Bloodlines

Chapter 1 - Introductions

                Sixteen-year-old Harry Potter woke in his bedroom – Dudley’s old bedroom – to the loud, booming laughter of his uncle Vernon. He knew that distinctive laugh, he had heard it echoing up from the main floor of the house for the first time over four years ago today, when he first met Dobby the house-elf. That was Vernon’s business laugh. Vernon must have a client here. He rolled out of bed, his mind extremely fuzzy from the night’s dreams. He barely remembered them, but whatever they were had left him with a residual aching in the lightning-bolt scar of his forehead. He recalled aspects, images that were fading fast. There were spiders there; these were not his cupboard spiders, not small, innocent spiders that he had grown accustomed to. They were not much bigger, oddly, but they terrified Harry. Now I know how Ron feels, I guess. Ron Weasley, Harry’s best friend, was deathly afraid of spiders. Rubbing his forehead and fumbling on his bedside table for his glasses, Harry stroked his pet owl, Hedwig, before heading downstairs.

                "And the Japanese golfer says – oh." Vernon stopped in the middle of his joke as his unwelcome nephew entered the kitchen. Shooting a look at his wife, Petunia, he took a sip of his tea. Harry noticed that he was sitting across from a woman whose back was to him. From what Harry could see, her curly hair fell to between her shoulder blades, soft-looking and shiny auburn. Her large body was wrapped in a long rayon sundress covered with a nauseatingly pastel floral print, accentuated with a large matching hat. Petunia tried to hustle Harry out of the kitchen before their guest turned around, but she had already noticed her hosts’ behavior.

                "Who’s this?" She said, in an accent that Harry couldn’t place, but guessed it was American. She stood, and for the first time Harry saw her face. He couldn’t help himself, he gasped. She wasn’t a woman, only a girl. Young – she must be near my age – and with lovely, beautiful features. She was a big girl, but her chubby face suited her, and her eyes were filled with a friendly sort of warmth that Harry barely ever saw away from Hogwarts. She smiled warmly and reached out to him, to shake his hand. From behind her, Vernon sighed.

                "This… lazy thing… our nephew, Harry. Very disturbed, doesn’t talk much. We send him away to school, usually." Harry looked with anger at his uncle. "Harry, this is Veruca Cavalier, she’s just moved in next door." Harry took Veruca’s outstretched hand and they shook. She had a very firm handshake. "Her father works in advertising, he’s international. One of the best. She’s offered to take our company to her father for consideration. Why don’t you go… wash the lawn, or something, just go." Than Harry met Veruca’s eyes, and for a moment she looked hesitant to go back to her previous conversation. The second passed, however, and she released his hand.

                "No, that’s not necessary," she said, turning back to Vernon. "Why doesn’t Harry join us for brunch? I’ve brought more than enough, I think." She gestured to the fat box of pastries sitting on the table. Harry gaped – never, in the Dursley house had he been offered such delectable food.

                "I’m sure Dudley will want one of those when he gets up, actually." Petunia sniffed, and Harry’s face fell. Once his cousin got sight of those, he’d never even get a crumb. Veruca smiled at her, a toothy grin that Harry couldn’t help but notice seemed far more plastered on than before. A business smile, he thought, and grinned himself.

                "We’ll save him a few, don’t worry. Now, Harry, sit down?" She said, gesturing to a seat on the other side of the table. As he took his seat, he could feel his uncle’s annoyance radiating from beside him. Veruca got up to help Petunia with setting a new place, and Vernon took this moment to grip Harry’s arm tightly. Harry winced.

                "If your… your PERVERSION… if you say anything or do anything to cock up this deal for me, boy… you’ll never see daylight again, do you understand?" Harry nodded, his arm throbbing. Vernon released his nephew and replaced his look of rage with a huge, fake smile. "Now, Miss Cavalier –"

                "Oh, call me Veruca, Mr. Dursley. All my friends do."

                "And you, of course, will call us Vernon and Petunia!" Harry’s aunt twittered, enthralled by this polite and friendly girl. "Now, sit, please, while I fetch you another cup of tea."

                "That’s very kind of you. Harry," she said, turning to the new guest at the table, "would you also like a cup of tea?"

                "Oh… I…" Harry stammered, his mind reeling with the thought of his aunt being forced to serve him tea, like one of the family. He grinned again. "Yes please, Aunt Petunia." He beamed at his aunt, who was still wearing the same plastered smile. It didn’t reach her eyes. She set the cup stiffly in front of her nephew and gestured to the box on the table.

                "Well, go on. Eat up." She spat at him. Veruca passed him the pastry box and he took a plump, fat one, sinking his teeth into it immediately. Not since he left Hogwarts after his sixth year, less than two weeks ago, had he tasted anything so wonderful.

                "They’re nice, aren’t they? Vanilla croissants. My father sends me lots of samples he receives from clients." Veruca told Harry, who chewed and nodded silently. When he swallowed, she continued. "So… your aunt and uncle have told me all about your cousin. Do you go to Smeltings too?" From next to him, Vernon laughed.

                "Oh, heavens no. Harry… he’s not cut out for Smeltings, let’s say. He goes to a school for deviant boys and he’s happy to be there." Vernon boomed merrily. Harry lowered his eyes and nodded sharply.

                "Deviant boys… ah." Veruca said slowly. Harry half expected to be asked about the frequency of his whippings, but the conversation pressed on. "Vernon, I thought you said all the Dursley boys went to Smeltings.".

                "Oh, heavens, my dear. Harry’s not a Dursley." Vernon said.

                "Thank heavens." Harry said under his breath.

                "He should BE so lucky." Vernon continued, pinching Harry under the table. "No, Harry’s from Petunia’s side of the family." Harry’s aunt sniffed, offended. "Rather," Vernon quickly said, covering his slip, "he was born to Petunia’s sister and her… bizarre husband." Harry swallowed his growing anger. "We never approved of the Potters, of course. Far too odd."

                "Of course." Veruca said, and Harry could have sworn she rolled her eyes. "Harry Potter, then?"

                "Yes." Harry answered, his mouth half-full.

                "If I’m not prying… and tell me if I am, because I tend to… what happened to your parents?" Harry gulped, his mouth suddenly dry. Before he could answer, Vernon harrumphed and spoke for him.

                "There was a car accident. Very tragic. Pass the pastries." Harry’s mind was reeling from rage. Veruca was silent, looking apologetically at Harry. He could barely meet her eyes.

                "I’m so sorry… how long ago was that?"

                "Sixteen years, about," Harry said softly.

                "Wow… you were just a baby, then?"

                "One year old." Harry ran his fingers through his hair, brushing it backwards.

                "Were you in the car with them?" Veruca said quietly. "Is that how you got…" she pointed to the scar on his forehead. Harry nodded under the piercing glare of his aunt and uncle. "I’m sorry, this really is none of my business."

                "Yes, well, let’s move on to more pleasant things, then! Veruca, dear, how did you come to move to England?" Petunia said brightly. Veruca turned to the thin, gangly woman as she put another cup of tea down in front of the guest.

                "Well, I finished school a year ago, early – I graduated when I was seventeen. There’s a program in a Canadian university –"

"Oh, you’re Canadian?" Harry said, and Veruca nodded.

"Don’t interrupt, boy!" Vernon growled. "Go on, Veruca."

"Yes, well, there’s a course that takes place down in Sussex, near Eastbourne. Have you ever heard of Herstmonceux Castle?" She said, and both Vernon and Petunia nodded. "There’s a university program that goes on in there, we all study and live there for two semesters." She laughed to herself. "It must seem pretty odd to you, taking school in a castle." Vernon choked on his tea at this, while Harry snickered to himself.

"You’d think so…" Harry began, then caught himself. Before Vernon could pinch him again, however, Dudley waddled down from the upstairs. As both Dursleys jumped up to fawn over their son, Harry took the last bite of his croissant and gulped down the rest of his tea. He stood up. "Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’m sure I’ve got a lawn to… er, wash." Veruca shook his hand, smiling warmly at him again.

"Great to meet you, Harry." She moved to say something else, but her attention was quickly whisked away by Petunia, who was parading her son’s ample form in front of their guest for everyone to see. Harry silently slipped out the front door.

* * * * *

Harry had decided to weed the garden while he was outside, mainly so he could eliminate it as a job his aunt could demand he perform as a punishment. In the process of pulling up a fairly tough and deeply-rooted one, he heard the door open behind him. Turning around, he saw Petunia and Veruca kiss each other lightly on the cheek goodbye, and Veruca waved to them as they shut the door. Harry went back to his weeding, hearing her walk up behind him.

"You’ve got an interesting family." Veruca said, a note of laughter in her voice.

"I try not to think about it." Harry grunted as the weed finally came loose and he fell, panting, onto his back, dirt spattering his face. Spitting it out, he looked angrily at the weed itself, which had cut his hand up fairly properly. Just like a garden gnome, he thought. On a whim, he took hold of the weed by its roots and swung it around over his head until releasing it. It flew high over the bushes and landed in the next-door yard.

"Nice…" Veruca said, reaching into her pockets. She drew out a silver cigarette case and a Zippo with a 1930’s pin-up on the front. Drawing one slender stick out from the case, she put it to her lips. "Is it alright if I…" she trailed off, gesturing to the cigarette.

"Oh, yeah, that’s fine," Harry said, scanning the ground for more weeds. Veruca opened the lighter with one hand and lit her cigarette. Inhaling deeply, she sighed.

"God, I needed this." She looked over the front gardens with Harry. "You look about finished…"

"Yeah," Harry replied. For the first time since she’d come outside, he turned to look at her. He had grown a great deal over the past few summers, and while still gangly and thin, he was now almost a solid 5’8". She stood only an inch or two above him. He couldn’t help marveling at how young she must be, to live alone and in her own house.

"Anyway, I should go…" she turned to leave, then paused. "Actually… if you want to, you can come over for a cup of something. Juice, tea… scotch…" She mused, then laughed. "Or not. Interested?" The sun was, actually, beating down on him. His throat felt like it was covered in a dry layer of the dirt he’d sent flying, and he nodded. "Great, well… come on then." She said, then moved towards the next yard. Harry felt a flash of guilt when he realized he’d thrown the weed onto her lawn. He moved to pick it up. "Don’t worry about it, it’ll be fine. Come on in." He did, looking sheepish. Veruca walked up to the door and opened it, not having bothered to lock it.

All the houses on Privet Drive looked the same. Safe red brick, delicate white trim (slightly gingerbread-ey), thatched windows – all for the purpose of creating the air of absolute and total normality. Nothing stood out on the outside of these houses. There was the occasional ceramic fat Father Christmases, but everyone on Privet Drive found them charming. "What adorable little gnomes!" they’d say constantly, and Harry always stifled a giggle. When Vernon had asked him what was so damned funny all the time, Harry only shook his head. Veruca had none of these outside her house. When she opened the door, he could see why.

Nothing about Veruca’s house was normal. The walls had been repainted in a deep, lovely turquoise that made the hallway seem as though it was underwater. She had put silver paint overtop to increase the shimmering effect. Harry had never seen such a lovely hallway. Her furniture was an eclectic hodge-podge of styles, ranging from traditional floral patterns and wood to modern plastic and metal seats. She led him into the sitting room, which was off-white with a casual sponging of wine-red overtop, and gestured to one of the fat leather sofas. The fireplace, unlit, was deep set into the wall and surrounded by silver grating. Veruca quickly grabbed him a bottle of water from the fridge and tossed it to him over her shoulder. His seeker reflexes kicked in and he caught it without effort before it landed in the fishbowl of jellybeans she had the coffee table.

"I’ll be back in a sec, Harry… have some candy, if you want." She said as she strolled across the room and out into the hall. He heard a door close as she continued talking. "My father sends me lots of samples from the clients he represents. Did I already say that?"

"Yeah, at breakfast." Harry said distantly, his eyes hungrily taking in the sight of the plump, colourful jellybeans. He grabbed a fat-looking toffee one, and popped it into his mouth.

"Oh, sorry. Yeah, I do that. Anyway, he just got this new client, already pretty big but my dad says he asked him to revamp the image, maybe spread his stuff out from beyond England. They’re not common in North America, shame, really." Harry was listening avidly when he became aware of a strong, acrid bitterness filling his mouth. He gagged and choked, spitting out the half-chewed bean into his hand and taking gulp after grateful gulp from the bottle of water. "His boss really is the nicest guy, though. Hell of a guy." Harry stared at the bean in his hand, still reeling from the bitterness. "I think you might have heard of him." Was that… earwax? Harry thought in disbelief, his mind swimming. Veruca opened the door to her room and strolled back to where Harry was sitting. She had removed the nasty sundress and now wore a longish, teal shirt that came to points on the side, trimmed with patterned velvet. She also had on a pair of pants with a collection of small cloth loops down the leg. Stuck into one of them was… a wand. "Bertie Botts?" She said, giving him a highly amused look. Harry realized his mouth was open and closed it, still in shock.

Veruca Cavalier, the Dursley’s new favorite person, was a witch.

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