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The Yankees Nephew and the Philosophers Stone	By : Wilde_Guess Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 5004 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter Universe I am making no money from this fanfiction

Chapter List
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- 2
The usual disclaimers for Harry Potter Fanfiction apply. The “Harry Potter Universe” belongs to J. K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scholastic Press, Warner Brothers, and others who are not me. This work is unpaid fanfiction, and I make no money from it. While I will minimize direct quoting, a FEW direct and near direct quotes from the US Hardcover Editions of the Rowling books will occur under "fair use."

Chapter 1. The Boy Who Lived With Foreigners.

John and Petunia Dvorak of Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, were a perfectly normal and boring couple, or at least that was the impression they tried to give their neighbors. Because of his job, John made every effort to not be interesting to anyone, not even the gossiping neighbors of his “just outside the London Beltway” suburban home. And while they never brought embarrassment to themselves in their efforts, those efforts were also more or less doomed from the start. Having eleven kids will tend to do that to you. So will being almost seven feet tall with red hair and silver eyes.

John was six feet and seven inches tall and weighed two hundred seventy pounds, or at least appeared to. He was trim and muscular, but he was a large man and weighed accordingly, even while being in great physical condition. He was also an affable man when he saw fit to be, and was seldom not in good humour. His voice, in whatever tone he chose to use, was almost indistinguishable from that of Gregory Peck.

Petunia wasn’t ugly by any means, but she had to try just a little harder than some women to look her best. She was five feet and five inches tall and weighed about one hundred thirty five pounds. Her hair was stylishly short and blond, but needed conditioner more than most to keep from becoming brittle. She was not ugly by any means, but she was more pretty than beautiful. And, while her complexion wasn’t bad, she also needed makeup just a little bit more than most women her age. Her neck also looked longer than average, but that was more of an illusion brought on by her general build and short hair.

John had been married and widowed once before, and the eldest two of the seven boys and four girls they were raising came from that marriage. Four of the boys, and all four girls came from “accidents of circumstance” where John was obliged to either adopt (for four of the boys) or take permanent guardianship (for the four girls) of the rest, save his youngest son Dudley John Dvorak; who he had with Petunia. John and Petunia loved all eleven of their kids, but having eleven kids made them instant gossip fodder.

John wasn’t British, and wasn’t trying to become British either. He was a linguist for the United States State Department from the south suburbs of Chicago. He had a diplomatic passport along with two houses, trusteeship of four more houses and two apartment buildings, and trusteeship of a business (owned by his ‘third son’ and actual oldest nephew) in the United States, along with twelve cars and four motorcycles in long-term storage. His young wife and the mother of his youngest child (so far) was very British, though she was studying to gain US Citizenship so that when John finally transferred, retired, or just quit working for the Diplomatic Service that she could “go home” with her husband and their children.

John’s thirty-six years of life were “interesting,” starting with earning a Medal of Honor as a Special Forces Medic and Team Chief in the Vietnam War while losing part of his left leg. He ended up marrying a Playboy Bunny whom he impregnated twice in less than a year while he was recuperating in Chicago from losing his lower left leg. After their second son was born, they married, and he accepted a medical retirement from the US Army.

John’s first wife Catherine had a ‘frenemy’ co-worker at the Playboy Club in Chicago who sabotaged her birth control pills, and caused the pregnancy that became John’s eldest son Daniel. This woman had two daughters by the same man, whom she married after having the first kid. And, when that frenemy killed her husband and herself in a drug and alcohol fueled rage in 1971, John was compelled by his wife to become the guardian of the two girls from that relationship.

The week before John lost his leg in Vietnam, he saved the life of an infantry company commander. He became friends with that man in Illinois later on, and his two sons became friends with that man’s three sons, while his then eldest nephew befriended the man’s youngest son. That officer had also incurred the honor debt of a distant relative of John’s, who was married to a woman much more closely related to John. So when that former officer and the “unknowingly related couple” died in an apartment building fire in the early hours of the twenty-first of January in 1978 along with the officer’s wife, the officer’s former girlfriend, and two of the officer’s three sons; John was obliged to take custody of the one surviving son of the officer and the daughter of the relatives.

John was also related to a “crime family” of bootleggers, which while mostly known of by his employers was something he took great pains to keep unknown and forgotten. John’s older brother Ricardo, who had managed to 'get out' of the "crime family," married the younger sister of his first wife. When Ricardo, his wife Stacy, and Stacy’s adopted brother, sister-in-law, and niece by adoption were killed in a van crash on the third of September of 1978, John “inherited” his three nephews and double first cousins of his two boys, along with the sister-in-law’s niece-by-adoption’s daughter, who was otherwise no blood relation.

His first wife was also in the van, so John now had ten kids between the ages of fourteen months and twelve years old with no help in raising them. He also had no desire to stay around the south suburbs of Chicago waiting for the next ‘inopportune’ death to happen.

He had been selling luxury cars very successfully and had also made a lot of money trading grain futures. Since Catherine and he lived modestly and saved their money, and Catherine’s life insurance policies were very large, he had even more money. Finally, his retirement pension and Medal of Honor stipend were enough that with the other money he'd saved he had no financial need to work. But he needed a job for his own satisfaction. So he looked up an old friend from when he was in the Army, and with that man’s help managed to get a job with the US Embassy in London as a French and Vietnamese linguist, since he mastered both languages to native-fluency levels while he was in the Special Forces.

The same day John started working in the US Embassy in London, Petunia Evans had already been working there as a clerk-typist for just over two years. She had originally taken the job, as well as the typing class she took after taking her A Levels, so she could find a wealthy husband. However, she fell in love with the job itself, until she met John.

Despite their thirteen-year age difference, Petunia’s occasionally rude and ‘superior’ behavior, and John’s then ten kids, they were instant friends from their first meeting, and rapidly fell in love. John not only helped Petunia become a better person, but he also helped Petunia reconcile with her estranged younger and prettier sister and future brother in law. Her younger sister Lily, her brother-in-law James Potter, and their nephew Harry were three of the secrets Petunia hoped her neighbors never learned; or at least their talents were. Lily was a witch.

Lily was not a spiteful or disagreeable woman, the “common” meaning of “witch” today. She was a witch, spells, magic wands, cauldrons of simmering potions, all of it. And her husband and son were wizards, who also had spells, magic wands, and so on. John’s and her son Dudley was also a wizard, so while her resentment of Magic was now more or less non-existent, her fear of discovery by the neighbors had truly risen to new heights, despite her loving the son she gave birth to just as much as the ten kids her husband brought with him from the United States. But even with the jealousies with her younger sister gone, her own insecurities about being known to be associated with “not-normal” lingered on.

John was never bothered about Magic. When Petunia told him about Lily being a witch right before they got married, she thought that John would dump her on the spot. His actual reply was “So? Some people can sing, while I cannot. I don’t go through life making myself miserable about others being musical where I can only listen.”

Petunia could only agree in stunned gratitude. Just the week prior, John’s school-age kids got permission from their school to serenade her at work with a wonderful rendition of “Let Him Call You Sweetheart.” When she asked why they were serenading her with that song, John's oldest son Danny retorted, “Vietnam had Dad’s singing declared a War Crime. He knows lots of great music—he just can’t sing or play it!” Even John was amused by the boys’ showmanship and humour.

John’s first meeting with Lily and James almost went off of the rails. First, despite both Petunia and Lily insisting otherwise, James’ friend Sirius Black tagged along, to their “family” dinner at one of the most prestigious restaurants in London. Second, John and James started debating personal transportation.

John sighed, “I ended up having to get Pet a Silver Wraith II since she doesn’t like either my FX4 or my ’67 Ford Galaxie I brought over when I got the job at the Embassy, and she can't even legally drive them. Most overpriced car I ever bought in my life, and only the third new car I’ve ever bought. And it’s still ‘too big’ and ‘too small’ for her at the same time!”

James, who was already cheerfully drunk before the appetizers were finished retorted, “Well I’ve got a Nimbus 1200—the finest racing broom in the world!”

John retorted, “Is that the one with the 1200cc ‘bang-zoom blessing’ where everyone else is only running 750s?”

James looked at John like he’d grown a second head. But Sirius seamlessly retorted, “Naw, they’re only running 500s, and the ‘bang-zoom blessing’ is actually 1450cc’s.”

The three men looked at each other nonplussed for almost a full minute before they all broke down in uncontrollable laughter. For the rest of the night, Petunia and Lily were left practically alone with each other while John, James, and Sirius talked about war, motorcycles, cars, brooms, and their parents and mentors. At one point, John declared Fleamont Potter, James’s father, the “Wizarding Jules Montenier.” After the reference was explained to James and Sirius, they agreed completely, though they pointed out that Fleamont Potter was even more accomplished, and in more areas than just cosmetics and hygiene.

James had also agreed to buy Lily a Ford Capri and lessons to get her driving license in it. James had even thanked John for reminding him that Lily and Petunia were both Princesses, and deserved only the very best their Princes had on offer. It was only a Ford Capri instead of a Corniche II James promised that night because Lily refused to get a “frumpy rich man’s car” like her older sister Tuney, or get stuck with a restricted license. Tuney was all-on-board, and would eventually get a Ford Capri of her own, but not that night.

But that was before James and Lily married. They now had their son Harry, and they had to go into hiding. There was a “Wizarding War” going on, and the terrorist who styled himself “Lord Voldemort” was trying to murder Harry, and wasn’t at all bothered with murdering James and Lily while he was at it.

Petunia and Lily had only seen each other twice after reconciling when they found that out, and “little Dudley” and “little Harry” had only met each other once. At least the two toddlers did get along as well as any toddler cousins could be expected to. Both women hoped their “next” children would also get along, since both Petunia and Lily were expecting again girls in February.

It was now early Sunday Morning, the first of November. John had been called in to the Embassy to do some emergency translation and analysis, and was quietly eating a quick pre-dawn breakfast along with a cup of coffee, while “Pet” drank some tea. While John worked at the Embassy, Petunia had quit the day she and John had been married, since her ambition in life was to be a well-educated and talented stay at home Mum. That was two years ago last September First. In the intervening two years. Pet had learned a lot about how to run a home and kitchen, even if the kitchen actually belonged to her second oldest stepson. She had prepared the “full spread,” and served both John and herself enough to fill themselves, with the large quantity remaining for her ten stepchildren who dined on solid food. They had both just finished up their portions, with the rest waiting to be devoured by their ten oldest children. Fifteen month old Dudley John grazed off of the portions of whomever fed him that particular meal beyond jarred baby food, formula, or nursing from Pet.

“I’m just as worried about James and Lily as you are, dear. In fact, this stupid Sunday call-in should be good for two days of “comp time,” so after we get the older kids seen off to school or daycare tomorrow, we can bundle up Dudley and drive out there. The only advantage of their ‘hiding’ is that they’ll all be home except for maybe Remus Lupin.”

“I can’t believe that you all are so at ease around that man. He is a good man, but he’s also a…”

“Morning, ‘Mummy’” announced David John Hernando Rush-Cook Dvorak, who had turned eleven just the previous month. While he was John’s nephew by blood, John and his older brother Ricardo could easily pass for twins, so David looked more like John’s son than John’s eldest biological son, who would turn fourteen that December. Along with the silver eyes, David had red hair, freckles, and was tall and muscular for his age.

“And Remus is only contagious on full moon nights, when he locks himself up in a vault so he doesn’t spread it. Both Dads raised me not to shun sick people.” Though all of John and Petunia’s kids liked Remus Lupin, along with “Uncle Sirius,” Uncle James, and Aunt Lily the few times they’d met. David for whatever reason young kids use, decided that he actually admired the closet werewolf, and you couldn’t speak ill of the man in his presence without being corrected.

“Morning, Mom” announced Aaron Russell Rush-Cook Dvorak and Paul Tarsus Rush-Cook Dvorak. Aaron was three years to the second younger than his older brother David, who called Aaron his ‘Third Birthday Present.’ Aaron had more of his birth-mother’s face than David did, but you’d have to see a picture of the woman to realize that. Paul was his older brother Aaron at the age of four years and four months. Like David, they had red hair, silver eyes, and were large and muscular for their ages, but not yet so much as to be noticeable.  Aaron treated his older brother more like a second parent than just an older brother, and this closeness suited both Aaron and David perfectly. They both considered Paul a "brat," but all three blood-siblings loved each other. David was very protective of both Aaron and Paul, in no small part because Paul had only been two months old when they lost both of their birth-parents.

Paul proved both his sweetness and brattiness by announcing, "Wanna see Harry, Mummy."

Petunia had had the foresight to prepare an “English Sunday Breakfast” and plate all the food “family style” so Aaron and David politely served Paul and themselves while the rest of the family started to gather and talk.

“I gave you guys enough time before I came down, didn’t I?” David asked. He added, “And I sang Lauds to myself while getting dressed so I didn’t accidentally eavesdrop.” Like his birth-father, David’s hearing was very sensitive, to the point where he actually had to make a serious effort to not invade others’ privacy. John and all the Dvorak kids and adoptees were at least fluent with Latin; John, the Dvorak boys, and Pixie Drake were natively fluent and could use Latin as an everyday language. And while all the children John cared for could sing, David was the best of the lot.

John looked at David for a moment before answering, “Yes. You had another nightmare.” John wasn’t asking.

“Yes, Dad. They’re getting fewer, and talking with Tim and Father Smythe is helping out a lot, but it’s only been five years—and I still remember every minute of that night. Even Aaron remembers some of it.”

“Morning, Mom and Dad” announced eleven-year-old Tim Cash. While John adopted Tim, the boy insisted on keeping the last name he was born with, and John had no problem letting him. He had slightly wavy black hair, blue eyes, and was slightly taller than average for his age. He looked a lot like an eleven-year-old Johnny Cash. He was in fact a distant blood relation of the famous American singer and musician. He was by temperament a drummer. And while he could sing quite well, his distinctive bass growl made him somewhat shy about singing, even with everyone else liking his voice.

Tim continued, “I would rather have ‘open nightmares’ than the misplaced guilt I have anyhow…” Tim had survived the loss of his birth family only because he had slept over at David's house several blocks away from the apartment building his family lived in. Tim started drumming on the edge of the table, which he frequently did when he was nervous. He also ‘drummed’ when he was excited, happy, or bored.

David told Tim, “Concrete and Clay, Tim.”

Tim’s random drumming changed over to the rhythm part for the 1965 Unit 4+2 hit, as the rest of the kids came down the stairs fully dressed, quietly singing along. All of the boys except the eldest and youngest were wearing polo shirts and dress trousers, and all four of the girls were wearing autumn weight dresses.

The eldest boy, thirteen-year-old Daniel Andrew or “Danny”, was wearing a white t-shirt, faded blue jeans, and a denim vest. That's how Danny always dressed except when forced, even when going to Mass. He was five foot four, and weighed one hundred ten pounds. He wore his fine jet-black hair in a short ponytail, but he had his father’s silver eyes. In fact, the silver eyes and similar temperament were the only things he shared with his father. People who knew John’s first wife all remarked that Danny was a perfectly masculine version of her with his dad’s eyes, and those less familiar with the family always wrongly guessed that he was an adoptee, rather than John’s oldest natural child.

If any one child in the Dvorak household could be blamed for all the rest of them being as musical as they were, it would be Danny. On the tenth of May in 1975, Danny and Michael were on a camping trip with their Cub Scout Troop. One of the other Scouts got very careless with some gasoline he’d smuggled out, and doused Danny’s sleeping bag with burning gas. Danny was in the sleeping bag at the time, and was lucky to only get second and third degree burns on his right hand.

Following several months of skin grafts and hospitalization, Danny was mostly put back together, and he kept up with his regular classes at school. However, in order to make Danny use his right hand again, John and Catherine convinced Danny to take guitar lessons and stick with them. Michael even volunteered to learn the bass guitar to support Danny. And while Ricardo was already having David take piano lessons, David also insisted on learning the bass guitar like “big cousin Michael.” When Aaron was big enough that he could actually hold and play a guitar, he insisted on getting a twelve string guitar to prove that he could be a better guitar player than his older brothers.

Despite a rocky start, all four boys learned all three guitars, and they were considered near-prodigies with them. David and Aaron, along with Delilah and Debbie, also played the piano.

Fifteen-month-old Dudley John Dvorak was wearing a one-piece day clothes set suitable for autumn and for changing his nappies as needed. He was a normal size fourteen-month-old boy, who gave every promise of being handsome as he grew older. Like his father, he had silver eyes and wavy red hair

Fifteen-year-old Delilah Johnson carried her littlest brother down after having got both him and herself dressed, and sat him in his high chair next to his mother. She wore her strawberry-blond hair at shoulder length, and saw the world through medium blue eyes. She was five foot four and weighed one hundred twenty pounds..

Thirteen-year-old Debbie Ptak and thirteen year old Michael Dvorak helped plate and pass food around as everybody settled down and settled in to breakfast. Debbie wore her strawberry blonde hair in a pixie cut, was five foot one, and weighed one hundred pounds. Her blue eyes were just darker than her older sister’s. Michael wore fashionably short red wavy hair and had silver eyes like his father and most of his male siblings. At five foot one, he was three inches shorter than his ten-month-older brother Danny, for now; but he weighed every bit as much.

The last two to the table were thirteen-year-old Patricia Susan “Pixie” Drake and eleven year old Saria Beatrice Cook. Both girls were roughly the same size. Sara was of average size for an eleven year old girl. Pixie was of small stature, but healthy. Pixie was related to John, and had the silver eyes to prove it, along with ash-blonde hair worn at shoulder length. Saria had blue eyes and fine straight black hair that she wore to the bottom of her shoulder blades. Pixie sat next to Tim, while Saria sat next to David, who was only legally related to her since David’s birth mother was adopted by Saria’s great grandparents. Saria’s birth mother had only been thirteen when she had Saria, and David’s birth mother was only eighteen.

“Embassy call you in, Dad?” Danny asked between bites while they all politely but quickly ate their morning meal.

John replied, “Yes, and I might have to put in a full day. I’ll be taking the Ford into Ashford to catch the train, and I’ll need to leave quickly so I don’t miss it. You kids be sure to behave for your Mom.”

John and Petunia had finished their meals, but the non-toddler kids were quickly catching up, even with Delilah helping Pet feed Dudley.

The rounds of “I love you” kisses, hugs, and so on typical in a loving family were quickly exchanged as John left the house to drive to the Ashford train station, followed shortly by Petunia making the first of three trips in the Rolls to get the kids to St. Theresa’s RC Church in Ashford, where David and Aaron were set to be altar servers for the eight o’clock Mass.

That was the ‘surprise’ that actually put more strain on John and Petunia’s relationship than magic, though they had long since gotten past that, too. England was not a particularly friendly country for Catholics, because of the history England had starting with King Henry VIII. Petunia, like Lily was raised, as a “Creaster" Church of England Protestant. Petunia wasn’t happy at first with ‘Popery,’ even though she honestly had no clue what Popery was. All of the Dvoraks were Catholic, and were in fact observant ones, though they weren’t obnoxious about it, and they were quite fine with magic. Petunia adjusted easily enough, though, and was herself converting to the “foreign” faith.

As John carefully backed out onto Privet Drive, he noticed a grey tabby cat holding a map while staring balefully at Number Eight. John thought unkindly to himself, “Well, that fat oaf Dursley must have pissed some witch or wizard off badly enough. Maybe ‘Tabby Dearest’ will convince him to move before he brings his fat dyke older sister over to hit on Pet and let her dogs run free and shit all over my yard again.”

To the extent that John liked companion animals, he was more of a cat person. When his first wife Catherine’s Siamese died of a broken heart right after her, he decided ‘no mas’ on companion animals, at least for a while. And John honestly had no problems or animus against lesbians, either. Except of course for the fat ugly ones who had multiple odours that could knock a buzzard off of a shit-wagon, had natural moustaches as impressive than their younger brother's, and believed that they had the right to hit on his wife while sending her dogs off-leash to chase his children and shit in his lawn. And Dursley himself didn't seem to get the clue from the untraceable note he left on Dursley's porch along with the ten pounds of his sister's dog shit he removed from his own yard.

John’s commute into Vauxhall Station and bus ride to the Embassy off Grosvenor Square went quietly, as did his translation and analysis work through the day. He finally finished up about half-five; and after making sure he had both Monday and Tuesday off to visit in-laws in the West Country, John started his commute home.

During the day, though, there were reports in the news of fireworks being set off all over the UK, and for large numbers of owls, normally night birds, flying about in broad daylight. John wondered what that was about until he encountered a somewhat inebriated group of bizarrely dressed locals outside of Vauxhall Station.

Realizing that this group of wizards and witches might have a reason for celebrating, John approached the group. He asked them, “Good evening, everyone. What’s the good news?”

The closest wizard answered, “You Know Who is dead!”

John replied, “You mean the terrorist with the fake French name who’s been running around murdering and causing trouble?”

“Yeah, tha’ (hic!) bashtard! Boy Who Lived sorted his arse right out, he did!”

They were interrupted by a man and woman in their mid twenties wearing official looking scarlet robes. Using a stern voice the group heard quite well without it carrying any farther, the man announced, “Aurors Longbottom and Longbottom. You lot need to clear off, before I have to take you in to the Ministry Lockup! The Muggles are noticing, and we’ve already had to call in a pair of Obliviators. And as for you, sir…”

John retorted, “I’m a Squib Yank on a Diplomatic Passport; and I just found out about the Fake Frenchy Terrorist buying the farm, so don’t even think about it. And you two look familiar...”

“John Dvorak?” the woman asked in amazement.

After they finally recognized each other, John replied, “Good to see you again, Frank and Alice, even if you’re working. Lily introduced us at her wedding, though Pet and I couldn’t stay long. She was still more nervous around ‘the good stuff’ then, even with Lily and her starting to reconcile. She’s much better now with Dudley helping her out.”

Frank and Alice Longbottom both sighed sadly before first announcing, “All right you lot! Thanks to John vouching for you, you aren’t going to the Lockup. But clear off! And don’t go Appariting either, you’ll only Splinch yourselves as drunk as you lot are.”

After the revelers briskly left the three alone, Frank told John, “I’ve got some bad news to tell you, John; and here isn’t the place for it. Is there someplace close by we can go?”

John answered, “If you can Side-Along Apparate me to the Ashford Surrey train station, we can go to my place in Little Whinging. With what’s been going on lately, I have a feeling Pet’ll need to hear your bad news, too.” The two Aurors agreed, and with two sharp cracks, they were no longer outside of London Vauxhall.

§§§

Ten minutes later, a somber John and his two Auror friends entered the front genkan of John’s home, and started removing their shoes. John had by pure coincidence bought Number Four while the eccentric developer was still building it, along with the rest of his eccentrically named subdivision outside of Ashford. Since John insisted that outside shoes never be worn inside of his home, he had the Japanese style shoe removal and house-slipper donning areas put into both the front and rear doors of his house. John, Pet, and any houseguests wore house slippers, while the kids all went barefooted.

Petunia said, “Welcome home, John, and why did you bring the Aurors from Lily’s wedding along?”

John replied, “We’ll get to Frank and Alice Longbottom soon enough, and I met them at Vauxhall; they gave me a quick lift to Ashford. Alice is Harry’s Godmother, in case Lily didn’t think to tell you. How was your day?”

Pet paused before answering, “Mostly boring other than the wizards going nuts according to the news on the telly. David sang the Rosary in Latin while vesting up for Mass, and the rest of the kids sang along. Poor Father Smythe was truly chuffed, but it left him so nervous that he barely got the Homily out at all. Otherwise, just the usual madhouse. Michael is just finishing up supper, and he made enough so we can feed the Aurors too. But why are they here?” she finished more nervously.

John told her, and the rest of the family who had joined them as the went into the lounge, “There’s no nice way to say it. Somehow, the Fake Frenchy Terrorist broke Lily’s Fidelius Charm and attacked them in their home. Neither James nor Lily had their wands on them, so the Terrorist made quick work of them; and our unborn niece, too. But Lily set some kind of booby-trap on Harry. So, when the Terrorist tried killing Harry, the spell backfired and vaporized the Terrorist, leaving only his wand and clothes behind. Harry only got a cut on the forehead out of the deal, along with the ridiculous nickname of ‘The Boy Who Lived.’

“Dumbledore took Harry to Hogwarts for medical treatment rather than risk one of the Terrorist’s minions trying to get revenge at St. Mungo’s Hospital in London, and because his School Healer is actually one of the best Wizard Pediatricians in all of Europe. Dumbledore told Alice that we would be getting custody of Harry instead of Sirius or Frank and her, which is great by me.

“The way I see it, we’ve got thirteen kids counting the one inside you now, and other than James and Lily being dead in the first place, I can’t wait to see Harry again. Frank and Alice, I want the two of you to keep visiting, since you know where we live, and bring little Harry’s godbrother with you, too.

“As far as Frank and Alice know, Harry should be fine, but I’m wondering why the old bastard hasn’t at least phoned us yet. It’s not like he doesn’t know how to use a payphone, and he could get our phone number from the Embassy easily enough if he doesn’t already have it, seeing that he’s also Speaker of the Wizarding Parliament.”

Frank replied, “Maybe Dumbledore wanted to bring the news in person, after bundling Harry up to bring to Petunia and you.”

Petunia replied, “I’d hope Alice and you would call me ‘Pet’ among friends, Frank. And it’s not like I’d block Alice and you from visiting, either; though with both Sirius Black and the two of you being magical, and Lily keeping our reconciliation nearly secret from everyone, I’m surprised I’m even being considered to raise my nephew without a custody battle. Sirius and you both swore the magical Godparent oaths, didn’t you Alice?”

To Alice’s nod of yes, Petunia continued, “As for Harry, as you yourself would remind me otherwise, maybe Dumbledore and his Healer are making sure that either Harry wasn’t also concussed, or that they get the magical healing for that done before bringing Harry to us. Even without the terrorist gang attacks, I’m told that St. Mungo’s isn’t always the friendliest place for Muggles, even if they’re bringing in a Wizarding child. Though the bastard could have stopped by and explained that to us, even without bringing Harry to us right away.”

As the group moved into the dining room to eat a somber supper, John opined, “Just so long as he shows up soon with Harry, or at least an explanation. As things were, if I hadn’t run into Frank and Alice, we’d have driven from Surry to Gloucestershire only to find a crime scene and no one there willing to give us any answers.”

Paul couldn't quite follow the grownups' conversation other than knowing it was not a happy one. He asked worriedly, "Will I see Harry, Daddy?"

John told the boy, "Soon, Paul."

The Dvoraks and the two Longbottoms enjoyed a delicious yet somber meal and shared memories of James and Lily Potter on into the night.

§§§

Meanwhile, the “cat with the map” was still sitting stiffly, alternating her attentive watch between the Dursleys at Number Eight and the Dvoraks at Number Four. It watched still as a statue even while the routine noises of a London exurb happened around it.

The cat finally moved almost at the stroke of midnight as an older man suddenly and silently appeared at the corner of the street the cat had been watching all day. The cat’s tail twitched as its eyes narrowed.

Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive, and in the normal course of events, such a man would never be seen there. But these were not normal times. He was tall, thin, and appeared to be very old even while still being healthy and reasonably fit. His silver hair and beard were both long enough to easily tuck into his belt. He wore long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled buckled boots, which were more than a little superfluous since he was taller than average even in bare feet. His long nose was crooked, appearing to have been broken at least twice, and his blue eyes were clear, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles. This man was the “Dumbledore” the Dvoraks had mentioned repeatedly earlier in the evening; or more correctly Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Chief Warlock of the UK Wizengamot, and various other titles.

If Dumbledore had realized that he was on a street where everything about him would be generally unwelcome, he did a superb job of ignoring that circumstance. While he busily rummaged through the pockets of his cloak looking for something he needed, he realized that the cat was watching him now. He chuckled quietly to himself, “I should have known.”

Finding what he was looking for, he took it out of his pocket. While it appeared to be a finer cigarette lighter, lighting cigarettes was not what Dumbledore had created the magical device to do. Instead, when he worked the action of the lighter, the lighter unlighted the streetlights along Privet Drive, leaving only the porch light on Number Four illuminated. He pocketed his Deluminator while he walked down Privet Drive and sat down on the stone wall between Number Five and Number Seven next to the cat. He didn’t look at it, but after a moment, he opined, “Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall.”

He turned to smile at the tabby even as it turned into the rather severe-looking woman who had been and continued to be his Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts. She wore square-lensed glasses which matched the square markings around her eyes as a cat. He black hair was tied in a tight bun at the back of her head and only hinted at starting to gray. Like Dumbledore, she was also wearing robes, under an emerald coloured cloak.

She looked distinctly ruffled as she asked her boss, “How did you know it was me?”

“My dear Professor, I’ve never seen a cat sit so stiffly.”

“You’d be stiff as well if you’d been sitting on a brick wall all day watching these Muggles.

“First, the ‘Petunia Dursley’ at Number Eight is not and never has been Petunia Evans; so Lily was protecting Petunia somehow.

“Second, it’s a damned good job Petunia Dursley isn’t our Petunia. Both Dursleys, Mister Dursley’s elephantine masculine sister, and their spoiled-rotten fat monster child are the worst Muggles I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet. I wouldn’t house Lucius Malfoy’s get with them, much less Harry Potter.

“Third, while our Petunia at Number Four actually seems to be a decent sort now, she has ten kids from her husband’s earlier life, plus her wizard toddler son already. While they’ve got enough money for all that, we’d be better off having Harry living with Arthur and Molly Weasley. They’ve only got seven kids, not eleven.”

Dumbledore asked, “Why haven’t you at least stopped by one of the celebrations through the day. I myself have passed at least a dozen feasts and parties on the way here.”

“I would celebrate more reluctantly than I would accuse you of doing, Professor Dumbledore. Lily was one of my favorite students, and even with his behavior problems as a student; I enjoyed James Potter’s company. I was even thinking about having James apprentice with me since married life had finally persuaded him to grow up.

“And you’d think that at least they’d be more careful in celebrating. You-Know-Who is dead, and that’s a relief! But Filibuster Fireworks and Owl Post in the middle of the day? It’s all over the Muggle news! We’ll all be lucky if the Statute of Secrecy isn’t blown out of the water by the end of the week!”

Changing subjects slightly, Professor Dumbledore asked, “Surely a sensible person like you can call him by his name? All this ‘You Know Who’ nonsense for eleven years…”

Uncharacteristically, Professor McGonagall retorted, “I’d sooner call him by his real-real name—Tom Marvolo Riddle. Never mind he could get the Taboo to work on his made up name of ‘Lord Voldemort’ only half the time or so. When it worked, he and his Death Eaters would be on your doorstep more quickly than you could draw your wand! And even Tom’s minions are no slouch in a life-or-death duel. Tom might have rightly feared you, Professor Dumbledore, but the rest of us rightly feared him, even those of us with the courage to fight back.”

“You flatter me” Dumbledore replied calmly. “Voldemort had powers I will never have.”

Professor McGonagall retorted, “Only because you’re too – well – noble to use them.”

“I’m lucky it’s dark” Dumbledore opined. “I haven’t blushed so much since Madame Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs.”

After a short pause, Professor McGonagall asked, “Are you still going to have Petunia take custody of Harry? Before today, I thought Petunia would hate her nephew. Now, I fear she might misplace her nephew with all the other children underfoot.”

Professor Dumbledore solemnly replied, “What you’ve seen only makes me more certain that Harry should grow up with his aunt. Our fellows in the Wizarding world are already calling Harry ‘The Boy Who Lived.’ Growing up in a Wizarding home hearing that all the time would be certain to turn the boy’s head, to turn any boy’s head. It’s better off he grow up outside of the Wizarding world and all of that undeserved fame until it’s time for him to attend Hogwarts. Lemon Drop?”

While Professor McGonagall politely declined, they both heard the sound of a motorcycle coming from above them.

Dumbledore remarked, “That should be Hagrid now. I had him fetch Harry from the Potters once the alarm I set went off. I also told him to collect Harry from Madam Pomfrey and bring him here tonight.”

Dumbledore further stated, “I’ve included everything Petunia needs to know in a letter, and I’ll leave the letter with Harry on their doorstep. With the love Lily showed for her son in sacrificing her life for him, and with Petunia being Lily’s sister, I’ll be able to place powerful wards over their home that will protect Harry from any wizard who would do Harry harm. If Petunia actually loves Harry, the wards will be even stronger...”

Cl-Click!

“Or, you can keep your hands well away from your wands, come into my home willingly and peaceably, and explain in person your plans for my nephew. Harry will be welcome, protected, and loved in Petunia’s and my home; but I won’t have a pair of daft geezers leaving him on my porch like a bottle of milk in the middle of the night, in November. Where is Harry?”

Dumbledore answered the voice of John Dvorak, “I don’t know who you are. But my groundskeeper Rubeus Hagrid is bringing Harry now on a borrowed motorbike.”

“Did Sirius Black willingly loan Mister Hagrid his flying motorcycle?” John asked as the engine noise from the flying motorcycle grew even louder.

Dumbledore calmly answered, “As far as I know, yes; though I wasn’t there. Other than believing you Petunia Evans’s husband, I don’t know who you are?”

After a short pause, he replied, “John Dvorak. Petunia and I married two years ago last September First. I’m guessing that Lily wasn’t very outspoken about Petunia and her starting to reconcile? And on that basis, why in the world would you place Harry under her care? While Sirius Black might not be mature enough to be a single parent, Alice and Frank Longbottom don’t have that problem, and have a son only hours older than Harry. If Pet was still the woman your knowledge suggested she might be, you were sending Harry into a near-abusive household at best.”

Before Dumbledore could answer, Rubeus Hagrid landed the flying motorcycle, shut the engine off, and dismounted. He was the only person on the street larger than John Dvorak, and he had to be a half-giant to do it. Hagrid stood around twelve feet tall, and was of a stocky build. He had shoulder length black hair, a mustache and full sternum length thick beard, and dark eyes.

Dumbledore stated in relief, “Hagrid, at last. No problems, were there?”

“None, Professor Dumbledore, sir” Hagrid answered. “Easier than last night, actually. Young Sirius Black loaned me his motorbike when I went to get 'arry, an' 'e told me to keep it ‘til he got it back. I got ‘arry to Madam Pomfrey and you last night, and she passed on for me to bring him here to you now. Little tike fell asleep over Bristol, ‘e’s been good as gold the whole time. But who’s the Muggle wi' ta shotgun behind ye?”

John replied, “It’s John Dvorak, Hagrid; James, Lily, Sirius, and Remus told me all about you. The shotgun is just a misunderstanding on my part.

“If you want, you can hand Harry to Professor McGonagall or Professor Dumbledore and walk Sirius’s motorbike to the driveway of my home; it’s the only one with the lights still on right now. I don’t want to wake the neighbors needlessly with the noise from it. We’ve only just met so I can wait to hold my nephew ‘till you know he is my nephew. We need to have a conversation, and we don’t need to have it in the middle of the street for the entertainment of the neighbors.”

At Dumbledore’s nod, the group of people retired to Number Four Privet Drive to discuss Harry Potter’s upbringing and future home life. As they walked, with Hagrid walking the motorcycle and Professor McGonagall carrying Harry, John asked, “Professor Dumbledore, you mentioned ‘powerful wards’ right before I interrupted you. Are you talking about blood wards? If so, are these wards portable? And how much of Petunia’s blood were you going to try to get?”

Professor Dumbledore replied, “I’m surprised that you know or can reliably guess so much about magic, seeing that you aren’t a wizard. I do plan on placing blood wards on your property, but they will use Lily’s blood, and not Petunia’s directly. With Petunia being Lily’s sister, she need only ‘take responsibility’ to raise Harry for the blood wards to work. And, sadly, they are not portable wards per se, and I’ll only be able to place the wards once, since Lily is dead, and only had so much blood in her.”

After a short pause, John opined, “It’s just as well that magic and hemomancy don’t bother me. I will need you to speak to both the MaCUSA and United States Ambassadors, and this US Ambassador is knowledgeable about the Wizarding world. I ask that you convince them to have my posting here extended until Harry is an adult, at least a Wizarding one. While I can resign from the State Department and live well financially without a job, or get a job on the Muggle economy here if I need to, I don’t want to. I also believe that Harry’s best interests will be served with the admittedly small legal protections I can provide with him being in a diplomat’s family instead of not. I am well regarded enough that my superiors might listen to me and keep me in London for far longer than a typical posting if I ask them. As the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, they will listen to you.”

As they approached Number Four, Professor Dumbledore remarked, “I’ll speak to them in the next day or two. You seem to be taking all of this well-in-stride, Mr. Dvorak.”

John answered, “I am a warrior among many other things Professor Dumbledore; Hagrid, Professor McGonagall, and you may call me ‘John.’ As a warrior, even a retired one, I’m well-used to putting my emotions to the side when needed, and grieving only when it’s safe for those under my protection for me to do so. I only learned about James and Lily’s deaths a few short hours ago, and I am quite saddened at their loss, even for the somewhat short time I’ve known them.

“But I need to comfort all of my family; including my wife who has lost her only sister after just getting her ‘back’ for the first time since infancy, and my nephew who has just found himself orphaned at the age of fifteen months.”

The unique group of people entered Number Four after Hagrid parked Sirius’s motorcycle in John’s driveway. Coming into the light and the noise of the already well populated house caused Harry to wake up.

Harry recognized both his Aunt Petunia and Uncle John. He started to fuss and reach towards Petunia, so Professor McGonagall passed the child over to his aunt. He worriedly told Pet, “Mummy won’t wake. Dirty-hair-man who hugged Mummy and cried couldn’t wake her.”

John Dvorak filed that away in the back of his mind even while Petunia held her nephew, crying tears of both loss and relief, and even while the rest of the Dvoraks and Longbottoms worked to figure out where Harry would sleep for the next day or two. They finally decided that Harry and Dudley would just share the same cot, since it was big enough and both boys got along okay.

The Dvoraks also ended up getting Neville Longbottom, Frank and Alice’s fifteen-month-old son as a houseguest so that Herbert and Augusta Longbottom, Frank’s parents, could get a few days break from babysitting for their long-working Auror son and daughter in law. With the third magical fifteen month toddler added, the enlargement charm on the cot was also added, until John bought two more cots later that week. Paul also added himself to the cot with the three toddlers, saying, "Dudley, Harry, Neville; welcome home."

This break ended up lasting almost six months, since Frank and Alice were tortured into insanity by three of Voldemort’s minions just two days later, and both Herbert and Augusta Longbottom were injured while helping rescue their grievously tortured and wounded adult children.

Finally, with Augusta (who brought Neville,) Frank, Alice, Hagrid, and Professor McGonagall gone, and all the children in bed sleeping, Professor Dumbledore, John, and Pet were alone in the lounge drinking a final cup of tea.

Professor Dumbledore asked, “Will you be willing to raise Harry outside of the Wizarding world until it’s time for him to attend Hogwarts?”

After John and Pet looked at each other, John stated, “Not quite. Harry will go to an ‘ordinary’ school until it’s time for him to go to Hogwarts, just like Dudley. But he will know both worlds before then. He will grow up knowing his godparents, Neville, and perhaps other Wizarding boys his age along with non-magical ones; Dudley will grow up the same way.

“And no, I won’t let the ‘Boy Who Lived’ stuff go to his head. We all know that it was Lily who did whatever was done, not only to protect Harry, but to take the Terrorist all the way out. He will appreciate his birth parents, but he won’t be ‘big-headed’ about them, or anything else. Rest assured that I will also ‘protect’ him from his ‘unearned celebrity’ as much as I can. Harry wouldn’t appreciate being mobbed as a child for any reason, especially not for one he didn’t actually do anything to earn.”

Changing subjects, John remarked, “With the way you’re acting, I’m guessing that you think the Terrorist is still around, somehow.”

Dumbledore replied, “I have my suspicions, John, and I want to lay them to rest. But I’m not convinced that Voldemort is gone for good, even if he personally dangerous right now. Voldemort also had a number of followers. At least some of them will likely avoid prosecution, and the blood wards will also protect Harry from them.”

John asked, “What about werewolves? I want anyone like Fenrir Greyback kept well away all the time. But Remus Lupin is a friend of the family, and I don’t want him blocked from visiting just because of a disease he had no control over getting and has made every reasonable effort to prevent from spreading.”

Professor Dumbledore assured John and Petunia, “I’ll be able to key Remus into the wards if that’s what the both of you want.”

Pet opined, “We definitely want that, Professor Dumbledore. I’m personally nervous about Remus, but that’s just residual fear and prejudice about his disease. David, our eleven-year-old, would take it almost as a personal insult if ‘Uncle Remus’ weren’t allowed to visit. I myself enjoy the man’s company. He was one of Lily’s closest friends from school, and the stories and affections of her friends are all I have left of her now.”

John stood to see Professor Dumbledore out, since it was now quite early in the morning, and he wanted to get at least some sleep. As they walked toward the genkan, he told Professor Dumbledore, “We’ll also need at least some help with seeing to James and Lily’s funerals and so on. While I trust Sirius, I’m not at all sure how he’s taking the loss, especially with him not getting custody of Harry. I’m guessing that at least some of what needs to be done won’t wait until Sirius has rode out his own grief. Will you be able to help us?”

As they walked out onto John’s front porch, Professor Dumbledore assured him, “I’ll do my best to get things taken care of, and involve Petunia and you as well since that’s what you want.”

John replied, “Thank you. Unless James and Lily left a will that says otherwise, everything of theirs should pass on to Harry. I want that placed into trust for him, but I also want the trust managed so that Harry’s liquid assets will grow, and that any property he inherits is held in trust until Harry himself can decide what to do with it. I wouldn’t dream of taking even the smallest some of money from Harry to raise him. But he will be provided for at least as well as Fleamont and Euphemia Potter provided for James.”

Dumbledore smiled and nodded, saying, “I’m glad to hear that, John. Do you want someone to collect Sirius’s motorbike from your driveway in the morning?”

John replied, “It’s Sirius’s motorcycle. If Hagrid still needs to use it, have him check with me first before collecting it after dark tomorrow. This is not an obviously magical neighborhood, and the Obliviators are already working hard enough as it is. If Sirius himself comes for it, it’s his bike, and we know each other. Otherwise, I’ll just push it into the garage in the mean time. I’ve ridden it once or twice as a Muggle motorcycle. Beyond the charms, it’s just a 1959 Triumph Bonneville with a sidecar, and the neighbors would just assume that I bought or borrowed it. Because of my leg, I can’t easily shift just any bike. I can easily shift Sirius’s bike and work the brakes on it, though.”

Dumbledore finished with, “That should work. I doubt Hagrid will have further need of it, and I’ll send Sirius your way.” Dumbledore discretely put the light back into the streetlights before walking down the street towards Wisteria walk. He walked into a shadow and with the faintest of cracks did not come back out.

§§§

Dumbledore got the wards cast and erected on Number Four the next night. He also made a few calls so that the United States State Department willingly kept John Dvorak posted in London for two decades or so longer than they had otherwise planned. With Dumbledore’s help, John and Petunia saw to James and Lily’s burial. They also stopped the Ministry of Magic from confiscating Harry’s house and turning it into a war memorial. Instead, John had the house repaired and able to be rented out, putting it in trust in Harry’s name.

Sirius Black was arrested for murdering Peter Pettigrew and twelve Muggle bystanders, as well as for betraying the Potters. Black was immediately sentenced to life in Azkaban Prison without a trial, despite John’s protests to the contrary. Petunia gave birth to Lily Rose Dvorak on February fifteenth of 1982 along with three more boys as the years passed. John and Pet also ended up adopting two more of John’s underage relatives to finish raising to adulthood. Life moved on as life often does until the summer of 1991.
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The Yankees Nephew and the Philosophers Stone