Chapter 29-Ms.Wright.

Saturday, July 15, 1995

Harry glanced around in confusion, as he tried to pinpoint the source of the crying. If anything, he was used to having to look up slightly when he greeted customers. It took a few seconds for him to realize where the sound was coming from and shift his line of vision down.

There, just inside the door was a girl of about nine or so, with straight, light brown hair and glasses. Beside her was another girl who looked to be no more than two or three. Her hair was shorter and darker than the other girl's, and hung in wispy baby-curls.

At the moment, the older girl was looking bewildered and annoyed at the same time, as she fruitlessly worked the door latch with one hand, and fought to hold onto the baby with the other. The toddler was obviously unimpressed with her current circumstances, and was letting the world know of her displeasure. Wailing half in fear, half in indignation, she called for her mother again, and tried to yank her arm out of the other girl's grip.

Since Harry hadn't dealt with someone that young since he was that young himself, he found himself somewhat at a loss-wanting to give comfort, but not quite sure how. He glanced at Tom for guidance, but the other wizard was already moving toward the pair.

Careful to keep his pace non-threatening, Tom plucked a couple of napkins off a table as he passed by and knelt in front of the girls. Calmly, he offered one of the napkins to the older one who, Harry noticed for the first time, was crying as well. She just wasn't going at it as wholeheartedly as the little one was. Harry shook his head in wonder as he watched the scene in front of him, his respect for the old innkeeper going up another notch.

"There now, what's all this noise? It can't be as bad as all that, now can it?" Tom was saying, talking to the girls in a soothing, reassuring way. The baby calmed somewhat-stopped screaming at least-when the older girl relaxed enough to loosen the death grip she had on her arm. "Now then," Tom said, as the girls wiped their tears away, and their sobs gradually tapered off to hitches and sniffles, "My name is Tom." Motioning for Harry to approach, he included him in the introduction, "and this is Sparky."

"Hi," Harry said, with a smile, as two pairs of watery eyes, one brown, and one gray-blue, turned to him. "So, what are your names?" he asked after a second, following Tom's lead, and keeping his voice gentle and friendly.

"I'm Kitty, and this is my sister, Becky," the older one supplied, studying the two wizards cautiously.

"I'm very pleased to meet you," Harry said, keeping his smile firmly in place but thinking furiously behind it. He didn't have a perfect ear for accents, but he'd almost be willing to bet that Kitty and Becky hailed from somewhere in the United States. Were they on holiday then? Sightseeing on Charing Cross Road perhaps?

Kitty hesitantly returned his smile, then tensed up again, and yanked at the door with renewed vigor. "Nice to meet you too...but we really need to get out and find Mom!"

"What happened, Kitty? When was the last time you saw your mother?" Tom asked, skillfully drawing her attention back to him.

"She left!" the little girl blurted, shaking her head in dismay and starting to tear up again. "She was right behind us! We were looking for a place to have dinner. I thought your place looked nice, and the door was open, so we came in." She pointed toward the window. "But Mom didn't stop-she kept walking! I shut the door and couldn't open it again...and...and... Mom's gonna be so mad!" she wailed.

"Shush, love," Tom said, with a rueful glance at the offending portal. The door that opened into muggle London stuck sometimes. It had been acting up today so he'd left it ajar earlier. He'd been meaning to have a look at it, or have Harry look at it, but they hadn't gotten around to it.

The door was charmed to close itself once it was set in motion. Regulars at the Leaky Cauldron were aware of the door's idiosyncrasies, and usually left it open if they found it so. If Kitty tried to close it, though, the charm kicked in and it wedged itself shut. Tom sighed softly and patted Kitty on the back. "It will be all right, you'll see. Stop crying now, you're scaring your sister," he chided gently, noticing the toddler's trembling lip and tear-bright eyes. Looking up at Harry over the girls' heads, he mouthed, "Muggleborn."

Harry's eyes widened. Oh. OH! Of course the mother would pass innocently by! The Leaky Cauldron seemed invisible to most muggles. Even magical folk almost had to know where the Leaky Cauldron was to spot it. Harry had nearly overlooked it himself the first time Hagrid had brought him here, and had long suspected the place was charmed to partially hide itself.

"It will be safer if you stay here, and let us bring your mother to you," Tom said practically. "Now then, what does your Mum look like? Don't fret, she can't have gone too far away," he added when Kitty got a pained look on her face and involuntarily glanced out the window. "I expect she's noticed you're not with her by now."

"Well, she has brown eyes like me," Kitty began, but was interrupted by her sister.

"Mama gots back haiw wike Becky," she said, tugging at her own dark curls, then she pointed to her sister. "Daddy gots bown haiw wike Kitty."

Harry paused a moment, working through what she said. Oh, right. Mama has black hair like Becky, Daddy has brown hair like Kitty. Gotcha. "So is your father out there as well?" he asked.

"No," Kitty said, pouting a little. "He'll be here in a few days."

"All right then," Tom said briskly. He glanced down at the sisters, who had both unconsciously moved closer to him, then up at Harry. "Would you go, Sparky? She should be easy enough to spot. Hurry now, the poor dear's probably frantic with worry."

Harry privately wondered how on earth Tom expected him to find a muggle woman he'd never laid eyes on before with only the vague description of "black hair and brown eyes" to go by, but he nodded gamely, and shouldered the door open.

_____

The light of late afternoon was casting long shadows, as Harry stepped onto the street. It would be dusk soon. Muggle shopkeepers were turning on their lighted storefronts, or else getting ready to close for the evening.

All in all there wasn't a lot of foot traffic, Harry noted with relief. Maybe he'd be able to spot "Mum" at that. Taking off in the direction Kitty had indicated, Harry walked down the street, pausing to look in shop windows, and examine faces as he went.

He really was quite surprised at the girls for wandering away from their mother. Aunt Petunia hadn't taken him on outings often, but when she had he'd always received a stern warning to stay close. Fearful that he might be left behind if he got separated from her side, Harry had always done just that.

One of his earliest complete memories was a trip to the supermarket. He and Dudley had been four, perhaps five at most. Petunia never seemed to want to hold his hand, or touch him in any way, but she didn't object to him holding on to the side of the shopping cart. Harry rather liked this, since it made his aunt easier to keep track of.

On that particular trip, he'd been with Aunt Petunia, clinging tightly to the side of the cart, while Dudley ran riot a few feet in front of them. His cousin had kicked and screamed to be let out until Petunia, never able to refuse Dudley anything, gave in and removed him from the cart's child seat. Harry remembered waiting hopefully, wondering if his aunt was going to offer him a chance to ride, but of course she didn't. The seat must remain available in case Duddykins got tired and wanted to reclaim it.

It had been about then that a stranger addressed them. Aunt Petunia had been inspecting the display of tinned vegetables, trying to decide if there was anything Dudley would eat, when another shopper stopped her own cart and reached for some corn. Glancing down the aisle at Dudley, she had tutted disapprovingly. "It's disgraceful the way some people can't control their children," she had said, then beamed down at Harry. "I think that one could take some lessons from this little angel," she cooed, gently cupping his chin and tipping his head up slightly. "You're doing a wonderful job with him, dear. He's absolutely perfect-quiet, well mannered, and such beautiful green eyes."

Warmed by the unexpected praise, Harry had smiled shyly at the other woman. When she'd made her selection and went on her way, he'd looked up at his aunt, and been surprised at what he saw. Petunia's face was pale and pinched, her mouth flattened into a thin line, and she had angry spots of color in her cheeks that always meant trouble.

Harry hadn't understood. The lady had been nice. Why was she so upset? He'd been even more bewildered when they'd returned home. His aunt had rounded on him in a fury, and slapped him just as hard as she could. He'd been knocked him off his feet by the force of her blow, and sat down with a thud on the kitchen floor.

"How dare you! How dare you! " Petunia had raged, as Harry looked up at her, tears of fright and pain filling his eyes.

"But I didn't do anything!" Harry had protested, stunned, confused, and a little angry. "That's not fair! I was being good. The lady said so. Dudley is the one who was bad! You should hit him, or yell at him or lock him in the cupboard!"

Petunia had paled, then flushed, then paled again. Harry looked at her fearfully, aware without really knowing how that he'd crossed a line. When she finally spoke, her face was drawn up in ugly sneer, and her words were cold and deliberate...

"You ungrateful, vicious little wretch! You want fair? Well I don't think that it's fair that you were dropped in my lap without so much as a by-your-leave when your fool parents got themselves killed. That "lady" is a nosey old parker who doesn't know what she's talking about. She doesn't know you like I do-doesn't have to live with your freakish abnormality every day. Beautiful green eyes indeed! And that scruffy hair! You look like a common alley cat, and are about as well mannered as one, too! It disgusts me that you, who are absolutely dependent on my charity for your very survival, have the gall to insult my own son to my face!"

Harry shook his head slightly, and sighed as he continued up the street. That had been perhaps the first time he'd understood that something wasn't quite right-the first time he'd fully grasped that gaining acceptance would be difficult if not impossible in the Dursley household. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had always doted on their only child, and one of the unspoken rules of the house was "what Dudley wants, Dudley gets," but this-even in Harry's young mind-seemed far more serious than simple favoritism.

Harry had spent most of his subsequent time in the cupboard mulling over the event, and trying to make sense out of what had just happened. Then, as now he came up empty. Petunia's behavior was just plain weird.

Still, he didn't regret the incident. He was actually rather grateful to the stranger for her kind words, even if he had gotten in trouble. Chance encounters like the one in the tinned vegetables aisle, people like Mrs. Figg, and some of his more compassionate muggle teachers had given him something to hang on to. A second opinion of sorts. Any act of kindness or acceptance, no matter how small gave him hope that things could be better.

Through his strange awareness, Harry sensed early on that Vernon and Petunia resented his presence, but as a young boy, he had dared to hope that he could win his relatives' love if he just tried hard enough. Unfortunately, nothing he did seemed to please them. Oddly, his accomplishments seemed to annoy his aunt and uncle to no end, and heaven forbid if he excelled at something! When he held back a bit, it was better. The tension eased, and Petunia could happily heap loads of praise on Dudley. Finally, after years of striving toward an impossible goal, Harry had regretfully admitted defeat. He abandoned his dream of being accepted by the Dursleys, and began to simply stay out of their way.

Okay, that's enough. You're supposed to be looking for Kitty and Becky's mum, not feeling sorry for yourself! Pulling himself forcibly back to the present, Harry realized he'd reached the corner and stopped. He was just debating on which way to go, when the sounds of running footsteps and a woman's voice made him look up. This looks promising, Harry thought, observing a rather laden-down woman as she tore frantically up the side street to his right. He couldn't see her eyes or make out what she was saying at this distance, but her hair was dark. She was also pushing an umbrella stroller which had several shopping bags in the seat, and carried a diaper bag on one shoulder.

"Oh! Hello, excuse me," she called, spotting Harry, and running up to him. "Please! Have you seen two little girls?" She had a frantic, Oh-My-God-this-can't-be-happening air about her that Harry instantly sympathized with. He reckoned he had probably looked remarkably similar when he found 4 Privet Drive empty.

"Are you Kitty and Becky's mum?" Harry asked. He suspected that she was, judging by her possessions, and speech patterns, but had to make sure. Naming the girls would save time.

"Yes." The woman closed her eyes for a second in obvious relief, then opened them and peered anxiously at Harry. "Do you have them? Are they all right? Where are they?" she asked rapidly.

"They're just up the street," Harry said, pointing over his shoulder. "They wandered into the little pub and inn where I work-a place called the Leaky Cauldron," he elaborated, suddenly glad he hadn't bothered to remove his apron. "Mum" was eyeing him cautiously now, and the garment clearly stated he'd been working somewhere. After a few seconds she seemed to relax a bit, and allowed him to lead her back the way he'd come.

"I don't remember a place called The Leaky Cauldron." the woman finally ventured with a thoughtful frown after they'd walked a short distance in silence. "You'd think a name like that would stick with me."

"It's a small place-easy to miss," Harry shrugged, thinking furiously. How was he supposed to get "Mum" here, into the Leaky Cauldron if she couldn't see it? No, really ma'am, it's there. It's just invisible to non-magical folk like yourself. Yeah, right, Potter. Somehow I don't think she'd buy that. He wondered if he could just ask her to wait outside while he ran in and fetched the girls. Or maybe Tom would see them through the window, and let the kids out.

"Book store, book store, music store, theater, restaurant," his companion was muttering, obviously ticking off landmarks she remembered as they hurried up the street. Harry held his breath as they neared the pub. "Big book store, record shop-wait!" "Mum" stopped with an arrested expression on her face. " There it is! Cripes, I must have walked past it three times! Maybe I was looking at the map or something," she speculated, glancing at the hastily folded London street map that was untidily stuffed into one of the diaper bag's outer pockets.

"That must be it," Harry agreed trying not to sound too relieved. "Shall we?" he asked, opening the door, and gesturing for her to precede him.

The brunette nodded, and thanked him sincerely, before entering the pub and becoming the absolute center of attention.

******

Kitty and Becky brightened and shrieked "Mama!" when the jangling bells on the door caught their attention. Tom had settled them at a table with small glasses of pumpkin juice. Harry smiled as he watched the girls' mother hurry over and scoop them both up in her arms. When she had assured herself that her children were indeed fine, the dark haired woman shifted abruptly into "mommy mode." After settling the girls back in their seats, she stood with her arms akimbo and gave them a withering glare. "Katrina Nicole and Rebecca Marie Wright! What have I told you about staying close and not wandering off?" she demanded furiously.

Harry and Tom exchanged an amused look as Kitty and Becky shrank miserably in their seats. The whole scenario was eerily reminiscent of the time Fred, George, and Ron had fetched Harry from Privet Drive summer before second year. The Weasley brothers had worn similar looks when their mother, Molly Weasley, came stalking across the yard to meet them once they'd arrived at the Burrow. Harry had been a little unnerved, and had not known what to make of Mrs. Weasley. In his experience, angry, raised voices were never a good sign.

After staying at the Burrow for a few days, Harry began to realize that the Weasley's handled crime and punishment differently than the Dursleys did. Harry had observed other families of course, but since he didn't have any muggle friends to speak of, this was the first time he'd ever seen this kind of parent-child interaction over a long period of time. He'd found it much more to his liking, but since he had very little to compare it to, he had reckoned it was unique to the Weasley household. A Molly thing.

Now, however, he was beginning to wonder if it was actually a Mummy thing instead. Unbidden, an image of Lily Potter filled his head. It wasn't the gentle, loving, parent he'd always envisioned, but the very picture of maternal ire-face flushed and green eyes snapping angrily. Harry shuddered slightly, and wondered how many times he would have faced his mother's wrath...or would James have been the primary disciplinarian...or would they have worked as a team?

A small sound drew his attention back the girls' table. Becky and Kitty were looking anxiously at their mother, who now had her head in her hands. She had evidently spent her anger, and now appeared to be on the verge of tears. She was trying very hard to keep herself together, but her success in the endeavor was far from assured. Again, because of his own experience a few days ago, Harry had an idea of what was happening. Now that the crisis was over, and the need to stay calm and act was gone, reaction was setting in. Hmm. Perhaps "Mum" needed a few minutes to herself...

Quietly, he walked to the table, and stood between Kitty and Becky's chairs, while Tom spoke quietly to "Mum" and guided her into a third chair. "I think your mum could do with a spot of tea," he suggested casually. "Perhaps a few biscuits. Why don't you come with me, so you can tell me what she likes."

He wasn't really sure if they'd consent to come with him, but Kitty and Becky had evidently deemed him trustworthy. They nodded solemnly, and stood, surprising Harry when they both reached up and grasped one of his hands like this was the most natural thing in the world to do. Well, okay, Katrina held his right hand, and Rebecca had his left index finger, and maybe it wasn't so surprising given the lecture they'd just received, but still! It was a completely foreign sensation, but not an unpleasant one, Harry mused, smiling down at their expectant faces. "Right, then," he said, unnecessarily, turning toward the kitchen.

________