Monday's weather was overcast as Harry walked up Privet Drive to number four. Harry took a deep breath against his nerves. It was not nearly as bad as the last time he'd walked up to this door, almost a month ago, with Ginny and Minerva, but he still felt his pulse quicken a little. He wondered, belatedly, if he should have changed into his Muggle clothes. It wasn't like him to forget that sort of thing.

Harry shook his head at himself, bitterly amused. Forty years old and still rattled by visiting his childhood...well, not his home, but the place he grew up. He knocked on the door, trying to shake off his anxiety.

Almost immediately, the door opened, "Hello, Harry!" Dudley looked delighted to see Harry again. They hadn't had a chance to talk at Mary's funeral and wake. Phillip had spent the afternoon talking with Lee and George, while Arthur had monopolized Dudley, "Come in. Or would you rather go somewhere else?"

"I'm waiting for a few owls." Harry replied, "So if its all the same, I'd rather stay here." If they went anywhere in muggle London it would be difficult to receive the owls and Harry wanted the replies brought directly.

Harry followed Dudley into the kitchen where Dudley put the kettle on. Harry took off his cloak, laying it on the back of his chair.

"Thanks for turning up on Saturday." said Harry, "Ginny felt like it was important to have the whole family there."

"No problem. I just hope the next gathering will be a happier occaision." Dudley was pulling out the makings of sandwiches from the fridge, "How's he been?" meaning Tim.

Harry grimaced, "Not good. Hasn't slept properly since the funeral. He's got another appointment with the healers today. Ginny's taking him."

"Tag team parenting. Good strategy." smiled Dudley.

Harry smiled a little at that, too. There was a silence for a moment, "Finished your book." said Harry suddenly, deciding that this was as good a place as any to start.

Dudley poured some tea, set the two cups down on the table and sat down before speaking, "So, what did you think?" he asked. Harry detected a note of apprehension, well hidden, in Dudley's voice.

"Took some dramatic license, don't you think?" Harry said, he was careful to keep his words and tone non-accusatory..

Dudley sighed, "Dramatic license?" he asked, in an equally careful voice.

"Well, I mean, I was impressed by how you managed to portray the magic thing as a sort of Muggle giftedness. And I thought it was well written." Harry had found out from Hermione that critiques were better received when one started with what one liked about the piece.

"But..?" encouraged Dudley, when Harry stopped.

"Well, I realize that you have to write for your audience and everything, but honestly...some of the things you describe are a little over-the-top." Harry said, uncomfortably. He wondered why he had thought it was a good idea to bring it up.

Dudley gave Harry a long look, "That's how I remember most of it. If anything, I downplayed it, Harry." he said softly.

Harry shrugged. Dudley's book had made it seem as if the Dursleys were as bad as Tim's father. It wasn't that he didn't realize that the Dursleys were abusive, just Dudley's accounts seemed a little more extreme than Harry remembered.

"Well, look, you sort of talk about the Dementors like it was a mugging. Fair enough. And obviously, you left out the part about me getting all sorts of owls from the Ministry and school. But you have Vernon beating me within an inch of my life the next day for not protecting you properly." Harry said shaking his head. In the book, it was described as a major epiphany moment, for Dudley. That Vernon was punishing Harry (or "the Boy" as Dudley named him throughout) for things that Harry had no control over. Punishing Harry for trying to help Dudley, when Harry could just have easily walked away.

Dudley sat very still, never taking his eyes from Harry's face, "You don't remember?" he asked rather intensely, "I thought he'd killed you. He'd waited until Mum and I were out. Mum thought a bit of retail therapy was in order. When we got back, you were on the floor in the bedroom, all blood." Dudley shuddered, "Well, you know how much scalp wounds bleed. You had a big gash over your ear. You were out cold and Dad was going spare because he was afraid of the wizards."

Harry was shaking his head in denial, "No...that couldn't have happened...I'd remember something like that."

Dudley asked, very seriously "What's the next thing you remember after the day we met the Dementors?"

"Er..." That year had been such a disaster from beginning to end. He remembered, vividly, how angry he'd been at everybody, when he'd finally been taken to Grimmauld Place, the headquarters of The Order of The Phoenix. However, he didn't remember what Dudley was talking about. Was it possible he'd lost some memory getting hit on the head? It wouldn't be the only time that had happened, "I'm fairly certain the wizards came for me the next night." he managed after some thought.

Dudley shook his head, "It was almost a week. Mum cleaned up the mess and they stuck you in your bed and prayed your 'freakiness' would fix you. It always had before, when Dad went too far, I suppose."

"Dudley...that's just not.." Harry began. His palms were sweating, he wiped them on the fabric of his trousers.

"Harry," Dudley was looking at him very seriously, leaning forward in his chair, "Ginny told me that you lot play a sport where you ride broomsticks, thirty feet in the air. You let your children do this. That tells me that injuries just don't mean the same thing for a wizard as for the rest of us. I expect Mum and Dad figured this out somewhere along the way and...well...just didn't think you felt things as much as a 'normal' person. I think Mum, at least, wouldn't have let Dad go as far as all that if the bruises hadn't disappeared so quickly."

Dudley leaned back again, closing his eyes, "Or maybe they would have just killed you. You would have been one of those horrible stories that make the press go on about 'How could this happen?' and throwing blame around at everyone for not noticing." he finished bitterly.

Harry blinked at him, bemused. He leaned back in his own chair, resolving that, when that owl got here, he was going to send yet another note to Phoebe for an appointment. He was seeing her as often in these last few weeks as he had in the years after the War ended. He better just set up for weekly appointments again.

Distantly, he remembered someone (possibly Hermione) telling him that most Wizards thought house elves didn't have feelings as acute as a human's. Harry admitted to himself that he had been treated more like a house elf than a human child. He just didn't realize how far it went, he supposed.

Dudley stood, added more tea to his cup. Went to the fridge and pulled out the makings of sandwiches, "Hope I haven't killed your appetite completely." he said, perhaps as a way to give Harry an opportunity to change the subject.

Harry helped himself to a plate, made himself a corned beef sandwich from the collection of sandwich meats Dudley put out, "No, not completely." he said, wryly. It was a little awkward to be sitting here like this, without Ginny or Philip to carry on the conversation for them, in the silences.

"I really enjoyed meeting your in-laws." Dudley said, after they'd sat concentrating on their food, "They remind me of Phillip's family, actually. They're all completely mad." Dudley smiled, "His sister is a folk singer with a quite the following through her web site..."

"Web site?" asked Harry, feeling the corners of his mouth turn up, "What's a web site?" he had visions of somewhere one would put a pet acromantula.

Dudley goggled at him, "You aren't serious...?" then the reality caught up to him, "Oh, yeah. You were at your school through most of the nineties, weren't you?"

Harry nodded.

"And you never spend any time in our world, since then?" Dudley looked sad, "Is Eleanor going to end up like that? Are we going to lose her once she goes away to school?"

"Most Muggle-borns stay with their feet in both worlds." replied Harry, "I just never felt any reason to. " He smiled, "Maybe I have a bit more invested in it now."

Dudley flashed him a grateful smile, "I'll show you what the 'net is, if you promise not to blow up my laptop. That explains why I could never find you on Facebook."

"Nets and webs." said Harry, "Sorry...you've lost me completely."

Their conversation was inturrupted by a pecking at the window, "I'll get it." said Harry jumping up, "It's the package I'm waiting for."

The owl was one of Hogwarts'. It bore a long package and an envelope from Minerva. Harry opened the letter to see her rather prim handwriting.

Dear Harry,

These were the few things Severus left in Hogwart's possession when he died. He requested that his wand be donated to the school rather than buried with him and he also left this small box. Given Severus' caution, I do agree that his notebooks and journals were probably keyed to his wand alone. It is also not unlikely that the box is also keyed to the wand.

Sincerely,

Minerva

A second owl joined the first, this one with a lumpy envelope. It was from Neville. Harry opened it to find a small vial of silver vapor and a note with quite a few cross outs.

Harry,

I know that I'm I hope you don't think I'm taking the coward's way out. Here's the memory of the event you asked for. I just don't think Honestly, I'd rather not revisit this one myself, so you're welcome to view it. As long as  I'd be happy to answer any questions, but I think its complete enough. I don't know if  I hope it will help your research.

Neville

P.S. Now you've got me curious about my own medical records...I'll let you know if I find anything pertinent.

Harry smiled with satisfaction, pleased that Neville felt he could trust him with this. He had hesitated to ask Neville about it at all, instead asking Poppy. She had told him that her vows of patient confidentiality wouldn't let her share the information without Neville's permission. He hadn't expected Neville to just supply him with the whole memory.

"Good news?" asked Dudley.

"Oh, yes." Harry stowed the packages on top of his cloak where he wouldn't forget them. He pulled piece of parchment out of his breast pocket, "Can I borrow a quill?" he asked

"I've got a pen." replied Dudley, handing it to him.

Harry quickly penned a note to Phoebe, asking to be fit in some time this week, "St. Mungo's. Mindhealing department." Harry told the owl. Both owls took wing at the same time, after Harry fed them a bit of his leftover sandwich.

"Mind healers?" asked Dudley, interested, "Sort of wizard psychologists?"

For some reason Harry felt his cheeks get hot, "Yeah, I see one on and off. Have done for years." he felt a trifle defensive, "After the War...well...a lot of us had problems." it was stupid, given that he understood Dudley to be a sort of mind healer himself.

Dudley nodded gravely, "I imagine. Actually, when you first turned up here, I sort of assumed Minerva was your therapist. I would have brought mine if the roles had been reversed." He stopped, "Or maybe not. It might have been too hard to explain." he said half smiling, "Er...I was actually wondering...There's a lot I want to talk about but it's..."

"Awkward." Harry supplied.

Dudley nodded, his smile relieved now, "Yes. Do you think we could have a joint session...sometime?" Dudley's cheeks turned red, "Just because I'm not sure where we should even start. You know?"

Harry did know, "I think I can get Phoebe to do that. She's Muggle-born. Studied at an American Muggle University during the War, actually. I'll ask her, next time I see her."

"Thanks." said Dudley, "Oh, and another thing." Dudley picked up a folder from the kitchen counter, "After Dad died, and Mum got cancer, I had to help Mum with her finances. She was very well off, it turns out."

Harry knew that the Dursleys were well-off even thought they complained constantly about the financial burden Harry placed on them.

Dudley handed the file to Harry, looking rather shamefaced, "Turns out, you were a big reason why. They were getting about a thousand pounds a month from something called "The Potter Trust."

Harry sighed. That wasn't anything he hadn't figured out himself, although a hundred galleons a month was more than Harry ever dreamed they would have gotten.

"Well, they spent a lot of it." Dudley went on, "But they had the...I don't know...the sheer bollocks to put about half of it in trust for me." he shook his head.

Harry opened the file. There were statements going back to the nineties.

"I never felt right about using it." Dudley went on, "And I never really needed it. When Mum died, there was a lot of insurance...so...it's just sat there."

It dawned on Harry what Dudley was trying to do, "I don't need it." Harry said quickly, "Really, it's okay."

"I see that you don't need it, but I can't use it." replied Dudley, "It just feels like it should go somewhere."

Harry was quiet for a minute, trying to work out how many Galleons he was looking at. He stopped at "a lot". A lovely idea occurred to him.

"You know," he said quietly, "A lot of the poor students use a fund at Hogwarts to get their uniforms and equipment, but of course, it's always underfunded. Perhaps we should put this into a scholarship?"

Dudley's mouth quirked up, "Can we call it the Vernon and Petunia Dursley scholarship for Wizarding Youth?"