Harry felt a bit like he was in the Twilight Zone. Dudley never mocked him for his unusual appearance, Petunia was acting like a proper guardian, and no one lived in the cupboard beneath the stairs-- unless you counted the spiders.
Vernon was still difficult to get along with, but aside from avoiding his nephew and grunting if confronted, he wasn't in the picture much.
Dudley had his eleventh birthday party in late June, but Petunia was decidedly against the zoo, so it was spent at the nearby park. Only a few people were invited, and though Aunt Marge sent gifts, she was absent. Petunia disapproved of her husband's sister. Her overall attitude, drinking, and blatant favoritism towards Dudley, in general. She also wasn't overly fond of the dogs, seeing as they were "messy creatures", and Petunia was a neat freak.
"Harry," Petunia began, pulling the boy aside one day in July. "I know you are... different. But there's things I must tell you, the reason for these differences..."
Harry wasn't sure whether he should laugh or cry. Deciding to spare his poor Aunt, he bluntly interrupted her thoughtful speech.
"I know. It's because I'm a wizard, right?"
This didn't cover everything, but it was a good start. After all, telling his Aunt about the true reason for his oddities might break her.
Petunia paused, not having expected this sort of response. Though, it made a lot of sense in retrospect, seeing as Harry was almost never surprised about anything. In fact, sometimes he almost seemed clairvoyant. This was probably one of the few things Vernon liked about his nephew.
"You... y-you... a wizard, ah... yes."
Harry, who was not able to see the future even a little bit, was simply speaking from vast experience. For him, his life was like following a script; all the events and characters followed the designs with very few alterations. This made his knowledge of the present day seem like futuresight.
Deciding to save his Aunt, Harry elaborated. "It's because of my eleventh birthday, right? When I get my letter and I am finally introduced to the magical world."
His Aunt, pale with anxiety and stress nodded. Sometimes she worried about her blood pressure, but couldn't find any relief. The thin woman wobbled for a moment before sitting weakly on the sofa.
"How in the--" she cut herself off, shaking her head. Her light, watery green eyes closed as she laughed awkwardly. "No, I don't suppose anything catches you off guard. I really should have expected this..."
The child tilted his head, his strange appearance uncovered and open in the home.
"Will you be accompanying me to Diagon Alley, Aunt Tunia?"
Brushing back her hair from her forehead with her fingertips, Petunia paused. "I suppose that depends, Harry. You always seem to have a good idea of what is going on, and I don't want to hinder you. Would you like me to?"
This had become apparent many times over the years; Harry hadn't needed to be taught any of the usual childish milestones. He knew how to use the toilet, how to dress himself, how to properly speak, and even how to lace his trainers. All this before he was two years old. Raising him had been a relative breeze, aside from a few incidents.
Harry tilted his head the opposite way now, large pointed and feathered ears twitching expressively as he thought about it.
"No, I suppose having you come with would be beneficial," He agreed, chewing one of his black nails. His missing fingers were healed over, but still rather obvious. "Provided you let me do some business on my own, as well."
In the end, Petunia agreed and they waited impatiently for the letter to arrive. Contrary to the first lifetime, the letter was read aloud at the table and quickly dispatched to the waiting owl.
"Make sure to request Albus Dumbledore returns my key," Harry added, rather annoyed at the thought of the Headmaster holding onto his school vault key. Though it was less than one-fifth of his total bank resources, it was still discomforting to know that someone else was in possession of it. Harry was a bit territorial about some instances, and this ruffled his feathers figuratively and literally.
With the school owl dispatched, Harry waited for a response from the school. It came, not as a letter or in the form of a half-Giant, but in the form of a bespectacled cat.
Minerva McGonagall remembered her first impression of the Dursleys, and the bland, short response unnerved her entirely. The letter had read as follows:
'We accept and will be present September 1st. Please return Mr. Harry Potter's vault key so we can purchase supplies.'
That was it. McGonagall had rushed to the Headmaster's office, taking the short reply written on the back of the parchment with her.
However, the Headmaster's response was just as strange. Petting the phoenix, Fawkes, he turned to look out his window. After a moment, he handed the Head of House a small brass key.
"Everything should be in order. Now, I expect this year to be quite interesting," Albus murmured quietly.
The Head of Gryffindor was unable to accept this, and took it upon herself to survey the house once more. She wasn't sure if it was the right place at first, seeing as Harry Potter did not appear as she had expected. In fact, it took three days for her to be entirely certain.
However, on the third day, the strangely dressed child came out of the home and into the alley. Crouching down, he reached out and picked up the animagus, much to her chagrin.
As he carried her into the house, McGonagall felt humiliated as she realized she was helpless. To make it worse, the child made it obvious he knew what he was doing a moment later.
"There you are, Professor. Did you bring my vault key?"
Curled up and fighting back her mortification, Minerva McGonagall transformed, harshly reminded that this was James Potter's child.
"Aunt Tunia, a Professor from the school is here!" Harry called out, not watching as the animagus fixed her clothing, smoothing out the wrinkles in her robes and thick tartan dress.
A pale blonde woman appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on an apron as she smoothed back her hair. A housewife, she didn't stand out in appearance, but McGonagall focused her attention on the woman.
"Oh? So soon! Just as you said, darling. Though I had hoped that a Professor from such a prestigious school wouldn't resort to undercover surveillance."
This was said in an offhand manner, but McGonagall felt heat rise to her cheeks in response.
"Ahem!" McGonagall cleared her throat, chiding herself not to underestimate the child of a Marauder. "My apologies, I had expected Mister Potter to be unaware of the magical world. Your response was strange and I took it upon myself to investigate. It won't happen again."
Petunia sniffed, lifting her nose a bit, but her expression softened.
"Yes, well..." Harry's Aunt shifted, brushing her hands on her apron a second time, apparently restless.
The boy in question, still mysteriously dressed and covered from head to toe, turned to the Hogwarts Professor.
"My vault key?" He said simply, extending a three-fingered hand.
McGonagall was surprised by the absence of his digits and startled, but tried not to stare. Propriety dictated that it was rude to stare, worse still to inquire about someone's appearance. And Minerva McGonagall was a very proper woman.
Straightening her spine, she nodded curtly and removed the heavy, old-fashioned brass key from her inner pocket.
"Here you are, Mister Potter."
Harry accepted it quickly, and it disappeared at once into the large pockets of his cargo pants.
"Mister Potter, Mrs. Dursley," McGonagall began. "As a child raised in the muggle world, I am often tasked with being their guide; a formal introduction to the wizarding wo---"
"That won't be necessary," Harry interrupted her quickly.
"Quite right, that won't be-- what?!" Cutting off her own response, eyes bulging behind spectacles, the prim woman balked. Her thick Scottish accent threatening to make itself known as her stress rose. None of this was as she had expected!
"My Aunt has some experience with the magical world, if you recall. My mother often brought her to Diagon Alley before they had a falling out. Due to this, your help will be unnecessary. I suggest you guide a less privileged and knowledgeable muggleborn, though your offer was kind."
Harry's tone was so matter of fact that the animagus was unable to think of a response. Her eyes sought out the other adult, only to receive a nod. Petunia fully agreed and supported her nephew.
After a moment, she swept her robes tightly around herself self-consciously and nodded once.
"I see. Then I won't waste your time any longer. Mrs. Dursley, good day. Mister Potter, I look forward to seeing you September first," With that, she apparated away, a noisy 'crack!', displacing the quiet afternoon.
For a moment, Petunia and Harry stared at each other.
"Well, at least your teleportation is quieter," Petunia finally said, raising a single blonde brow.
Harry nodded once, and the two headed back to the kitchen for supper. They were unaware of the chaos they had caused for the poor woman, or the way the Professors would gossip about the strange appearance and attitude of the Potter boy. But that was for another day.