mirror—a magical one—to stay in touch. I thought maybe… somehow… she'd respond. But there was nothing. No answer. No one came. Not even the so-called best friends of James, your father," she said, glancing at Harry, her words growing sharper. "Months passed. We waited. I didn't know how to reach out to the wizarding world. I didn't belong there, but neither did you, Harry."

Harry felt a pang in his chest, a confusion he couldn't quite shake. He had never known that this was how he had come to live with the Dursleys. All his life, he'd been told he was an unwelcome burden, but here was a different story—one he had never expected.

Petunia wasn't done yet. She stood, rising from her seat, her voice growing stronger. "I raised you, Harry, without the slightest clue what you were. What you might become. And for years, there was no word. No visits. No one from that world cared to check in on you. On us."

Her sharp words cut through the air, and Harry saw a flicker of pain behind them—an old wound that had never healed.

"So yes, I kept the truth from you. Not out of spite. Not because I wanted to punish you. But because I was angry. Angry that they left you with me, without a single explanation. Angry that no one thought to check on how you were doing. And because I didn't want to drag you into a world that had cost my sister her life."

The silence that followed was heavy, the weight of Petunia's words pressing down on everyone in the room. Harry felt a mix of emotions swirling within him—shock, confusion, even a hint of understanding.

Petunia turned to Severus, her voice lower now, though still laced with a quiet bitterness. "So tell me, Severus. Where was the wizarding world for all those years? Where were you?"

Snape, who had been standing in composed silence, finally took a slow breath, his eyes narrowing slightly. The weight of the unspoken words hung between them as he considered his response.

Snape shook his head slightly, keeping his composure intact. His demeanor was professional, though there was a weight behind his words as he began to speak.

"The circumstances of James and Lily Potter's deaths," Snape said, his voice low and deliberate, "are still considered highly controversial in the wizarding world. Their deaths were not just a tragic accident—they almost sparked a full-scale wizarding war. Magical Britain was on the verge of conflict, one that could have easily spread across Europe."

He paused, his gaze briefly flickering toward Harry, whose expression was a mix of confusion and concern.

"At that time," Snape continued, "our priority was to ensure Harry's safety. He was a child, but to many in the wizarding world, he represented something larger—a potential symbol, a rallying point. While no blame was placed on him directly, there were many who would have used him, or worse, harmed him, to settle old scores. He would have been caught in the retaliation and crossfire from that event. That is why we took the drastic measure of avoiding contact with him or any association that could lead others to him."

Petunia narrowed her eyes, her expression stern and unyielding. "That was years ago," she said sharply. "What about more recently? The danger surely lessened. Why did no one even attempt to contact us discreetly in recent years?"

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Snape's posture remained rigid, but there was a subtle shift in his tone, a quiet acknowledgment of the truth. "The danger did lessen. But by the time it was safe enough, many assumed that Harry's life here was... ordinary, undisturbed. The Ministry of Magic believed that leaving him with you, without interference, was the best course of action."

Petunia's lips pressed into a thin line, her frustration clearly bubbling beneath the surface. "And who decided that? What gave anyone the right to make that decision without asking us? Without even telling me?"

Snape's gaze softened slightly, though his voice remained firm. "It was not ideal. But the decision was made in haste, out of fear for what might happen if Harry were reintroduced to the wizarding world too soon. It wasn't personal, Petunia. It was a matter of survival."

The room fell into a tense silence. Harry's mind was racing, trying to reconcile the story he was hearing with the reality he had known for so long. His aunt, who had seemed so distant, was now revealing truths he'd never imagined. And Snape—who had always been such a figure of mystery—was pulling back the curtain on a past far more complicated than Harry had ever guessed.

Petunia finally spoke, her voice tight. "Well, Harry isn't just some symbol or pawn. He's my nephew, and he deserved better. You all could have checked in at some point. But you didn't."

Snape's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. Instead, he glanced toward Harry, his expression unreadable. The silence that followed was heavy, the air thick with unsaid words, each person in the room grappling with the revelations and the weight of the past.

Vernon, who had been watching the conversation unfold in stony silence, leaned forward, his brows furrowed. His voice was sharp, cutting through the tension in the room. "Till now, you've danced around the subject, Snape. But you've never actually explained the circumstances behind James and Lily Potter's deaths. What really happened?"

Snape's eyes flicked to Vernon, observing him with a cool detachment before speaking. "First of all," he began, his tone measured, "I want to make it clear that the full circumstances surrounding James and Lily Potter's deaths remain unclear to this day. Much of what transpired is shrouded in conflicting accounts, and the truth has become tangled in political agendas."

He paused, his dark eyes scanning the room, briefly meeting Harry's uncertain gaze before turning back to Vernon. "What is known is this: James and Lily Potter attacked a highly respected individual—a person of significant influence in our world. They killed one of his companions in the fight that followed, and in the ensuing chaos, they were killed themselves in what can only be described as self-defense."

There was a collective intake of breath. Harry's eyes widened, while Petunia's expression hardened with disbelief. The atmosphere grew even tenser as Snape continued.

"However," Snape said, his voice dropping slightly, "the situation is far more complicated than it appears. Their deaths are not just a personal tragedy but are intertwined with the deep political divides in wizarding Britain. The event ignited further tensions between three major political factions in our society."

He began to explain, his words slow and deliberate, as if weighing each one. "The first group consists of Muggle-borns, Half-bloods, and some progressive Pure-bloods, who are pushing for greater equality in our world. They seek to modernize our laws, to ensure that all witches and wizards, regardless of their birth, have equal rights."

Snape shifted slightly, his gaze sharpening as he continued. "The second group is composed of those who are acutely aware of the rapidly advancing Muggle technology—your world, Vernon, is progressing faster than most magicals can comprehend. Some of us are concerned about the long-term impact this will have on the magical community. We believe that the magical world cannot remain hidden forever if Muggles continue to develop technology that might one day uncover our existence."

He glanced at Petunia, acknowledging her connection to both worlds, before adding, "And then there is the third faction: the traditionalists. These are Pure-bloods and Half-bloods who believe in maintaining the sanctity of magical culture. They wish to protect the privileges and influence they currently hold, fearing that any integration or equalization with Muggle-borns would erode the very essence of our society."

The room seemed to darken as Snape delivered this last point, his voice edged with a subtle disdain for the more radical elements of the third faction.

Vernon leaned back in his chair, his face unreadable, but the tension in his body was palpable. "So, James and Lily... they were caught up in all of this?" Vernon's voice had lost some of its edge, replaced by a kind of reluctant understanding.

Snape inclined his head. "Yes. And their deaths, whether intended or not, became a catalyst for deeper political turmoil. They were not innocent victims, nor were they monsters. But their actions that night—and the choices they made leading up to it—had far-reaching consequences."

Harry felt a cold weight settle in his chest. He looked to his aunt and uncle, whose faces reflected a mixture of shock and concern. His gaze then shifted back to Snape, who was now standing quietly, his expression unreadable.

"So," Vernon said, his voice gruff but not unkind, "this is all about politics? All this time, Harry's been caught in the middle of some bloody wizarding civil war?"

"Not quite a civil war," Snape corrected, "but yes, Harry's presence—his very existence—is politically significant to certain groups. That is why so many have been watching from the shadows, waiting."

The room fell silent again, the weight of this new reality settling over them like a thick fog. Harry's mind raced, trying to piece together the fragments of his parents' story and the life he'd lived so far, one that had unknowingly been shaped by forces far beyond his control.

Petunia shook her head, still in disbelief, her hands gripping the edge of her chair. "I don't believe it," she said firmly, her voice wavering slightly. "James and Lily... terrorists? Especially Lily? That doesn't make sense. She was so happy after Harry was born in 2000. We met regularly, discussed all sorts of things. Sure, she had her concerns—mostly about the rapid growth of Muggle technology and the need for equal rights in the magical world—but she was never radical. She wasn't some... extremist."

Her gaze moved to Harry, as though to reassure him of the mother he'd never truly known. "Lily and James both had an influence from Muggle research methodology. They were curious, dedicated to finding new things in magic. She wasn't one to throw all of that away for some violent cause."

Snape listened intently, his face remaining impassive, though there was a flicker of something—perhaps regret or hesitation—crossing his features. He nodded, acknowledging her words. "You're right," he said, his voice lower, more thoughtful. "Lily, especially, wasn't the type to take reckless actions. She was measured, always thinking ahead. And yes, she was concerned with the way the world was evolving—both the Muggle and the magical. James and Lily both had an interest in blending Muggle methodology with magic, and they were passionate about finding new ways to advance their knowledge."

He hesitated, glancing at Harry briefly, then back at Petunia, as if weighing his next words carefully. "What I'm about to tell you is purely theoretical—hypothetical, really," Snape began, his tone slightly softer, as if trying to prepare them for something unsettling. "There are some of us in the wizarding world who believe that something may have influenced James and Lily. It's a theory—no more than that—but it's possible that their minds were compromised at the time of the attack."

Petunia's eyes narrowed. "Compromised? How?"

Snape exhaled slowly, clearly reluctant to delve deeper, but knowing he had no choice now. "The person they attacked was someone they knew, someone they were on good terms with. That's what makes the incident so strange. They had no reason to turn on him so violently. And while the political tensions were rising, neither of them showed signs of aligning themselves with violent movements."

He paused again, his dark eyes scanning the room before focusing back on Petunia. "We suspect that something—someone—may have influenced their decisions that night. It's possible that their judgment was clouded, their emotions heightened, perhaps even through magical means. But, as I said, this is all speculation. There are no concrete answers, only fragments of theories."

The room was thick with tension. Petunia remained silent, processing Snape's words, while Harry sat frozen, absorbing the implications of what Snape had just revealed. Vernon, ever the pragmatist, leaned forward slightly, his expression unreadable but focused.

"Mind control?" Vernon muttered under his breath. "You're saying someone manipulated them?"

Snape didn't respond immediately, but his silence was telling. "There are magical forces capable of such things," he admitted. "But proving it—especially after so many years—would be nearly impossible."

Petunia looked away, her eyes drifting to a family photograph on the wall, as if seeking some form of clarity from the past. "Lily would never have allowed herself to be controlled like that," she whispered, more to herself than to anyone else.

Snape remained silent, giving her the space to process, but Harry's mind was racing. The idea that his parents had been influenced, manipulated into a situation that led to their deaths—it was too much to comprehend all at once.

And yet, in the back of his mind, a question lingered: If this is true, then who—

Snape blinked, his expression returning to its usual calm and collected demeanor. "Anyways," he began, "today I'm here to reintroduce Harry to the wizarding world. Typically, Harry should have received his letter in August, but given his unique circumstances, we felt it was necessary to make him aware early—on June 1st. Which is today."

With a swift, practiced movement, Snape reached into his cloak and handed a sealed envelope to Harry. The room was silent as Harry took it, feeling the weight of the moment. The seal on the envelope was an intricate "H" with a crest—Hogwarts' crest.

"Go on, open it," Snape prompted, his eyes watching Harry carefully.

Harry tore the envelope open, revealing its contents: an introductory letter to Hogwarts, signed by the deputy headmistress, Professor McGonagall. It welcomed him to the school and provided an overview of what his education would entail. Tucked within the letter was a small booklet titled Welcome to Hogwarts, which gave details about the four houses, the grounds, and the curriculum. There was also a recommended list of goods—casual clothes, uniforms, magical ingredients, textbooks, and a variety of magical instruments that Harry couldn't quite grasp yet.

Snape allowed Harry a moment to take in the information before speaking again. "Tomorrow morning, I will return to accompany you to Diagon Alley. You will need to purchase everything on that list and be introduced to the magical world firsthand."

Before Harry could respond, Vernon cleared his throat. "We'll all accompany Harry tomorrow," he said firmly, placing a supportive hand on Harry's shoulder. His tone left no room for argument. Vernon's stern expression softened slightly as he looked at Harry, a silent promise of support in his eyes.

Dudley, who had been unusually quiet and wide-eyed throughout the evening's events, suddenly grinned. "Of course we'll go!" he said, punching Harry's shoulder lightly in an affectionate gesture. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

Aunt Marge, who had been sitting with a fascinated look on her face ever since the topic of magic creatures was mentioned, leaned forward eagerly. "I'd love to come along, too—if that's all right, of course. Magical creatures, you say? I've always had an interest in the natural world. This could be... quite a unique opportunity."

Snape raised an eyebrow at the enthusiastic response but didn't object. He glanced at Petunia, who had been sitting in contemplative silence, her face still reflecting the seriousness of the conversation. After a moment, she gave a stiff nod. "Yes. We'll all go together tomorrow."

Snape stood, his black robes swirling around him as he prepared to leave. "Very well. Tomorrow morning, then." He turned to Harry, giving him a brief, almost imperceptible nod. "I'll be here at 9 o'clock sharp. Make sure you're ready."

With that, Snape walked toward the door. As he opened it, the cool evening air filtered into the house. He glanced back one last time, his eyes meeting Harry's. "Get some rest. Tomorrow is just the beginning."

And with a soft click of the door, Snape was gone.

The room was left in an odd stillness. Harry, clutching the Hogwarts letter in his hands, exchanged glances with his family. Despite the lingering tension from earlier revelations, there was a sense of unity now—a shared understanding that, no matter what came next, they would face it together.

----------------------------------------

That night, as Harry lay in his bed, the evening's events played out over and over in his mind. The day had started like any other, with his usual trip to the gym with Dudley and Vernon, but it had ended in a way he couldn't have imagined. Magic. A hidden world of spells, potions, creatures, and—uncomfortably—controversies surrounding his parents. He stared at the ceiling, the moonlight filtering through the curtains casting long shadows across his room.

"Is the magical world even safe for me?" Harry thought, a knot forming in his stomach. Snape's words replayed: his parents' deaths, the political unrest in the wizarding world, the fact that he had been hidden away for his own safety. But he wasn't a child anymore, and if he was going to enter this new world, he needed to be prepared.

Suddenly, an idea sparked. Harry had always been an avid planner, especially when it came to his Dungeons & Dragons campaigns. His characters were always carefully thought out, meticulously designed. This would be no different.

"First, I need to know what I'm working with," he thought, beginning to mentally draft a plan. "If this were a D campaign, I'd analyze my race, my class, the specific skills and abilities I have access to."

He knew he was a wizard—or at least, that's what Snape had implied—but what did that really mean? What could he do? How would he fit into the structure of this new world? He needed information—lots of it. His mind raced with questions. He'd need to understand everything from the basics of spells to the intricacies of wizarding politics. He needed books.

"Books... and more books," Harry thought, a small smirk crossing his face despite his unease. But where could he get them? His first trip to Diagon Alley tomorrow would be key. If he couldn't find a library, he'd buy as many books as he could carry.

In the master bedroom, Vernon lay beside Petunia, who had been quiet since Snape's visit. He turned toward her, his voice soft but reassuring. "He's a smart kid, Pet. He's handled himself well so far, and he'll handle this too. We're here for him, no matter what he needs."

Petunia, still tense, nodded slowly, her fingers playing with the edge of the blanket. "I know, Vernon," she whispered, her voice heavy with worry. "But it's just… I never imagined any of this would come back. I don't want him to get hurt."

Vernon gently placed a hand on her shoulder, pulling her closer. "We'll figure it out. He has us. That's more than what a lot of kids have."

The house remained eerily quiet after that. Vernon's words were reassuring, but the weight of what they'd learned still hung in the air. Harry, just two doors down, tossed and turned, his mind unable to stop racing. Dudley, too, was awake in his room, not scared but excited by the thought of exploring this magical world with his cousin.

No one in the house slept well that night. Between the anxiousness of entering a new world, the sadness of confronting painful memories, and the excitement of tomorrow's unknown, the Dursleys were restless in their beds.

Tomorrow is going to be a big day.