Realizations

Chapter 26 - Be Careful What You Ask For...(Part 1 of 2)

Sunday, July 23, 1995

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"You saw that, right?"

Janet Wright glanced into the kitchen, then met her husband's eyes again.

"Tell me you saw something, at least," he tried again, his whispered tone almost pleading, "because if you didn't I'm more jet lagged than I thought and may require hospitalization."

That earned him a nervous chuckle. "No, I definitely saw something," she verified. "I just can't explain it offhand."

"Oh, good. I was worried for a second there." He paused briefly then tried, "Is that some new toy?"

She shook her head. "Nothing I bought for her."

"Could he have given it to her?" Steve asked next, nodding in Sparky's direction.

"Jimmy?" Janet glanced into the kitchen, then shrugged. "It's possible, I guess, but I don't think so. Besides, Becky didn't act like it was anything new."

"She got rid of it awful damn fast. Where did it go?"

"I don't know. She doesn't have any pockets in those pajamas, and it isn't on the floor."

Husband and wife shared a long, searching look.

"So by all appearances," Steve stated at length, "our oldest daughter can produce and dispose of a white light on demand."

"Um, yes. I'd say that's a fair statement," Jan agreed faintly.

"And the babysitter can make it change color."

She nodded slowly, feeling a little dazed, then added, "Becky, too if I'm reading her reaction correctly."

"Hmm. Good point," he concurred, then frowned. "Was it my imagination or did Kitty act like she doesn't want us to know?"

"No, she definitely seemed nervous."

"Why would she hide something like this from us?"

"How should I know?" she hissed, frustrated and stung by his words. "I found out about this exactly when you did."

"True."

"So what now?"

"Well, they're expecting us to come down, and we're going to look awfully silly if they find us lurking in the hall like this," he pointed out reasonably. "Let's back up and make some noise so they know we're coming in, then we can get this all straightened out."

"Okay."

Janet followed her husband back a few paces, then both of them hurried back, making more noise than before. Impatiently trotting ahead, she reached the kitchen first. "Is everything all right in here?" she called as she hurried in, not quite keeping the anxiety out of her voice.

"Mama!"

Janet smiled gently as she watched Becky run toward her, arms outstretched. Sparky had evidently gotten up in the interim, and was replacing the ice in the freezer while Kitty refilled the sugar bowl. Leaning down she tried to pick up the agitated toddler, but Rebecca shook her head. "What is it, sweetheart?" she asked, frowning, when her daughter latched onto her hand instead and tugged insistently.

"'Parky gotta boo-boo," Rebecca said, dragging Janet over toward the uncertain-looking teen. "Look!"

"Yeah, Becky whacked him in the face with the broom," Kitty clarified, putting the lid on the sugar bowl and joining them.

"Didn't mean to!" Becky returned angrily.

"Of course you didn't," Janet soothed, shooting the older girl a quelling look, and frowning a bit when Jim seemed to reflexively tense at her approach. "Are you all right, Sparks?" she asked concernedly, noting that the boy seemed unusually nervous.

He blinked at that as though taken by surprise, and his wariness diminished a jot. "Yes, ma'am," he responded at length. "It was nothing--just a little accident," he went on, seeming to gain confidence when Janet just looked at him questioningly. "Becky got upset when she realized she'd hit me is all."

Nodding, Janet lifted her younger daughter and propped her on one hip so she could see the object of her concern properly. "He's all right, darling, see?" she coaxed, putting her free hand on Sparky's shoulder when Becky still didn't look completely convinced.

"But I made him cwy!" she confessed miserably.

Don't laugh, don't laugh, don't you dare laugh! Janet ordered herself, struggling mightily to keep from doing just that. Becky was completely serious, and poor Jim already looked like he wished there was a convenient hole he could crawl into. Laughter probably wouldn't be taken well by either party. Even Kitty, who was prone to nervous giggling seemed to realize this, remaining silent as she came over and patted her sister's leg.

"When someone gets hit on the nose it usually makes their eyes water," Janet casually supplied, noting the red mark on Sparky's face and speaking to him as much as Becky. "They taught me that in my self defense class. Now, do you think there's anything we can do to make things better?" she asked, trying to hint to Rebecca that an apology might be in order.

Becky had something else in mind, however. "Kisses," she declared, beaming. "Mama kisses."

Oh. Of course, Janet thought, glancing between the perfectly earnest baby, and the rather horrified-looking young man in front of her. Any calamity capable of producing tears automatically demanded lots of TLC as far as Becky was concerned. Still, Jan hesitated. It wasn't that she minded granting her daughter's request, but something about the boy's demeanor told her that he probably wouldn't tolerate a sudden invasion of his personal space.

Deciding to take a less intrusive route, Janet brought her free hand to her lips, planted a tiny kiss on her index finger, then slowly reached out and transferred the "kiss" to the injury. He stayed still and allowed the touch, but she couldn't help but notice how he tracked her hand with his eyes. "There," she declared brightly. "Better now?"

"Erm, yes. Thanks," he said, sounding a little bewildered, but playing along. Probably for Becky's benefit, Jan mused, wondering again about the cause of his upset. Trying to lighten the mood, she waggled her eyebrows and commented, "Great stuff, mommy spit, wouldn't you agree, Spark?" When he blinked in confusion and looked questioningly at her, she elaborated, "all purpose healing agent," finally earning a chuckle and a small smile.

"And let's not forget 'emergency facial cleanser'," Steve remarked from the doorway, making his presence known for the first time.

Janet jumped in surprise along with the kids, then immediately felt foolish. She'd gotten completely sidetracked, darn it! This certainly wasn't the longest time she'd ever been separated from Steve, but it was evidently going to take a day or two to get used to having him around again. Grinning sheepishly at her husband, she shrugged apologetically while the girls squealed in delight. "Daddy!"

Wasting no time, Kitty dashed across the kitchen at a full run, while Becky struggled to get out of Janet's arms. "Wan' down, Mama!" she fussed impatiently. "Wan' down!"

"All right, all right," Jan chuckled, setting Rebecca on her feet while Steve caught Kitty in a big bear hug and swung her around. "Head's up, Dad," she warned playfully, as Becky made a beeline in his direction. Not missing a beat, Steve set Katrina down then swooped the toddler up in his arms, tossing her in the air and making her shriek with laughter.

Smiling indulgently, Janet stood aside and looked on while her daughters basked in their father's attention. They really had missed him, poor things. As mom, she was the parent of choice when they were tired or ill or otherwise out of sorts. Steve was the one they went to when they wanted to play.

Shaking her head fondly, Jan looked on a little longer then sniffed questioningly. Apparently whatever Sparky had in the oven was pretty close to being done. She turned slightly, intending to ask him how much longer it needed to bake, but the question died unasked when she spotted him standing off to one side with a sad little smile on his face.

Over the course of their acquaintance, Janet had "caught" Jim watching her interact with Kitty and Becky several times, but hadn't thought much of it. She'd always been distracted with the kids, and he always noticed immediately when she looked back, smiling as though merely amused by her family's antics. This time, she'd obviously intruded on a private moment when he thought himself unobserved.

Unsure what to do, she stayed half-turned, watching the boy with her peripheral vision. The unconscious longing in his eyes was painful to see, but mercifully brief. Abruptly he seemed to snap out of it, giving himself an impatient little shake, and casting around for something to do. As Janet continued to observe, he bent to retrieve the forgotten broom, and set about sweeping up the spilled sugar.

Deciding this would be a good opportunity to talk, she went to fetch the dustpan. "Here," she said, holding it for him, and ignoring yet another look of bewildered surprise. "So, how did everything go last night?"

"It went well, I think, all things considered," he replied with a mysterious little smile, then his expression became more guarded. "I'm afraid I did let Becky get overtired, though."

"It happens," Janet shrugged, dumping the sugar into the trash. "That suggestion was more for your sanity than anything else. She can be a handful once she gets past a certain point. There have been a few times when I've considered rocking her to sleep--with real rocks," she teased outrageously, grinning impishly when she startled a laugh out of the boy.

"Yes, well, fortunately it didn't come to that," he remarked dryly, looking up when the kettle whistled and moving toward the stove. "I think everything should be ready now," he commented, changing the subject.

Janet nodded, watching while he took the kettle off the heat, and removed a pan of cinnamon rolls from the oven. She turned to call the rest of the family, but there was no need. Something, probably the kettle, had caught their attention, because Steve and the girls were coming over.

"Cocoa!" Kitty grinned, as she neared. "Dad, will you please make me a cup of hot cocoa?"

"Sure, sweets," he returned with a grin and a flick of his fingers. "POOF! You're a cup of hot cocoa!"

"Daaaaaad!"

Janet rolled her eyes at the two of them, and turned back to the stove when she heard a muffled snort. Steve's moldy old joke had evidently tickled Jim's funny bone, but he was trying very hard not to show it for some reason. Probably thinks it wouldn't be proper, Jan speculated, watching in amusement as the boy picked up the spatula and poked at the bacon, obviously trying to distract himself.

"Well, if your mother will kindly show me where she put everything, I'll be happy to oblige," Steve was saying in response to his decidedly unappreciative audience. Taking her cue, Janet gathered some cups, a spoon and the cocoa mix and arranged them on the counter in front of her husband. "Thanks," Steve said, then lowered his voice. "So, did you ask him?"

"No, he's unusually jumpy today," she murmured in response, standing beside Steve and sliding her arm around his waist while they were talking. "I think he's nervous about meeting you. Let's get him settled down first, then we can see what's going on. There has to be some explanation."

"Okay," Steve said agreeably as he finished spooning the brown powder into the cups. "I'm ready for the kettle now. Shall we?"

Nodding, Janet went back to the stove. "Jimmy, I'd like to introduce you to my husband, Stephen Wright," she said with a smile, indicating the man beside her. "Steve, this is Jim Patterson, otherwise known as 'Sparky'."

"Minerva!"

The Hogwarts Deputy Headmistress looked up in surprise, then put down her quill and hurried over to the fireplace in her office. She didn't even have to look to know the identity of the caller. The "Min-NOI-va!" pronunciation gave it away in an instant.

"Abigail Penstone!" she greeted, gracing the calling witch with a warm smile. "What brings you to my Floo?"

"Well, I wanted to see how you were holding up, and I had a little registration matter that I need your advice on," the little blonde replied, studying her friend with concerned blue eyes. She was a Bronx-raised witch who was currently Head Registrar at the Salem Witches' Institute.

"How can I help, Abby?" she asked curiously, wondering what the matter was.

"Well I was just going over my list of potential Muggle invitees for the next couple of years. One of them moved recently, and will be living in London for a time. I was going to send the standard letter outlining the educational opportunities here in the States, but I thought I might include Hogwarts as a possibility if you don't mind. Her parents might be more agreeable to the idea if she attended school locally."

Minerva shrugged. "I can speak with Albus if you like, but I see no problem with that."

"Fine. I didn't think you'd mind, but I didn't want to assume," Abigail smiled. "Maybe we can arrange to send out a joint welcoming committee--bring out the big guns. Rumor has it that this family may be tough to convince."

"Really?" McGonagall asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yep. We approached the family of one of the parents back when they came of age and were turned down flat."

The Deputy Headmistress frowned lightly, considering this. While not unheard of, it was uncommon for Muggle parents to refuse magical training for their children. As a rule, they were usually rather taken with the idea, and enormously relieved that the oddities they'd been trying to rationalize away had an explanation.

Of course, for every rule there was an exception. Occasionally magical educators ran across parents--and children for that matter--who had to be convinced. In these cases, the children generally had fewer magical "accidents" for a variety of reasons. Some were late bloomers, others were rather weak magically, and still others had an intrinsic degree of control. The worst-case scenario by far was when a child had been traumatized somehow. They were the ones who instinctively shied away from magic as a result, burying it deep in their psyches, often with the memory that caused the fear.

In any case, parents who had observed no strange events or behaviors were naturally more difficult to convince than the poor souls who were sometimes literally beside themselves with bewildered confusion and helpless frustration.

"I have the information here," Abby said, flipping rapidly through a file and interrupting the Deputy Headmistress' musings. "The record cites health concerns as the main issue for refusal. The parents were uncomfortable about sending their child so far away, especially since it didn't seem necessary. Even the satellite school in their region was too far away for their liking. We might have to deal with a similar attitude now that they have magical children of their own, especially if the condition was hereditary."

"A joint effort might be best, then," Minerva agreed. "Hogwarts is primarily a boarding school, but arrangements have been made in the past for children with special needs. We'll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it."

"Sounds like a plan, Minnie. Thanks."

"Anytime, Abby--oh, wait! Speaking of Muggleborn students, you might be interested in these. I just got them back from the printer," Minerva said, hurrying back to her desk and grabbing one of the new 'Muggleborn Guides.' "Take a look, you might find it good enough to modify for your own program," she said, handing the booklet into the fire with a pair of fireplace tongs.

"Really? Better than the last one, I hope," Abigail teased, accepting the booklet, and laughing at the pointed look McGonagall gave her. "Oh, lighten up, Minnie I was only kidding. I'll be in touch about my wayward student, and thanks again."

"I look forward to it," McGonagall said, nodding as Abigail winked out.

Harry Potter sat at the Wright's kitchen table and regarded the family with equal parts amusement, fondness, and confusion.

Something's...up, he thought, as he glanced discreetly around the breakfast table. Well, maybe not "up" but there's a definite difference this morning, he went on, regarding the adults in particular. It wasn't anything huge or obvious, more of a subtle shift in mood, really, but it was there all the same.

Whatever it was.

Munching thoughtfully on a bite of bacon, Harry considered this odd new circumstance. At first he'd simply dismissed the change, blaming it on the excitement surrounding Mr. Wri--no, Steve's arrival. Kitty and Becky were practically bubbling over, and admittedly, the presence of two parents instead of just one was having a slight effect on the household dynamics Harry was used to. That part didn't bother him. What did was the subtle undercurrent of...something he was picking up from Janet and Steve in particular. Frowning lightly, Harry tried to identify the sensation. Anxiety, maybe? Confusion? Concern?

Of course, it was altogether possible that nothing was amiss. Everyone was being as friendly as ever. Nobody was carrying on like he'd suddenly contracted the plague... No one else seemed bothered at all. Maybe everything was normal. Maybe it was just him. He was dealing with a little more than he was used to, after all.

Feeling a little better, Harry considered this new option. He'd picked up the knack of assessing the mood of others around him while he lived with the Dursleys, but even then he had to wonder if he would have noticed anything out of the ordinary this morning if Becky hadn't walloped him with the broom handle. He wasn't sure exactly how it happened, but when he'd been struck, his awareness had kicked in very suddenly and clearly.

The hypersensitivity was fading now, almost completely back to normal, but he was still picking up subtle nuances--like this slight tension--that completely contradicted the obvious atmosphere. Harry wasn't sure he would have noticed anything amiss under normal circumstances, and wasn't quite sure how to interpret this additional input. Unfortunately, he had just enough information to be bloody confused by it.

And speaking of bloody...

The young wizard made sure no one was looking in his direction then scrunched his nose experimentally. It was still a little tender, but his discomfort was fading fast. Thank goodness! Harry thought wryly. Perhaps if he was lucky, it wouldn't leave a noticeable mark. He'd be teased for days if Tom--or worse, Cassie--found out the tiny girl had very nearly bloodied his nose for him!

Still, it had been a close thing. Becky hadn't intended to hurt him, of course, but she'd landed a pretty solid blow all the same. Thanks to Dudley and his gang, Harry was intimately familiar with the telltale liquid feeling that typically heralded a nosebleed. At the time he'd been quite sure he could feel one coming on.

On balance, he decided his nose must have just been running a bit in response to his watering eyes. When he'd reflexively brought his hand up to pinch his nose shut, it hadn't been necessary.

Good thing, too, Harry mused. If Becky got that upset over a few tears, she probably wouldn't take the sight of blood very well at all.

Sneaking a glance at the dark-haired toddler, Harry was pleased to see she was smiling and laughing again. Truthfully, he didn't know if being able to sense things sometimes was a blessing or a curse, but it had certainly come in handy in this case. When he'd made eye contact, suddenly he had known exactly what she was feeling--no guesswork necessary. Affection, remorse, fear of rejection, concern for his hurt... It had been amazing--quite possibly the clearest "reading" he'd ever had. He'd almost been able to pick out actual thoughts!

It was cool, certainly, but Harry wasn't sure he liked the implications, either of the ability itself or the risk of catching Professor Trelawney's attention again. She'd probably insist on tutoring him personally. Oh, well. It could be worse. It could be Snape, he reasoned practically, then considered his companions again.

The Wrights had initially subjected him to loads of 'get to know you' questions about home, friends, school and the like, but eventually they'd tapered off and were mostly ignoring him at the moment.

Well, not ignoring exactly, Harry amended absently. They were just chatting amongst themselves about various topics that he could contribute very little to, like Steve's trip over, local places Janet had scouted out, and the work left to do on the house.

Harry didn't take offense, though. They'd been apart for at least two weeks, so naturally they would want to catch up. Besides, his relatives had never included him in their mealtime conversations, preferring instead to pointedly ignore him. He was more than used to this sort of thing. In a really twisted sort of way, it was almost comfortingly familiar. "Homey", even. Much more so than earlier when they tried to draw him in--Whoa!

Harry blinked in surprise, stopping his ramblings cold when he realized where they were going. Bloody hell, Potter, that's just wrong! he thought with a slight shudder. The fact that everyone was sitting at the breakfast table pajama-clad and barefoot was proof that the Wright House was quite different from the Dursley's! He smirked a bit, imagining Aunt Petunia's reaction. "I set a civilized table, thank you very much," she'd say with a disapproving frown. "At the very least dressing gowns and slippers should be worn!"

Oh, yes. Much too casual for her tastes.

Trying not to snicker aloud, Harry glanced at Becky again, noting as he did so that she was pulling on her father's sleeve with a very sticky hand. "'Parky let Becky do ice," she informed Steve seriously, pointing at her cup once she had his attention. "I puts free pieces in alla cups."

"Well, so you did," Steve said, picking up his juice cup and taking a peek inside, after trying in vain to brush the mess off his sleeve. Including Kitty in his address, he invited, "So, speak to me daughters. What did you do last night?"

Kitty and Becky didn't need to be to be asked twice. Brightening at their father's request, they practically tripped over each other trying to tell him everything at once. Grinning at the girls' chatter, Harry listened as they told their parents about some of the things they'd done that morning and the night before. Since he wasn't being maligned too badly and no mention was being made of how he'd "cleaned" the living room, he left them to it, listening with half an ear, and letting his mind wander back again.

Maybe he was so accustomed to the Dursleys' fearful loathing that he was automatically expecting the worst and creating problems where there were none. The lingering hint of unease and confusion might have something to do with the parents being startled awake by their youngest child's panicked cries. It could also be a few stray "first meeting" nerves, or perhaps he was simply feeling echoes of his own stupid insecurities.

He hadn't said as much to anyone, but Harry had been horribly nervous about meeting the man of the house. He'd grown rather fond of his new friends in the short time he'd known them, and had been irrationally convinced that Janet's husband would hate him on sight.

Happily, all his fears had proven groundless. His aunt and uncle had always adopted a "guilty until proven innocent" stance with him, so he'd recoiled instinctively when Becky's horrified wails rang through the house, fully expecting the elder Wrights to burst into the kitchen flinging accusations and assuming the worst. Even in the midst of trying to calm Rebecca he'd been braced, primed and ready for a confrontational, negative reaction...

...so naturally the opposite had occurred.

They'd come rushing into the kitchen as expected, but the overall attitude had been one of concern, not condemnation. Steve had initially hung back, for which Harry was grateful, letting Janet handle the initial assessment and offer, erm, "medical aid" before announcing his presence.

Smiling softly, Harry touched his nose where Janet had, then sobered again. His reaction to Steve and his girls had been rather unexpected. Well, okay, not really unexpected, just stronger than normal. He usually did a fair job of accepting the fact that others had loving families and he...didn't, but today it had been harder.

Feeling inexplicably bereft and very much the outsider, he'd had to stifle an envious sigh and grimly battle down a surge of wistful longing when Steve twirled Kitty around and tossed Becky in the air. He'd told himself that he was being stupid of course, but hang it all! It was bloody hard to be on the outside looking in all the time! It seemed like he'd been there his whole life.

Because of the time he'd spent in the cupboard, or perhaps in spite of it, Harry had developed a rather vivid imagination, and had a tendency toward daydreaming. When he was very young, one of his most cherished dreams had been for some loving long-lost relative to come and take him away from the Dursleys. Later, especially after being introduced to Hogwarts and the Burrow, he'd consoled himself with Ron and Hermione's friendship, and the secret, treasured goal of having a family of his own someday once he'd finished his schooling and established himself.

When Sirius had come into his life Third Year, it seemed as though his childhood fantasy might come true after all, but now... Now, living with Sirius and having a family of his own seemed very far away indeed. Voldemort's return further complicated matters. In his more pessimistically morbid moments, Harry sometimes wondered if he and Sirius would both survive long enough to see either dream become reality. It wasn't something he'd ever discussed with anyone, but sometimes even the idea of living long enough to finish his schooling seemed highly unlikely.

Stop it, he chided himself impatiently. This seemed to be his morning for melancholy introspection. Voldemort will win for sure if you keep that attitude. You've had a good time here, focus on that.

Good advice, but awfully hard to follow, Harry thought with a small sigh, smiling slightly as the family laughed at something in the girls' recount. At least he'd been able to shake himself out of his reverie before they caught him staring.

Once the initial hubbub died down, Janet had brought Steve over. Harry had tried to play it cool during the introduction, but had ruined the effect he was shooting for when he turned to shake the man's hand...without putting the spatula he was using down first. He'd cringed and flushed in embarrassment, but Steve had merely chuckled and brought his own hand higher, clapping Harry on the shoulder as if he'd meant to do that all along. "I see we use the same tailor," Steve had said, indicating his own sweats and t-shirt, and the awkward moment passed.

It hadn't been a flawless meeting, Harry supposed, but it could have gone much worse. Stephen Wright was just a shade under six feet in height with Kitty's light brown hair, and Becky's gray-blue eyes. His manner was friendly enough, but he seemed to be reserving final judgement with regard to the young man in his kitchen. Harry could live with that, though. Janet's husband wasn't hostile, just...wary. Wary and protective of his family.

As he should be, Harry approved, subconsciously passing his own masculine judgement. Can't be too careful, you know. It was all right, really. One of the most profound experiences he'd had this summer was the satisfaction of being judged by his own merits and failings rather than prejudices or preconceived notions. If Steve was willing to give him a fair shake, Harry was fairly certain he'd win him over. Besides, Stephen Wright couldn't be much pickier than Flourish and Blotts' manager, Geoffrey Reed, could he?

Abruptly realizing that everyone had stopped talking, Harry looked up questioningly. Oops, what'd I miss? he wondered, glancing at Steve and Janet, who had identically contrite looks on their faces. When they noticed he was looking at them, they both smiled apologetically. After casting around for something to say, Janet broke off a piece of her cinnamon roll and popped it in her mouth.

"Mmm. This is wonderful. Absolutely marvelous," she grinned brightly, bringing the conversation back to more common ground. "You kids really did an excellent job with breakfast," she continued, beaming proudly at all three children before favoring Harry with a broad wink.

"I'll second that," Steve chimed in, catching Harry's eye and raising his cup in a subtle "toasting" motion before taking a cautious sip of the steaming cocoa inside.

Heartened, Harry acknowledged their tacit praise with a little nod and a look of pleased embarrassment. Steve and Janet were still looking a little chagrined, he noted, like they were afraid they'd insulted him by allowing themselves to get so sidetracked. If they only knew, he thought ironically. Compared to the Dursleys this is better than exemplary behavior!

Steve, meanwhile, set his cocoa down, and continued his earlier thought. "After living on fast food, airplane food and my own cooking, almost anything would be an improvement, but this beats my wildest dreams by a mile and a half," Mr. Wright declared, getting a mischievous glint in his eye. "Becky, my girl, when did you become such a fantastic cook?" he teased, kissing her hand and making her giggle happily.

Harry smiled as he watched their antics, relaxing further as the underlying tension slipped another notch, and a tremulous feeling of well-being began to take its place.

"We helped, Dad, but Sparky did most of it."

Ah, Kitty. Harry rolled his eyes at the younger girl while her parents exchanged a fond look. The Literal One. Her desire for fairness was equaled only by her desire for correctness. The Sorting Hat was probably going to have a hard time choosing between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, he theorized, before addressing the brown-haired girl.

"Why'd you go and spoil it? We were having them on!" he teased, breaking into helpless laughter with the rest of the family when Kitty crossed her arms and shot him a credible imitation of her mother's "I-Wasn't-Born-Yesterday-You-Know" look.

"Well if that's true, then I must offer my congratulations on a job well done," Stephen grinned at length, tipping an imaginary hat in Harry's direction once everyone had calmed down. "My culinary skills are limited to ground meat and barbeque grills--and no comments from the peanut gallery," he warned, shooting playful glares at his daughters and his wife.

"I didn't say a word, dear," Janet said innocently, while Kitty rolled her eyes and Becky laughed into her hands.

"Pfft. You don't have to. I can hear you thinking all the way over here."

Join the queue, Harry mused wryly, then looked up when Mr. Wright addressed him directly.

"So, Jim," Steve said conversationally, "my loving wife tells me you play on your house team."

"Yes, sir."

Steve waited a bit for Harry to elaborate then prompted, "So what's your sport? You look a little small for caber tossing or rugby...cricket, maybe? Soccer?" he speculated, studying the boy appraisingly.

"Uhhhh," Harry stalled, thinking furiously. "What do I say now?" he wondered frantically. Janet had just accepted "Sports" and "house team" and left it at that. Ironically, it was she who came to his rescue.

"What Spark's too polite to out and out say, is 'Soccer' is called 'Association Football' here," she corrected, then giggled ruefully. "Some people are very emphatic about that," she added, as though speaking from experience.

"Oh, yeah," Steve said, frowning and rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "This is going to take some getting used to, isn't it? So what do they call American football here?"

Janet's smile grew positively wicked. "Ridiculous?" she suggested impishly, her manner suggesting that this was her opinion, no matter what the British population at large thought.

Harry glanced uncertainly between the two, but this was evidently a rhetorical argument. Instead of being angry or upset, Stephen heaved a long-suffering sigh and shook his head mournfully. "This is proof that you only have so much influence over those you love," he lamented, raising his eyebrows at Harry and gently shaking Janet's shoulder. "I've been working on this girl for twelve years or more, and she still doesn't have a sports-loving bone in her body."

Having no reply to that, Harry simply shrugged and smiled in a "Her loss" sort of way while wondering what Steve and Janet would make of Quidditch. He wasn't sure about Kitty, but Becky... If today was any indication, she had the makings of a brilliant beater--unless she ended up playing Quodpot,* of course.

"Now me, I love sports," Steve went on, ignoring Janet's martyrish eye-roll. "I like to watch, I like to play--I've even coached." He looked Harry over again, and speculated, "Football, eh? So what position? Forward? Midfielder?"

"I play either, but a friend of mine says I'm a better Forward," Harry replied, thinking of Dean Thomas. His Muggleborn housemate was a huge West Ham fan, and liked to organize casual games on the school grounds in good weather.

"Mmm. Sounds like a lot of running. What kind of summer training program do you have?" Steve asked.

"Training program?" Harry echoed questioningly.

"Yeah. Your coach doesn't want you to get out of shape, right? Aren't you supposed to do some sort of conditioning over the summer break?"

"There isn't an official one, I'm afraid," Harry admitted, finally catching on. "My friends and I play practice games and work on our basic skills when we can, though."

"Ah, well, that's too bad," Steve sighed, sounding disappointed. "I was hoping you'd know where some good jogging areas were around here. Jannie hasn't had a chance to look into it. Something about being too tired to run after all that unpacking. I ask you," he teased, earning a playful cuff on the shoulder from his wife.

"So you like to exercise, I take it?" Harry asked, grinning.

Steve shrugged. "Yeah, I guess I do. I was always getting "volunteered" to lead P.T. when I was in the service. I was a trainer full time at one assignment."

Now it was Harry's turn to eye the other male appraisingly. "Cool," he grinned. "So do you hire out?" he asked, only half teasing.

"Oh, I'm sure something could be arranged," Steve grinned after pretending to consider it. "Don't worry, kid, we can fix you up."

"You do realize you've just signed on as his latest victim, don't you?" Janet remarked dryly, ignoring her husband's indignant protests, and seeming to verify Harry's growing suspicion that he might have gotten more than he bargained for.

"I don't want to be a bother," he hedged.

"No bother," Steve assured him with a shrug. "It'll be fun."

"So, Spark," Janet broke in, changing the subject, "what sights would you recommend as a native?"

"Sights?"

"Yeah. You know, touristy places," she clarified. "I only have so long before I have to start my job, and we want to make the best use of our free time. After I start working the schedule will be a little more constricted. I was just wondering what your opinion was on some of the places you've visited. Which ones are worth the trip, and what ones aren't all they're cracked up to be?"

Ah, Harry thought, pondering her question for a second before coming up empty. "I haven't been to a lot of places so I really can't help you," he admitted without thinking, then cringed and hastily tried to cover his slip. "What I mean is, my aunt and uncle never liked to take me sightseeing. They were always afraid something strange would happen," he adlibbed, hoping they'd think his relatives were just wary of being mugged or something. "I might be able to get some recommendations from some friends of mine," he offered hesitantly when Steve and Janet shared an undecipherable look.

Janet gave him a searching look, then reached out and gave his hand a little squeeze. "I'm sorry to hear that, Jim," she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact.

Harry noted absently that she tended to call him "Jim" rather than "Sparky" when she was being serious about something. "They did take me to a little zoo in Surrey** once," he pointed out. "There's a nice reptile house there."

Brightening, Janet nodded with growing enthusiasm. "That might be nice, the girls like zoos." She glanced at him uncertainly, then shrugged. "If we can work around your schedule, maybe you'd like to see a few places with us. Once we figure out where we're going, of course."

"No museums!" Kitty piped up, seconded by Becky who agreed, "No zee-ums!"

"Hey, now wait just a minute," Stephen objected. "What do you mean 'no museums?'"

"Museums are boring, Dad!"

"Museums in moderation, just like everything else," Janet said firmly, heading off a squabble. "Besides, we aren't going anywhere until the house is finished. There are just a few boxes left in the living room."

Steve grinned guiltily. "And a few more coming in the mail," he admitted. "Hey!" he said, brightening suddenly, and jerking a thumb in Harry's direction. "Does the kid hire out?" he asked, trying to--

"Steve!"

--no, make that successfully getting a rise out of his wife. "Kidding! Just kidding!" he hastened to clarify, holding up his hands to ward her off when it looked like she might just strike him. "I'll deal with it, already! Sheesh!"

"Sorry, Spark," Janet chuckled. "People usually get one or two free visits before being subjected to the Wright Family Insanity."

"Yeah, well, a good sense of humor never hurt anyone," Steve retorted, grinning at his wife. "Besides, judging from your calls and e-mails, I figured you'd adopted him already."

"Well no, actually," Janet played along, winking at Becky and Kitty, "but that's a great idea! What do you say, Sparky?" she said, giving him her most winsome smile. "Can we keep you?"

Harry blinked a few times, stunned. He knew she didn't mean it in a "legal and binding" kind of way--but still! He'd never been formally asked before--well, except for Sirius, of course. George had sort of "dubbed" him an official Weasley at King's Cross, and before that it had been somewhat implied, but that wasn't quite the same.

Of course after last night it was entirely possible that neither Sirius nor the Weasleys wanted anything to do with him.

Stifling a sigh, Harry floundered a moment then decided he was being ridiculous. It was only a game. It wasn't like he was betraying Sirius or anything, and today had reminded him very clearly of how badly he'd always wanted to be part of a "real" family. Seeing no harm in it, he grinned and said, "Sure," in what he hoped was a playful way. "Sorry, you just took me by surprise."

"Well, nothing about this morning has been exactly normal I guess," Steve said, sharing an ironic look with Janet. "Welcome to the funny farm," he joked, reaching a hand across the table.