Chapter 6: Reconciliation

It was now July and there was still another year before the N.E.W.T. exams, so Harry's summer was, he hoped, going to be relatively care- and stress-free. Ginny had sat all of her O.W.L.'s, so she only had a few weeks to wait for her exam results. Hermione had restored her parents memories of who they were and that they had a daughter. The Grangers had decided that they were enjoying their new lifestyle in Australia, and that they would like to stay there permanently. Hermione would be staying with them for most of the summer: partly because she missed her parents, and partly because Ron was going to be working with his brother, George, during the school holiday. Harry would be spending the summer at the Burrow, as he usually did, but he felt that now he was free of other responsibilities there were some loose ends in his life that he would like to tidy up. One of these was the Dursley family.

When they had driven off with Dedalus Diggle and Hestia Jones, Harry had truly believed that he would never see his aunt and uncle and cousin Dudley again. He had not even asked where they were being taken. It was only his overly-large cousin's uncharacteristically sentimental farewell, that had caused him to have the slightest twinge of regret. But now, several years later, when his life had seemingly improved a hundred fold from the time that they had all lived in Privet Drive, Little Whinging, he had started to think about them more often, and more kindly. He had thought that he might now visit them, just for old times sake. So, with his stomach churning and his heart beating faster than usual, he had walked up the path that he remembered so well from his almost seventeen years of living there.

There was a different car in the drive, but Uncle Vernon always did change his car every two years. He knocked on the door, expecting that it might even be slammed in his face when they saw who it was. However, it was Harry who was unprepared to see the thirty-something, fair-haired man who opened the door.

"Oh! I'm sorry to bother you, but I was looking for the Dursley's. They used to live here. They are my Aunt and Uncle."

"I'm sorry, chum, we've been living here just over a year and it was empty when we bought it. I could give you the name of the estate agent who handled it, but I don't think they're allowed to give out details."

"No, that's OK. Sorry again for bothering you."

The man closed the door and Harry turned and walked down the path. As he got to the end of the road, however, he heard a woman's voice nearby: "Harry—Harry Potter—Is that you?"

He turned towards the voice and was pleasantly surprised to see Arabella Figg, who he had last seen at Albus Dumbledore's funeral, and before that, when she had given evidence for him, when he was charged with using underage magic.

"Hello, Mrs Figg. I never expected to see you here!"

"You've grown a bit, Harry. Have you got time for a cup of tea?"

"Of course." They walked back to her house, where she sat Harry down in the sitting room while she made them both tea.

"Cake, Harry?" she called from the kitchen.

"Please!"

"Now, I suppose you were looking for the Dursley's," she said.

"Yes, I came on the off-chance. I didn't know they'd moved away. I thought that they might have come back after—"

"No, they never did come back. Of course, once you'd gone, His people came looking; messed up the house quite a bit. I think someone told the police afterwards that the Dursley's were on holiday and that it was burglars what did it. Last thing I know, was that one of them big vans came along and put everything in it. Then a little while after, them new people moved in. They look a nice family."

"Yes, I spoke to a man. He seemed quite friendly."

"Of course I read about you in the Prophet, Harry. It was so brave what you did to You-Know-Who. Things got real nasty there for a while, didn't they."

Harry stayed for about another hour. He told her about the things that he had done since then. Before he left, Mrs Figg told Harry that she thought that Kingsley Shacklebolt would probably know where the Dursley's went when they left Privet Drive, as he had been involved with the plan to move Harry.

"And if he doesn't know, he can certainly put you in touch with Dedalus."

Mrs Figg said that Harry was welcome any time he was passing. Harry thanked her for the tea and cake, then left. It was too late now to contact Kingsley, but he would talk to Arthur Weaseley when he got back to the Burrow.

Harry and Mr Weaseley were seated at the table in the kitchen. Mrs Weaseley was busy preparing the evening meal. Ginny was sitting in a comfortable, but shabby arm chair a short distance away, reading a Potions book.

"Mr Weaseley— " said Harry. But before he could finish his sentence, Mr Weaseley replied, in his best pretend aggrieved tone of voice:

"Now, Harry, don't you think you've known us long enough to call us by our first names!"

This wasn't the first time that Harry had heard this, or something similar, said, of course. He had usually just politely apologised, but this time he had felt that he needed to give a more elaborate answer:

"Yes, of course; it's just kind of, weird, to call you Molly and Arthur—you know I kind of think of you both as parents."

"Well, you never know," said Arthur Weaseley, trying hard to keep himself from grinning, "—one day we might be!"

Harry, who had his back to Ginny, didn't see her lower her book and give her father the exact same look of disapproval that Molly Weaseley tended to reserve for her children. Harry was not sure how to respond, however, so he thought it best to pretend that he had not heard Arthur Weaseley's last comment.

"It's just that, I was wondering, whether you knew where my aunt and uncle were living now?"

"Sorry, I don't—but I could certainly make a few enquiries for you, Harry, if you're sure you want to know."

"That would be great, Mr—er, Arthur."

Just then Molly Weaseley called across the room to her daughter.

"Ginny, Dear, put your book down and lay the table for supper."

"Yes, Mum!"

On the next evening that Arthur Weaseley returned from his job at the Ministry of Magic, and after they had all finished their meal, he spoke directly to Harry:

"About the Dursley's, Harry," he began, "I managed to get a few minutes with Kingsley today. He told me that there were no records of the night we took you away from Privet Drive, but of course that Dedalus and Hestia would know. Hestia is out of the country at the moment, but I tracked down Dedalus, and he said that he would meet you tomorrow at Grimmauld Place, at about one o'clock, if that's alright with you."

"Thank you. I might even call in on Ron, afterwards."

Harry had of course asked Ginny if she wanted to go with him to London, but she had said that she thought Harry should go on his own; besides, she could see her older brothers anytime! Harry was by now so used to Ginny's company that he didn't question her decision, although he did sense that maybe there was something on her mind, other than her impending O.W.L. results, which he knew were due soon.

Harry Disapparated from the Burrow into Grimmauld Place; he had appeared in an instant in the downstairs kitchen. Because Kreacher was no longer living there, every surface had gathered a thick layer of dust since his last visit. Mrs Weaseley had insisted that he take refreshments with him so, after lighting the kitchen lamps, he unwrapped a large parcel of sandwiches and several bottles of butterbeer, while waiting for Dedalus to arrive.

Unlike when Harry had been to the house before its location had been accidentally revealed to the Death Eaters, a new charm had been laid by the Ministry, which meant that occupants and visitors alike were no longer subjected to the maniacal ranting from the portrait of Sirius' mother, Madam Black, which hung in the hallway. So, when there was a sharp rap on the door, shortly after one o'clock, Harry was totally relaxed as he opened it.

"Harry!" exclaimed Dedalus, enthusiastically pumping Harry's hand, "So very nice to see you again!"

"Hi, Dedalus, good to see you, too. Come in." Harry retrieved his hand and quickly flexed his fingers behind Dedalus' back. "You don't mind sitting in the kitchen, do you? Everywhere else needs a good clean!." Harry followed Dedalus to the kitchen, where they both sat at the table with the drinks and sandwiches.

"So, Harry, I understand from Arthur that you wish to know the whereabouts of the Dursley's. I can't think why," Dedalus continued, with a somewhat pained expression on his face. "The most disagreeable group of people that it has ever been my misfortune to meet. How you managed to live with them for all those years I will never know!"

Harry smiled to himself. He knew exactly how bad his aunt, uncle and cousin could be, but it was still quite amusing to hear someone else confirm his opinion of them.

"I know," said Harry, "but they are still the only real relatives I have. After all that's happened, I know that I've changed, and I was curious to see whether they have, too."

"Well, where shall I begin?" said Dedalus. "When we left Privet Drive, both Hestia and I were still prepared to be open-minded. We put their attitude down to the fact that they were being made to leave their home and their current lives behind them. We had selected a safe place for them to stay for a few days, until we could assess the way that the wind was blowing in the country. Of course, neither Hestia nor I have lived as Muggles do, so we expected that mistakes would be made to begin with.

"From the moment we arrived the complaints and grumbling began: the house was too small, they didn't like the decoration, it was too far from anywhere, they had had much better furniture at home. In short, they wished they'd never agreed to come and they demanded to be taken home at once. Both Hestia and I are patient people, Harry, but on more than one occasion we were sorely tempted to turn them into something more agreeable—like scorpions or black widow spiders!

"Anyway, we had already found a different house for them, and we had made plans to collect their furniture and belongings from Privet Drive, which seemed to placate them, slightly. Of course, when the Ministry people turned up at the old house, it had been wantonly vandalised by the Dark Lord's thugs. However, a few restoring spells were able to repair most of the damage. Unfortunately, Harry, Voldermort's people had recognised that some of the things had belonged to you, and even the strongest spells could not restore them to their former state. I hope, Harry, that there was nothing precious to you."