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“Pen, do you have a moment?” That Sylvia didn’t have to look up to catch Pen before she left for the day was one of the more irritating—and spooky—traits the woman had.
Penelope bit back a sigh and turned back to her boss. “Sure. What do you need?”
“Amaryllis and Allium,” Sylvia said, her mouth twisting as she spoke. “God only knows what their parents were thinking. Have you located relatives?”
“I found their grandmother,” Penelope said, “but she should be a last resort.”
“Why?”
“She’s in council housing and in danger of losing it.”
“Drugs?”
“If only. She has a habit of yelling at children and calling them freaks. She’s particularly fond of accusing them of being criminals in training. The local mothers are voicing strong objections.”
“They would,” Sylvia murmured.
“I spoke to the council ombudsman—woman by the name of Michelle Taylor,” Penelope said. She dropped into the chair in front of Sylvia’s desk, deciding on the spot that Frank could wait. Not that he’d notice anyway, not with the Reds on the telly, and never mind that it was an old match. In Frank’s words, surely she understood that he had to show his support at all times and in all ways. Penelope didn’t, but she loved the daft bugger and supposed she could tolerate him for another year. “Mrs. Taylor told me Mrs. Dursley is on behavioral notice.”
“Would they actually evict her?”
“They will, but it will be to adults-only housing.” Penelope hesitated then added, “There’s some question of early dementia, but they haven’t enough evidence to section her, and she won’t consent to an interview.”
“Hence, a last resort,” Sylvia said with a sigh. “Right then. What about other family?”
“Oh! Knew I meant to tell you something else,” Penelope said. She hefted her satchel onto her lap to open it with a long-practiced move, and she rooted around until she found her notebook. “Mrs. Taylor told me that Mrs. Dursley was from—hold on—yeah. From Little Whinging in Surrey. I’ve a call into the local police and school to see if there’s anyone else. Should hear back on Monday.”
“All right. Better than nothing, I suppose.” Sylvia sat back in her chair and said, “And how are young Amaryllis and Allium Dursley doing in care?”
“Amy and Al, now. One of the other kids got hold of them right after they arrived and warned them to go by nicknames instead. They took the lad’s words to heart,” Penelope said. “When I saw them this morning, they were quiet. Hadn’t seen their grief counselor yet, but they went in just before I left.”
“Have they said anything about their parents?”
“No. The police asked about interviewing them, apparently, but you know what David is like.”
“Complete arsehole to anyone who isn’t a child,” Sylvia said with a wan smile. “We could do with more like him.”
“You’ve my wholehearted agreement on that.” Penelope paused and then said, “I asked if they had any other family, but they just stared at me with their tragic green eyes.”
“Tragic green eyes? When did you last go on holiday?”
“Never you mind,” Penelope said, vaguely embarrassed. She rarely took note of whether a child was particularly attractive, but the twins did have the loveliest eye color. “David hasn’t heard them talk about other relatives, but he promised to keep an ear out in case they mention anyone.”
“Right.” Sylvia shook her head and said, “Right then. Off you go. I’m sure your young man is waiting for you.”
“You do know there’s only five years between you and me, don’t you?” Penelope closed her satchel and stood up. “I’m fairly certain you shouldn’t be talking to me like you’re an elderly relative.”
“It’s the job,” Sylvia said. “Makes me feel a hundred years old most days.”
“Then perhaps you should take your advice and get out of here to visit your young man.”
“He left me three months ago,” she answered.
“Oh, hell. I had no idea,” Penelope said, and she hadn’t. Sylvia was an expert at hiding herself, and there’d been no hint of trouble at home.
“No reason you should. It was a long time coming, and frankly, I’m in better shape on my own. Now get out of here. I’ll see you on Monday.”
Penelope hesitated before nodding and answering, “Monday, then.”
***
Saturday afternoon should have been spent getting ready for her sister’s hen night, but instead, Penelope ended up at Strawberry Field just as an ambulance was leaving. She found David talking to someone with an officious air and waited long enough for him to catch sight of her before she backed away. She had no desire to get caught up in a discussion that would likely raise her blood pressure higher than it already was.
“Pen!”
She waited for David to join her, and when he did, she asked, “What happened? Was it the Stockwell boy?”
“Yeah, but not the way you’re thinking,” he said, catching her elbow to walk them away from everyone else.
“I don’t understand.”
“Rupert started it,” he said. “He was being an absolute git to Amy and Al.”
“His usual charming self, in other words,” Penelope said. Six months ago, she’d have been nothing but sympathetic to Rupert Stockwell, but that was then, and he’d long since burned through what sympathy she had left.
“He’s a bully, no question, but this may have been enough to convince him to go on the straight and narrow.”
“You’re making no sense,” Penelope said, her patience wearing thin. “If he’s sent one or both of the twins to hospital, then he’s going to face prosecution.”
“I said he started it, not that he finished it,” David said, clearly uncomfortable, and that was enough to make Penelope stop short, because David was never uncomfortable. He took each day as it came and didn’t get fussed.
“You’re starting to scare me,” she said.
“It’s hard to explain.”
“Who went to hospital?” Penelope started to feel sick to her stomach.
“No one,” David said. “They were here because Rupert fell out of a tree.”
Penelope blinked. “Rupert was in a tree?”
“Yeah.”
“Has he lost three stone since last I saw him?” Rupert was not a small boy. The staff at Strawberry Field had taken to feeding him away from the other children, because he tended toward food theft and hoarding.
“No. Might have gained a few pounds, but no weight loss.”
“Then how did he end up in a tree?” she asked.
“That’s the question of the day. The children who saw the argument said one moment Amy was scolding Rupert, and the next, he was in the tree, and Amy and Al were walking off. I think Rupert fell more out of surprise than anything else.” David shook his head. “Doesn’t make any sense.”
“Have you talked to the twins?”
“They both of them said they’d no idea what happened, and then Amy told me that Rupert was naughty and shouldn’t be allowed to stay here anymore.”
“Why am I here?” she asked, her voice tight.
“I’m sorry, Pen, but you’re going to have to get emergency housing for Rupert, preferably with a family, so he can get individual attention,” he said, looking genuinely apologetic and frustrated.
“On a Saturday afternoon? David!”
“The incident broke the silence. The other children are reporting bullying and threats if they don’t bring him extra food. He’s a threat to the wider population, and I can’t keep him.”
Penelope uttered a few choice words and said, “Fine. But you’re not my favorite anymore.”
“Didn’t think I would be,” he said. “Mary’s helping him pack his things. They should be down shortly.”
Penelope was already pulling out her address book to see if there was a chance of finding appropriate housing for Rupert before Gwen’s party started.
***
Monday morning found Penelope and Rupert in the office at a ridiculously early hour. His emergency housing had ended as soon as he’d started throwing food the night before, and he’d been with Penelope since then.
Sylvia took them in at a glance and said, “Stevens Hall.”
Both Rupert and Penelope looked up with dismay. “But—”
“No buts. Rupert, you were told the consequences of your behavior any number of times. I know, because I sat in on at least half those meetings,” Sylvia said, her voice flat and face flatter. “Perhaps Stevens Hall will finally make a dent in that thick skull of yours and convince you to start thinking about your future.”
Rupert burst into tears and started promising to be on his best behavior, and it was only because his parents didn’t love him that he acted out like this, and it was only because he’d been starving when taken into care that he stole food, and ...
“And of course no one understands you,” Sylvia said, stopping the flow of words. “Stevens Hall. Have them send someone to pick him up. Then come to my office when one of the others gets in and can sit with him.”
Penelope nodded, even as she dialed Stevens Hall. It wasn’t that it was a hell hole, because it wasn’t. It was a lovely, state-of-the-art facility that catered to children who couldn’t be placed in a residential facility or a private home due to behavioral issues. Rupert wouldn’t be abused, but he would be subjected to a much greater degree of discipline than he was used to. Penelope couldn’t decide whether to grieve or be relieved, because Stevens Hall would start treating him as an adult, and never mind that he was only thirteen years old.
Rupert, once he realized his tears afforded him nothing, shrugged and went back to staring out the window.
It was another half hour before anyone else came in, and they brought the intake coordinator from Stevens Hall with them. “George Bartley,” he said. “Here to pick up Rupert Stockwell.”
Penelope handed off the child and his file, and then went to Sylvia’s office.
“There was an incident over the weekend,” she said.
“I know,” Sylvia answered. “David called after you left with Rupert. I let Stevens Hall know on Saturday they’d be getting him today.”
“How? No, I mean really, how? I’d put him with the Harrisons, and they’ve more patience than anyone.”
“I know Rupert,” she said. “I’ve known him since he was five years old and helping his parents run cons.”
“What?” Penelope sat down hard.
“Don’t worry about it,” Sylvia said. “Tell me how Amy and Al are.”
“I haven’t seen them since Friday morning. But about Rup—”
“Go there now,” Sylvia interrupted. “I’ve had a call from London about the twins. More family has been located, and he’s sending his mother-in-law to pick them up.”
“Why not him? Is he too busy?”
Sylvia raised an eyebrow. “Yes, actually. And Her Majesty offers her apologies for the request to break protocol.”
“You’re having me on,” Penelope said.
“Wish I were. And here are your words of wisdom for the day: if you get a call on a Sunday night purporting to be from the Queen of England, you’re best off going along with it instead of calling the woman Bess and asking if she wants to meet for a pint some time.”
“You didn’t.” Penelope wasn’t a royalist by any measure, but even she had to admit that Queen Elizabeth at least tried to make things better.
“Wish I could say I hadn’t, but there you go. That’s me told by the universe.” Sylvia shook her head and continued, “Either way, the mother-in-law will meet you at Strawberry Field.”
“What are the names?”
“The family member is Harry Potter. He’s a first cousin to the twins’ father. The mother-in-law is Molly Weasley. I’m assured that she’s just the one to help the twins through a trying time and will be with her daughter until Mr. Potter can take formal custody.”
“And when will that be?”
“Per Her Majesty, Mr. Potter should be home in another ten days or so.”
“What kind of family are they going to? Do you know?” Penelope didn’t usually get so tense about children, but given the way their mother had died and what they’d had to deal with so far at Strawberry Field, she felt protective and out of sorts.
“Mr. and Mrs. Potter have two boys, age four and two, so the twins should fit in.”
“And they’re taking them without a fuss?”
“Yes,” Sylvia said. “You should really go talk to the twins as soon as possible. I was told she’d be there by ten o’clock to pick them up.”
Penelope nodded. “You’ve told David?”
“He was my first call last night.” Sylvia shooed her out, and Penelope stopped long enough to put on her coat and grab her satchel.
***
Penelope arrived at nine o’clock, and just as she signed in, an older woman with a mop of red hair going to gray walked into the office and peered around. “I’m looking for a Mr. Lewis. Is he in?”
James, the intern managing the visitor’s sign-in, asked, “Do you have an appointment?”
“An appointment? Don’t know about that, but I’m here to pick up my grandchildren. Amaryllis and Allium Potter. Dursley. Well. Potter soon enough, no doubt.”
James was generally unflappable, but even he had to take a moment before asking, “Your name?”
“Of course, what am I thinking? Molly Weasley. I’m Harry Potter’s mother-in-law. He’s the twins’ cousin.”
Penelope studied her as she dug around in her handbag to find the identification James requested in response. She was plump and cheerful, and Penelope thought the woman had never said a cross word in her life.
As James took Mrs. Weasley’s identification card to copy, Penelope said, “I’m Penelope Stewart, the social worker assigned to the Dursley children.”
“I’ve a daughter-in-law named Penelope. Percy’s wife. Lovely woman, but I’m afraid she’s just as stiff and formal as Percy. No matter. Their children are living up to the Weasley name. Take after their Uncles George and Fred.” After a moment of hesitation, she corrected herself, saying, “George. We lost poor Fred in the war.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Penelope said, finding herself liking the woman and hoping she could help the twins. Then she said, “I understand that Mr. Potter couldn’t come as a matter of national security, but I’m curious as to why your daughter couldn’t come.”
“Ginny’s a bit too far along for app—appointments this distance from home.”
“She’s pregnant, then?”
“Oh yes,” Mrs. Weasley said, her pleasure evident. “The healer thinks it’s a girl this time.”
“Right, they have two children already, don’t they?” Penelope asked, ignoring “healer” for the moment.
“They do. Two boys. And with the twins, they’ll all be stair steps,” Mrs. Weasley said. It was clear she doted on her grandchildren.
“And you don’t think it will be too much, going from two children to five in such a short time?”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Weasley said, looking a bit offended. “Ginny and Harry live near us, and I’ll be there anyway, helping with the boys and the baby. Two more can hardly cause a blip.”
“Two more who have suffered a tremendous shock with the loss of their mother, and their father in jail.”
Mrs. Weasley’s mouth pinched up, and all cheer departed. “I met Dudley Dursley once.”
“And what did you think of him,” Penelope asked carefully. The police still wanted to interview the children about what happened, though they were half-hearted about it at best.
“I thought it was a terrible thing what his mother had done to him. Still do, for that matter.” Mrs. Weasley shook her head, adding, “The woman never told that boy no, not for anything. Do you have any idea how easy it is to break a child that way?”
Penelope agreed and held hope for the twins. “Still, the question remains. Will Mr. and Mrs. Potter be able to give them the attention they need?”
Mrs. Weasley gave her a long look then said, “I like you. You’ve got your priorities straight. Those children are going into a loving home and a loving family with aunts and uncles and cousins to spare. More importantly, though, is that Harry, more than anyone, will be able to understand them.”
Penelope frowned at that. “Why should Mr. Potter be so understanding?”
“Well, he was raised with Dudley, wasn’t he? Petunia and that whale of a husband of hers had custody of Harry after his parents were murdered. He knows what an orphan needs, because he knows what he needed.”
“Are you saying that Mrs. Dursley raised him well?”
“I’m saying that Petunia Dursley never had a kind thought for Harry in her life. He became a good man despite her, not because of her. Never you mind, though. He’s a good father to his boys, and he’ll be a good father to the twins, no matter that they’re Dudley’s children,” Mrs. Weasley said.
“Did Mr. Potter not get along with his cousin?”
“Dudley was a massive bully, the way his parents raised him to be. Even so, I know Harry has tried to keep in touch with him over the years. I thought they were starting to reconcile, but of course, no hope of that now,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Pity, that. Harry doesn’t have much left of his mother’s family and nothing at all of his father’s.”
That, more than anything else, reassured Penelope as to the home situation the twins were going into. She looked up and saw David standing there. No telling how long. “I need to talk to Amy and Al. Do you know where they are?”
David nodded and said, “They’re in Mrs. Candle’s room, waiting for you. Mrs. Weasley? If you could come with me, I have a few more questions to ask. Miss Stewart will bring the children along.”
“Just a moment, David,” Penelope said. “Mrs. Weasley, the local police are interested in interviewing the children as soon as they’re up to it.”
“The police? Whatever for?”
“They were in the house when Mr. Dursley attacked their mother. I’ve been putting them off, but it’s likely they’ll want your contact information so they can meet with them at a later date.”
“Absolutely not,” she said, bristling with outrage. “If they have questions, they can send them along, and Harry can ask them.”
“Mrs. Weasley, I don’t think they’ll—”
“Harry can ask the questions if he thinks they’re appropriate.”
Penelope opened her mouth and then closed it when she saw the expression on David’s face. Clearly, he wasn’t going to come in on the side of law and order. If anything, he looked like he was about to ask if Mrs. Weasley might not like a job at the facility. She sighed and said, “I’m off to talk to the children.”
***
In the end, it hadn’t taken very long. The twins still hadn’t opened up to anyone, and Penelope could only hope that a few days with family would help. She ushered them into David’s office, and said, “Amy and Al, I’d like you to meet—”
“Your Granny Molly,” Mrs. Weasley said as she knelt easily to look at them. “Oh, you two. You’ve both the look of your Great Granny Primrose—she had eyes just as green as yours. Lovely woman, Primrose Evans. She was your Granny Petunia’s mum.”
Amy stared at her for a moment, then said, “She never let us call her Granny Petunia. We’re to call her Mrs. Dursley.” It was the most Penelope had heard her say since taking her into care the Thursday evening previous.
“Well, that’s her,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Not all grannies are the same.”
“You won’t want us,” Amy said.
“Of course I do. Two brand new grandchildren to my family, is what you are. Absolute treasures,” Mrs. Weasley said, without a trace of insincerity.
“We’re freaks,” Al said, as he peeked around Amy.
“Now, who told you that?” Mrs. Weasley asked gently.
“Mrs. Dursley,” he said. Amy tried to hush him, but he added, “So did Mummy.”
Penelope caught her breath at that. It was the first thing either of them had really said about their home life.
“And what about your dad? What did he say?” Mrs. Weasley was a wonder. She didn’t flinch away from asking the necessary question.
“Daddy called Mummy bad names whenever she said we were freaks,” Amy said, apparently deciding in for a penny, in for a pound. “He told Mrs. Dursley she wasn’t allowed around us anymore, not if she was going to treat us the way she treated Harry.”
“Your dad’s a good man,” Mrs. Weasley said.
“But he hurt Mummy,” Al said. “I saw it.”
“I’m so sorry, love,” she said. “That’s something no child should see.”
“I want my daddy,” Amy said, her lower lip trembling.
“Of course you do. And your mum, too, I don’t doubt, for all that she called you names,” Mrs. Weasley said. “And I wish you could see him, but for the time being, I’m going to take you home.”
“We’re living with you?” Amy gave her a skeptical look.
“No, you’re to live with your cousin Harry and his wife, my daughter Ginny. They have a house in a lovely little village, and you’ll have all sorts of cousins around to help you get settled.”
“Cousins?” Al perked up a little at that. “Mummy always said the only family left was Mrs. Dursley.”
“I never met your mummy, or I would have let her know the truth of the matter.” Mrs. Weasley opened her arms, then, and said, “Now. I’ve been waiting ever so long for a hug from my newest grandchildren. Please?”
Penelope looked on in surprise as both children tripped over themselves to wrap their arms around Mrs. Weasley’s neck. It was the most emotion she’d seen out of them, and she was relieved when she heard them start to cry.
David gestured to the door and they left the other three to get better acquainted. “I don’t think you could have found anyone more perfect if you’d tried,” he said.
“I’d take the credit if I could, but Mr. Potter reached out to us.”
“Was it the police in Little Whinging that came through?”
“Must have done,” Penelope said. “I don’t know, though. Sylvia got the call at home last night.”
“Hm. I’m not happy that Mr. Potter isn’t here, though I understand he’s in service at the moment.”
“Sylvia claimed the Queen called to tell her he couldn’t pick up the children,” Penelope said. She’d just about decided Sylvia was having her on this morning.
“Maybe not the Queen, but the paperwork Mrs. Weasley gave me was processed through the Protection Command.”
After a moment, Penelope asked, “Do you think they’ll do well with their cousin and his family?”
“If Potter and his wife are half the parents Molly Weasley is, I think they’ll do incredibly well,” he said.
***
Penelope gave little thought to the Dursley twins after that. A woman by the name of Amelia Bones had arrived to transfer the children’s casework to an office local to Ottery St. Catchpole, and once that happened, Penelope’s time and attention was taken up by other children. The next time she thought of them at all was nearly a year later, when their father was to go on trial for the murder of his wife.
The Liverpool papers were full of lurid speculation over the case, and Sylvia said she thought it was likely because not a one of them had been able to trace the twins after they left the area.
“Thank God for small favors,” Penelope said, grimacing at the headline of Defiant Deadly Dad Dudley Dursley Demands Deferral of Defense. “It doesn’t say what he’s defiant over.”
“Killing his wife,” Sylvia said. “You might have missed it. I think you were dealing with Rupert Stockwell’s aunt the day the article came out.”
“That woman. As bad as Dursley’s mother, from the little I heard the twins say. So why did he demand a deferral?”
“Pure imagination on the journalist’s part, as there’s no real demand for a deferral. He just couldn’t resist the alliteration. Dursley has been asking to let him plead guilty and get on with the sentencing.”
“I should think the court would be happy with that. Why aren’t they?” Penelope asked, even as she scanned the paper for more information.
“His cousin, Harry Potter, is some kind of hot shot in the legal system. The Crown Court is falling over itself to ensure a fair trial, no matter what Dursley has to say on the subject.”
Valerie popped into the break room and said, “Pen, Judge Greene wants you in chambers ten minutes ago.”
Penelope was moving even before she realized it and said, “What? Why? None of my cases is on a docket today. And who is Judge Greene? There’s no one by that name in Family Court.”
“She’s Crown Court. And the bailiff didn’t say why. Just that you’re to be there as soon as possible.”
Penelope swore under her breath and took off. At this time of day, it would take her at least a quarter hour, and that assumed she could find a taxi and that the city center wasn’t a tangle.
***
She wasn’t as familiar with Crown Court as she was Family Court, so Penelope was grateful that her name had been left as someone to be escorted. Once she saw the mass of people in the corridor she was doubly grateful and doubly confused.
The security officer knocked on a door down a side corridor, then opened it to Penelope. When she entered, she saw Dudley Dursley and two other men, presumably his defense counsel, sitting before Judge Greene.
“I apologize,” she said. “I didn’t realize I was to be here today.”
“Not to worry, Ms. Stewart. You were a last-minute addition. I think you’ve met Mr. Dursley?”
“I haven’t,” she said. “By the time I would have gone to interview him, Mr. Potter had already made himself known to us. Shortly after that, the twins’ case was transitioned to a local office.”
Judge Greene didn’t look impressed, and honestly, Penelope couldn’t blame her. “Your Honor, Ms. Stewart is correct. Once I learned what happened, I moved quickly to ensure that Amy and Al were brought home. I didn’t want to leave them in care any longer than necessary.”
Penelope looked at him more carefully and realized that he and the twins had the exact same color eyes. Odd, that. If she hadn’t known better, she might have assumed they were Mr. Potter’s children from the start.
“I’m glad he did,” Mr. Dursley said. The other man, who was most certainly his barrister, started fussing, and Mr. Dursley shrugged him off. “I couldn’t stand the way Mum and Maggie were getting after them all the time. I knew Harry was who they needed. Not me.”
“I don’t think that’s true, Mr. Dursley,” Penelope said, thinking of how they’d been when they met Molly Weasley. “They both missed you.”
Mr. Dursley went red, and Mr. Potter said, “I told you they missed you. Why would I lie about a thing like that?”
“Ms. Stewart, you’re here today, because Mr. Potter has asked that Amaryllis and Allium be permitted a visitation with their father. I’ve been reluctant to agree, given the nature of the crime. What are your thoughts?”
Penelope looked at the judge and said, “Ordinarily, I would agree, but I know the children’s grandmother and mother referred to both of them as freaks. I think they look on their father as someone who cared about them, even though he committed violence on their mother.”
“I shouldn’t ought to have done it, but she was talking about taking them to London and leaving them at King’s Cross station,” Mr. Dursley said. “The night I—that night, she said—” he swallowed hard before continuing with “—never mind what she said. Decent humans don’t talk like that.”
Judge Greene asked gently, “What was special about King’s Cross?”
“Family history,” Mr. Potter answered.
Judge Greene stared at him for a moment and then said, “Oh, for the love of—seriously? That’s what the problem was?”
Mr. Potter looked at her and said, “You, er, know about—?”
“My sister sorted into Ravenclaw,” which made exactly no sense to Penelope but seemed to be enough to relax both Mr. Potter and Mr. Dursley. Judge Greene continued, “Right, then. Familial prejudice versus a loving father led to an extreme reaction.”
Mr. Dursley’s barrister was left standing there with his mouth open. Penelope might have mocked him, but she realized her own mouth was open as well.
“Mr. Johnson, it’s in your client’s best interest to enter a plea of manslaughter. He’ll serve ten years without chance of early release, but at least his children will still be children when he’s allowed back in the world. Mr. Potter, I’m approving your request for the children to see their father, pending an evaluation by Ms. Stewart. Are they here?”
“Um, they will be. I just need to contact my wife to bring them. Over. From the hotel.”
Judge Greene gave him a long look, and Mr. Potter eventually squirmed. “Please. Go—call—your wife. Mr. Roberts will direct you to a quiet location.”
Mr. Potter made his escape at that point, and Penelope both wished she could join him and wondered if she’d be allowed to stay long enough to sort out what had actually been communicated.
“Ms. Stewart, please go with Mr. Roberts. He’ll direct you to an interview room. I’d like you to speak with the children to see how they’ve settled in to their accommodation with the Potter family and to make sure that it is their wish to see their father, and not Mr. Potter’s wish for them.”
“Of course, your honor,” she said, moving quickly to catch up with Mr. Roberts. He directed her to an unoccupied office. The phone worked, so she took the time to call Valerie and have her pull their copy of the twins’ record. She thought she remembered the case well enough, but was happy to have Valerie read through her report after Mrs. Weasley’s arrival.
“Ms. Stewart?” A tall red-head, perhaps ten years younger than herself, stood in the doorway.
“Yes?”
“Hello. I’m Ginny Potter. I think you met my mother last year.”
“Of course. How are you, Mrs. Potter?”
“Fine, thanks.” She turned to the side, saying, “It’s just like Granny promised. The same lady who took you to Strawberry Field.”
A little girl peeked into the room, and as soon as she saw Penelope, she gave her a big grin. “I remember you! Come on, Al, it’s Miss Pen, just like Granny promised.”
Al followed his sister into the room, and Penelope had to smile at them both. The last she’d seen of them, they were pale wraiths sobbing their heart out. Now they looked as if they spent as many hours as possible outside. Better still, they’d grown a bit and were far better fed than they had been. Clearly, going to the Potters had been the best thing to ever happen to them.
Amy was chattering away, with Al correcting her every so often. At the moment, Penelope was more interested in the children’s affect than what they had to say, but then— “I’m sorry. What’s quidditch?”
While Amy looked horrified, Mrs. Potter smiled and said, “It’s a game their cousins made up. Amy and Al are a bit young to play, but they love watching.”
Penelope looked at her for a moment. She’d lost her train of thought, but that didn’t matter. The twins were clearly happier than they’d been. Now all that remained was to confirm they wanted to see their father.
“I’m so pleased to see you doing well,” she told them. “It sounds like you’re very happy with your cousin and his family.”
“We are,” said Amy, ever the leader. “Mummy Ginny lets us help with Lily.”
“She’s a baby,” Al said. “We saw Mummy Ginny before Lily was born, and she was huge!” This last was said with his arms wide open.
Mrs. Potter sighed, “Not that large, surely.”
Penelope gave her a sympathetic look, then asked, “Do you understand why you’re here today?”
“So we can see Daddy!” Al said on a shout. Amy nodded agreement. Neither of them looked distressed by the prospect, so that was one hurdle cleared.
“Do you understand why you haven’t been able to see your Daddy?”
Amy bit her lip. “It’s because he did something bad to Mummy.”
“How do you feel about that, Amy?”
“She was mean,” Al said. Amy shushed him, but Al continued, “She used to pinch me, right here—” he lifted his left arm and pointed a short way from his arm pit “—and told me I was a freak who never should have been born.”
Amy shrugged. “She did that to both of us. She said Mrs. Dursley told her how to do it.”
Penelope looked up and saw Mr. Potter frowning deeply at what the children said. “Did Mrs. Dursley ever do that to you?” he asked.
“Only the one time,” Amy said. “Then Daddy said we would never have to go back there.”
Mrs. Potter said, “Harry?”
“No. It’s done and over for me and for the children. It’s her loss.”
Penelope thought she knew what that was about and turned back to the children. “This will be the last time you’ll be able to see your daddy for a while, do you understand why?”
“He has to go to jail,” Amy said. “That’s what Rupert said when he was being mean to us.”
A minor mystery solved, she thought. She’d have to mention it to David, if she remembered to.
“Mean or not, he told you the truth. Your daddy does have to go to jail for a period of time. How will you feel about that?”
“He shouldn’t have hurt Mummy,” Amy said. It had the feeling of a rote statement that she didn’t particularly believe, and Penelope wondered just what else Mrs. Dursley had taught her unlamented daughter-in-law when it came to hiding signs of abuse. “But it’s okay, because we’re with Daddy Harry, and that’s where Daddy wanted us to go.”
“How do you know that?” Penelope was certain that neither child had ever heard of their cousin Harry before they went to live with him.
“I told them what Dudley told me,” Mr. Potter said. “I’ve been visiting with him to convince him to accept the services of the barrister I hired. It took a while, but he finally said yes.”
“Children, would you please go out the door with your Mummy Ginny? I’d like to talk to Daddy Harry for a moment.”
Once the room was clear, Mr. Potter said, “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Petunia Dursley abused me. So did her husband. And Dudley beat me up on a fairly regular basis when we were young.”
“Then why are you helping him and his children?”
“Family history.” Penelope continued staring at him and was pleased to see it worked just as well on him as it did on any other recalcitrant parent. “Look. It’s our choices who make us who we are, not our circumstances of birth. I could have chosen to cut off all contact with the Dursleys, but when Dudley reached out to me about eighteen months ago, I made a different choice. He was in a bad situation and knew his children were in danger from his mother and wife both. We were trying to sort out the best method of transfer of custody when he snapped one night. Dudley won’t tell me what happened, and Amy and Al both claim ignorance when I ask.”
“You don’t believe them,” she said.
“I don’t. I also don’t think it’s an issue I want to push right now. They feel safe in my family, but there are still moments when they freeze and expect a punishment of some sort. Once they stop freezing, I’ll ask. Until then, it’s irrelevant.”
“Fine. Last question, then: are you in family counseling?”
“Yes, we are. James, our oldest, had trouble accepting that he was suddenly a younger brother, and Amy and Al both suffered nightmares when they arrived. Albie, our second child, was too young to understand. As far as he’s concerned, Amy and Al have always been his oldest siblings.”
“And now?”
“It’s a work in progress,” Mr. Potter said with a tired smile. “They have good days and bad days, but there are more good days than not lately.”
“Good,” she said with a smile. “Now let’s take them back to see their father.”