2. Packing up

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I'd barely shut my bedroom door when I heard a voice roar "BOY! GIRL! GET DOWN HERE!"

Rolling my eyes, exasperated, I knocked on Harry's door. "Brother, we have yet another meeting with the crazy relatives, hurry it up would you?"

When he didnt' respond I flung the door open, to find him staring into a shard of glass. After Sirius' death, I had given the shard back to Harry for him to keep, comfort him somehow.

"Did you hear me?" I demanded, and rubbed at my forehead when I realised how harsh I sounded. "Sorry, sorry, just—-stressed."

"S'fine, I'm the same." Harry chuckled, shoving the glass into his equally full rucksack. "For a second I swore I saw Dumbledore's eye in the glass, I know, stupid, right?"

"Not really." I said thoughtfully. "For half a second I swore I saw Sam outside my window last week... But it was just the window cleaner."

"BOY! GIRL! HURRY IT UP!" Uncle Vernon screamed, and we collectivley rolled our eyes and headed down the stairs.

We slid through the living room door, to find all three Dursley's huddled around their drape covered furniture. They were dressed for leaving—Aunt Petunia in a nice enough dress and Dudley in a large leather jacket.

"You took your time!" Uncle Vernon huffed, shutting the door behind us. "I want a word?"

"It's not goodbye, is it?" I said hopefully, and Harry kicked my shoe.

"I've changed my mind." Uncle Vernon said decisivley.

Harry and I gave each other a look which said Here we go again.  For almost every twenty four hours, Uncle Vernon would decide they weren't leaving at all, and would unpack all his belongings.

"According to you both," Uncle Vernon said, pacing the living room. "We—Petunia, Dudley and I, are in danger from—"

"Some of 'our lot', yeah." Harry said, irritated.

"Well I don't believe it," repeated Uncle Vernon, coming to a halt in front of Harry again. "I was lying awake half the night thinking it all over, and I believe it's a plot to get the house."

"The house?" repeated Harry. "What house?"

"This house!" shrieked Uncle Vernon, the vein his forehead starting to pulse. "Our house! House prices are skyrocketing around here! You want us out of the way and then you're going to do a bit of hocus pocus and before we know it the deeds will be in your names—"

"Hey, we'd only do that for a decent house with an attached pool." I scoffed. "In case you forgot our godfather left us a house, why would we want this old thing? Harry wouldn't want it for the happy memories, in any case."

There was silence. I was certain I'd won this argument, impressive considering it was on the spot.

"You both claim," said Uncle Vernon, starting to pace yet again, "that this Lord Thing—"

"—Voldemort," said Harry impatiently, "and we've been through this about a hundred times already. This isn't a claim, it's fact. Dumbledore told you last year. There's a protective charm which keeps the both of us safe—well technically it's just my protection but that's another story—"

I felt an ache in my heart remembering that my initial protection was from the Oswin's, broken when Jenna died and I no longer called Oxford a home.

"Anyway, it breaks on our seventeenth birthday, and it exposes us all. The Order thinks that Voldemort will target you all, torture you for information or holding you hostage so we'll rescue you. That almost happened with my little sister."

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