4 Privet Drive, the little house with the perfectly trimmed lawn.
"Dear, they're almost here!"
Petunia called out. She was already dressed in a peach-colored cocktail dress that looked painfully out of place in their stuffy living room.
Vernon came waddling in wearing a tuxedo that strained at every button, Dudley right behind him in a bow tie that was practically choking his thick neck. Through the window they watched a long black limousine glide to a stop, followed by a couple of sleek escort cars.
"They say young Mr. Potter is mad about Quidditch," Vernon muttered nervously to himself. "I've got that Japanese golfer joke ready…"
A handful of people stepped out of the cars. They looked young, barely older than schoolboys, but no one would dare underestimate them; seven or eight men in sharp black suits and sunglasses fanned out like bodyguards.
"One last run-through," Vernon hissed. "After we welcome them inside, what happens?"
"I open the door right away," Dudley recited, his chubby face creasing into rehearsed delight, "and say, 'May I take your coats, Mr. Green, Mr. Finch-Fletchley, and Mr. Potter?'"
"Then I bring them into the living room, introduce them to you, Petunia, and offer them drinks. Dinner is served at exactly two fifteen—"
"And I announce that the meal is ready," Petunia cut in proudly.
"Dudley, your line—"
"Would you follow me to the dining room, gentlemen?" Dudley chirped, extending one fat arm like he was ushering invisible royalty.
"Such a perfect little gentleman!" Petunia sniffed, dabbing at her eyes.
"Brilliant. Then at the table we shower them with compliments. Petunia, go."
"Mr. Potter, Vernon tells me you're simply wizard with anything involving balls… Mr. Green, do tell me where you had that suit tailored…"
"Excellent. Dudley?"
The boy grinned. "How about this: 'Mr. Potter, we had to write an essay at school about the person we admire most, and I wrote about you.'"
Everyone beamed, satisfied with the plan.
Behind the kitchen door, Sean's face was perfectly blank while Justin was biting his fist to keep from laughing out loud. Harry had both hands clamped over his mouth so the Dursleys wouldn't hear him losing it.
Then the doorbell rang.
Vernon plastered on his best oily smile and flung the door open with the dramatic flair he'd practiced a hundred times in the mirror.
"Welcome, welcome!"
A pale, strikingly elegant boy with dark hair stepped inside first.
"Oh! You must be Mr. Green!" Petunia cooed.
Sean gave a curt, expressionless nod.
Petunia practically swooned. Gorgeous and loaded; rumor had it he owned the biggest magical manufacturing empire in England.
"And Mr. Finch-Fletchley, right this way—"
Vernon was all bows and nervous handshakes. Everyone knew the ancient Finch-Fletchley name. Pure-blood aristocracy going back centuries.
When the third guest finally appeared in the doorway, Vernon shot Dudley a frantic look. Dudley lumbered forward exactly on cue.
"May I take your coats, Mr. Green, Mr. Finch-Fletchley, and Mr. Po-Po-Po—"
Dudley froze. His mouth opened and closed like a dying fish. Then his whole face started trembling.
"I'm so sorry, sir," Petunia squeaked, yanking her son behind her and forcing another smile. "Dudley must be coming down with something—"
"POTTER!" she shrieked the instant she saw who it was.
"Ah! Terribly sorry—" Vernon dragged Petunia back and promptly bellowed himself, "Harry Potter?!"
Harry remembered what Justin had told him in the car and kept his mouth shut.
"Surprised?" Justin said casually, as though he'd just mentioned the weather. "Old Mr. Potter was a close friend of my father's. Tragically no direct heirs, but after a bit of digging we finally tracked down his distant cousin, Harry Potter here."
Vernon and Petunia looked like they'd been hit with a Stunning Spell. Dudley shrank behind his mother, trying to disappear into her cocktail dress.
Dinner was… awkward doesn't even begin to cover it.
Watching the Dursleys force smiles that looked more like grimaces, listening to them stammer compliments at Sean and Justin while completely ignoring Harry, he knew one thing for certain: his days locked in the cupboard under the stairs were over for good. Vernon still couldn't even speak to him, but the power had flipped completely.
At one point Justin glanced toward the cupboard under the stairs with perfectly fake curiosity.
"You know, your house-elf quarters seem a bit cramped. Funny thing; my butler mentioned some Muggle child-protection agency has been asking questions about a family around here mistreating a kid. They should be arriving any minute now…"
The Dursleys went the color of old parchment.
That, of course, had been Justin and Sean's idea. But the final decision was Harry's.
He could send them to Azkaban if he felt like it. Or just bankrupt them with fines.
Harry didn't look happy. The first rush of triumphant revenge had faded fast, leaving a bunch of sharp, uncomfortable questions he couldn't answer. He just wanted out.
Sean watched Vernon eat like a zombie, Petunia's spoon rattling against her plate, Harry staring at his food looking miserable, and something deep and thoughtful passed across his green eyes.
Every person in this house was trapped in their own little world. They lived under the same roof, but none of them had ever really touched another's heart.
They were all lonely.
"If running away for a little while would make you feel better, Harry," the badge on his chest murmured once dinner was finally over, "we can leave right now."
Harry looked up, startled, and met Sean's unusually gentle expression.
…
In the end Harry didn't tell the child-services people the whole truth. From that moment on the Dursleys looked like they were waiting for the ceiling to fall on them at any second.
The group piled back into the limo and returned to Diagon Alley.
Hermione, Ron, and Neville had watched the entire disaster through the half-open car window, courtesy of Justin's Extendable Ear charm. Now they were arguing loudly about whether Harry had been too soft.
Harry didn't say a word the whole ride.
At Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, everyone gave him space. They could tell he needed to be alone with his thoughts.
Harry stared out at the hazy gray sky while a tired-looking owl flapped past. Occasionally a dark rooftop blocked the fiery sunset, and before he knew it the melted ice cream was running over his fingers.
Someone slid into the seat across from him.
"You chose mercy," Sean said quietly, green eyes reflecting the red glow of the dying sun. "That doesn't mean you've forgotten what they did. You stayed true to who you are, Harry. That's pretty incredible."
Harry's nose stung something fierce all of a sudden.