Harry had learned early on in his life how to wake up without letting anyone around him know he'd done so.  It had been useful, as a child, for him to be able to do so if he was ill or injured; if his relatives realized that he'd come to, they might put him to work, but if they thought he was passed out because of one thing or another they usually left him alone.  This morning, Harry opened his eyes the barest of slits—just enough to see that light was trickling in through the cracks in the walls and to see that Dudley was still fast asleep on the couch.  He let his eyes fall closed again, but he wasn't tired any longer.

Images from the day before came flooding in.  Images of his aunt and uncle…  Harry didn't feel bad about their deaths. He'd meant what he'd said to his father the night before—it wasn't his fault, and they had been out to kill him.  Nonetheless, watching people die like that…  It was horrible. It was just about the worst way a person could go.

Harry wished he knew where his father was leading him and Dudley. James had said that he was leading them to someone safe, but what did that mean?  Safe could have a million different meanings.  It could mean a cop, for all Harry knew, but what kind of sense would that make?  His father had said that they were supposed to be avoiding the cops. And how long would it take for them to get to this safe person?  They'd walked nearly four hours the night before, and though that wasn't an unreasonable day's work by Harry's standards, he knew Dudley would be feeling it this morning.  Not only that, but they hadn't had any supper—again, more of a problem for Dudley than for Harry, but it wasn't an ideal situation anyway. 

He thought about what his father had said the night before about being dead.  A couple of days ago, Harry wouldn't have believed it, but last night had been so unbelievable in so many ways that the idea of his dead father coming back to guide him to safety was the least of his concerns.  Still, it was a bit strange.  He'd have thought that if his father was sent down to take care of him, he'd be able to take care of him.  All James had done so far was give Harry and Dudley suggestions. He hadn't even been able to do anything himself. 

Harry's eyes popped open as the enormity of that statement hit him.  His father hadn't done anything.  Quite probably, his father couldn't do anything.  Harry stood up, the weight of his uncle's money feeling heavy in his pocket, and crossed the dust-covered floor to the window he and Dudley had snuck in the night before. Unsurprisingly, James stood up as soon as Harry got close to the window.  Harry had suspected that his father wasn't sleeping—probably couldn't even sleep, being dead and all. 

"Where are you going?" James asked sharply.

"For food," Harry said.

"You can't," James said.  "It's not safe."

"It's safe enough," Harry returned.  "And it's not like you can do anything about it, is it?"

James's lack of response was enough of an answer for Harry.  He slipped out the window, but for all that he did think that he and Dudley needed food, the victory felt hollow to Harry.  He'd been praying for his parents to come back into his life for years, and to have his father come to him like in so ineffective a manor was the gravest disappointment. It was bad enough to know that the man wouldn't stay—that as soon as he'd brought Harry and Dudley to safety, he'd disappear again—but to know that even while he was here, he was but a shadow of a man… Well, it was enough to make Harry almost wish that the man had just stayed dead.

Harry found his way to a convenience store.  He grabbed a box of donuts and a 2-pint container of milk and paid for them at the front counter, and then carried them back to the house he and Dudley had slept in the night before.  Dudley was still sleeping: Harry stared in disgust as a glob of saliva squirmed out the corner of Dudley's mouth and plopped down on the couch cushion.  James was standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed over his chest, looking foreboding.

Harry ignored his father.  He opened the milk container and took a swig, and then he ate a donut from the box.  It was more of a meal than he usually got. His stomach tightened uncomfortable, but Harry, ignoring it, drank more milk and forced himself to eat a second donut.  His stomach lurched as if it were trying to expel the food, but Harry fought the urge down as he had any other time in his life he'd been given the means to indulge.  God only knew when he might get that sort of opportunity again. 

His father still hadn't said a word.  Harry's stomach squirmed uncomfortably the way that it did when Uncle Vernon was in a mood, but he forced himself to hold his head up high.  After a few moments, though, Harry couldn't help it.  He turned his eyes towards his father and said, "Are you going to give me the silent treatment all day?"

"Why should that matter?" James asked.  "You do anything you want, right?"

The statement was so far from the truth that Harry couldn't help but let out a bitter snort.

James, seeming to realize what he'd said, let out a deep sigh and scrubbed at his forehead with the palm of his hand. He said, "I'm sorry, Harry.  That was…  I'm just out of sorts.  But you can't be going off and doing whatever you want just because I've been told not to directly interfere.  There's a reason I was sent down to guide you, and you have to let me do my job."

Harry wanted to ask or what? but he held his tongue.  Instead he said, "I've followed all of your other instructions.  I'm not a complete moron."

"Of course you're not," James said.  "You're a Potter…  For now, anyway."  The last words were said bitterly, and gave Harry reason to pause.

"What do you mean, 'for now'?"

James smiled in a way that Harry could tell was entirely fake.  "Your mother and I had the pleasure of hand picking a new guardian for you and your cousin.  He…When all this is over with, you'll be as much his son as mine.  You'll even take on his last name."

Harry frowned.  Why would he have to change names?  And if his father had helped pick out this new guardian, why did he seem so irked by the idea?  Unless it was just a matter of not wanting to share… Harry couldn't figure out why that should be his problem, though. 

"My new guardian is a guy?" Harry asked quietly.

"Yes."  James's eyes flashed with bitterness.  "Wake your cousin up, Harry.  It's long past time we get going."

Harry shrugged and went over to Dudley.  He shook his cousin gruffly until Dudley's pudgy blue eyes popped open.  Harry could tell the exact moment that Dudley got his bearings and remembered the previous day's events, for his blue eyes went blank.  Harry didn't know what to do about that.  He was used to Dudley being an outrageous prig; he'd never dealt with Dudley's more human emotions.  Sighing, Harry handed his cousin the leftover milk and donuts. Dudley took them without a word, and Harry realized that this day was looking to be every bit as promising as the one before it. 

But then Dudley finished his breakfast, turned his pale eyes on Harry, and asked, "Do you know where we're going?"

Harry shot a look towards his father before answering carefully, "Not exactly.  But I know that we're being led to somewhere safe. We're going to have a new guardian—a man—and my parents picked him out especially for us, so he should be good."

Dudley nodded.  He leaned forward slightly and whispered, "Harry?  Mom and Dad, they were going to kill us, weren't they?"

Harry hesitated a moment and then nodded.

"I got this letter," Dudley said.  "It was from a school.  Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  I thought it was a joke at first, from Piers or something, but then Dad saw it and he went berserk…  I think he wouldn't have done that if it was just a joke, you know?"

Harry had never thought that Dudley had much in the way of brains, and he wondered how long it had taken his cousin to figure all of that out.  He didn't ask, though.  He and Dudley seemed to be in some sort of a truce—Dudley hadn't called Harry a freak since The Incident—but Harry was still wary of his cousin.  How could he be anything but?

"I think it could be real," Harry said.  "There's things that have happened around us that aren't exactly normal, you know? And my father just showed up out of the blue, back from the dead, to lead us to a new guardian?  There's…there's no normal way to explain it all."

Dudley nodded slowly.  "That's what I thought, too."  He bit his lower lip and asked, "Are you scared of it?"

"A little," Harry admitted.  He lifted his chin slightly and added, "It saved our life last night, though, so it can't be too bad.  Anyway, are you done eating?  I don't know how far away this guardian is, but we ought to get going while there's plenty of daylight left."

In truth, Harry was much more afraid than he was willing to let on.  Magic.  His aunt and uncle had taught him to fear that word from the time that he was old enough to say it.  Harry had never been permitted to believe in Santa Clause or the Tooth Fairy or any other versions of childhood magic, and he'd never believed in its existence.  If he were honest with himself, he hadn't wanted to believe in magic. If magic didn't exist, then the way Harry had been treated by his aunt and uncle was just a version of bad luck.  If it did exist, though, then someone could have known about it. Someone could have done something about it… couldn't they?

Harry, Dudley, and James climbed one by one out of the window.  At James's direction, Harry and Dudley started walking north.  Harry didn't allow himself to wonder where they were going or how much farther it was.  It was easier just to assume that he'd be walking forever.  He'd always been good at taking life as it came to him.

No so Dudley, who asked barely half an hour into the morning, "Where are we going?"

"London," James said.

"Well how much farther is that?" Dudley asked. 

"Five more hours," James said.  "Maybe less."

Harry rolled his eyes at Dudley's stricken expression.  Personally, he thought that his father should have said it would take them three more days to get there. Then, when they got there this afternoon, Dudley would think it was a real treat. As for Harry… He supposed he didn't care one way or another.  He was used to long days doing hard work.  In comparison, not having to do anything but walk today was almost a vacation for him.

At first, the walk was pleasantly dull.  The weather was nice enough for a walk, and Harry allowed himself to drift into daydreams the way he usually did when he was bored.  After another hour had passed, though, whatever had kept Dudley quiet before began to wear off.

"My feet hurt!" Dudley complained. 

Harry blinked slowly.  "Yeah. Mine, too, Dudley.  The sooner we get there, the sooner we can sit down."

"That's stupid," Dudley said.  "Why can't we sit down now."

Harry sighed.  Of course Dudley, who had never had to do an honest day's work in his life, wouldn't know better than to ask a question like that.  Harry tried to keep his patience as he explained, "You have to walk the same distance anyway, Dudley.  It's better if you just do it all at once.  Otherwise, it'll take twice as long, and resting in between won't really help your feet at all—they'll still be tired, and the rest of your body will be more tired, too."

For a moment, Harry thought that Dudley might burst into tears.  But then Dudley seemed to call on some reserve strength Harry hadn't even known he possessed and he nodded his head resolutely.  "Okay."

Still, Harry knew that his cousin was getting towards the end of his tether.  He could just tell.  He shot a pleading look to James, hoping his father would come up with a way to placate Dudley, but James looked twice as tired as Dudley claimed to be.  Sighing, Harry knew that there was nothing he could do save get the two of them talking… and the only way he could do that was to break his own personal rule about not asking unnecessary questions. 

Bracing himself, Harry carefully asked, "Can you tell us what's going to happen when we get to London?" As hard as the words were to get out, Harry was instantly gratified to see Dudley's face perk up as his interest was piqued.

James gave Harry a searching look before nodding.  He said, "I'll tell you two where to go, and you'll go in by yourselves.  Your mother will be there, and your new guardian.  You guys will be introduced, I'm sure, and you will have a conversation about what you want to change your names to, and when you're ready, you'll call me inside.  Your mother and I will disappear back to the Afterlife as soon as we set eyes on each other. When that happens, there will be some paperwork for you to sign.  As soon as the last signature is on the paperwork, you'll begin to change.  It will be a quick process, by the end of which you two will look…different. You know about DNA, yes?  A little? The two of you will have three-way DNA: you'll be part me, part Lily, and part your new guardian.  You'll become brothers, in every sense of the matter. And once that happens, the ministry won't be able to get after you about anything that happened before now."

Dudley said, "I'm not going to look like my parents any more? Not at all?"

James gave Dudley a sympathetic look.  "Unfortunately, no. When Lily and I became your guides, we essentially took you in as our child.  The Fates will see that, and your own parents' refusal to acknowledge you as theirs, and they will give you our DNA, same as Harry."

Dudley sucked his cheeks in and then blew a breath out.  "Okay.  Well, why do we have to change our names?"

"You're essentially being reborn," James said.  "It's a way to protect you, so that the Ministry can't possibly try to intervene and send you to live with anyone save the guardian The Fates have chosen for you."

Harry noted that Dudley looked a bit green.  He elbowed his cousin in the ribs and, in a voice mimicking some of Dudley's more ominous video games, said, "Beware! The Fates have chosen! Dun dun duuun!"

James shot Harry a disapproving look, but Dudley snickered appreciatively.  Harry ignored his father entirely in favor of doing a few other imitations for Dudley.  Anything to keep his cousin in high spirits.  It was strange, but Dudley wasn't so bad when he was away from his parents and his friends.  Harry could almost believe what his father had said earlier about Harry and Dudley becoming brothers after this. 

Hours later, Harry could tell that they must be on the outskirts of London.  There were more cars and more people than there had been before, and the buildings were more densely packed.  James kept them on the outskirts of the city, leading them into a residential area. The houses were similar to the houses in Privet Drive, though they were more closely packed together.  James eventually stopped at the end of one of the driveways and gestured toward it.

"That's where we're going to live?" Dudley asked, giving the house a dubious look.

"No," James said.  "That's just where you're meeting up with your guardian."

Dudley nodded.  He started up the driveway.

Harry turned to his father. "This is the last time I'll be able to talk to you?"

James inclined his head.

Harry swallowed.  "Okay.  Well, thanks."

"I love you, Harry," James said softly.

"I—"  Harry swallowed.  He couldn't say the words back.  He didn't even know the man.  He shrugged and turned away, muttering, "Like I said, thanks." He hastened up the driveway after his cousin.