Toil and Trouble Chapter 17 : The places we are kept - Part 1 of 3 (A Harry Potter fanfiction)
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July 2, 1994. Number 4, Privet Drive
Harry noticed it the moment he entered the kitchen.
There were no pastries cooling on the counter. No jars of sweets next to the biscuit tin. No bacon sputtering in its usual, grease-heavy defiance of any concept of moderation. Instead, the counter held a bowl of fruit. Real fruit. Bright apples, bananas, grapes rinsed clean and still beaded with water. A jug of lemon water sat beside it, catching the morning light.
For a moment, he wondered if he had walked into the wrong house.
Petunia stood at the stove, stirring something that smelled, confusingly, healthy. Oats, perhaps. Dudley sat at the kitchen table with a glass of water and a small plate of sliced fruit in front of him, staring at it as though it might bite.
Harry leaned closer as he sat down.
“What happened here?” he whispered.
Dudley didn’t look up. His ears flushed slightly red. “Mum says I’m ‘overweight.’ Doctor too,” he muttered.
Harry blinked.
“That lot at Smeltings,” Dudley went on more quietly, finally glancing up. “They call me ‘Sumo.’ They wobble their arms when I walk past. Doesn’t feel very nice.”
Harry’s fingers curled around the edge of the table.
“No,” he said. “It doesn’t.”
Dudley swallowed. “I didn’t think about it,” he added after a moment. “When I said things to other people. Thought it was funny… guess I was wrong.”
Harry looked at his cousin. Dudley looked somber, as though he'd given this subject considerable thought.
“What do you want to do about it?” he asked instead.
“I want to lose it,” Dudley said. “All of it. I want to be… normal. I want to wear normal sized clothes. I don't want to struggle to breathe after I climb a flight of stairs."
Then, following a pause, he added, "I want to play football someday. And I'll never make the team if I don't lose weight."
Harry studied him — the familiar face that suddenly felt unfamiliar. Changed.
“I can help with that, Dud,” he said finally. “But you won’t like it.”
Dudley looked up, hope and dread fighting in his eyes. “Try me.”
“All right then. Tomorrow,” Harry said. “Five-thirty in the morning, we'll go running. Then I'll teach you some exercises.
Dudley raised his eyebrows at that. "Five thirty?"
"Yeah... you'll have to put in the work if you wanna see results", Harry replied, I'm here for the next two weeks. I can show you what you can do to lose a bit of weight. And you can continue it after I'm gone.", Harry said, taking an apple.
The next morning, Dudley’s groaning echoed down Privet Drive long before the sun appeared in any meaningful way.
“This is barbaric,” he gasped, clutching his side as they jogged past Mrs. Figg’s house. “No one civilised is awake right now.”
“If you can talk, you can run,” Harry replied mildly, increasing the pace just a fraction.
“I hate you, Harry” Dudley wheezed.
“No, you don’t,” Harry said, trying not to smirk, “You hate the version of you that doesn’t want to change.”
Dudley cursed at him. Then, surprisingly, laughed.
They ran every morning. Rain or shine. Dudley complained every time. Loudly, theatrically, dramatically. But he came out anyway. After the first three days, he stopped asking if they could skip. After the fifth, he started setting his alarm before Harry knocked on his door.
On the seventh morning, Harry noticed Dudley was no longer lagging half a mile behind. He was still red-faced, still sweating, but he was smiling.
Petunia watched them from behind the thin lace curtain in the front room. She told herself she was only checking the weather. Yet her eyes softened when she saw the two boys at the end of the street. Harry, relaxed and focused, and Dudley struggling but determined beside him.
And she utterly failed to suppress that private smile that graced her face.
At breakfast, Vernon inspected Dudley over his newspaper. “You don’t look half-dead today, son. An improvement, I say."
“Give it time,” Dudley replied, reaching for the toast instead of the usual sugary cereal. "I am trying. Plus Harry’s been a big help."
Vernon’s small eyes shifted to Harry. “Do they teach this sort of thing at... that school you attend? About fitness and all?"
Harry paused, butter knife hovering mid-air.
"Well no, not at school,” he said carefully. “But Remus and Sirius say that you need to be in shape if you want to be good at defensive magic. So I have this exercise regimen to stay fit. That's what I've been teaching Dudley."
Petunia looked up from her plate.
“Defensive magic?” she repeated quietly, "why do children need defence?"
"Aunt Petunia, it's nothing dangerous. It's just Defence Against the Dark Arts. A regular magical subject. Like PE, only… different. Everyone studies it."
“And it’s… safe?” she asked.
Harry held her gaze for a moment, something unspoken passing between them.
“Its safe, Aunt. I promise,” he said. "Think of it as magical martial arts."
Petunia nodded and went back to eating her breakfast, but her expression remained strained.
July 10, 1995. Hadley Wood
The Dursleys’ telephone rang just after tea.
Petunia was the nearest to it.
“Hello?”
There was a brief pause, just long enough for a few clipped greetings to br exchanged.
“Yes… one moment,” she said after a beat, glancing toward the stairs.
“Harry,” she called, “it’s for you.”
Harry looked up from the book he’d been pretending, unsuccessfully, to read. “For me?”
“Yes,” Petunia replied. “It's Sirius Black.”
Her hand lingered on the receiver for just a second, as though weighing the consequences of whatever was travelling through that wire. Then she held it out to him.
Harry took it. “Sirius!"
A familiar voice filled his ear.
“Evening, Little Prongs! Good to hear your voice,” Sirius said, though behind the lightness was paternal affection and concern. "Are you still sane?”
“I am,” Harry replied with a laugh, “I’ve been having fun helping Dudley lose weight.”
“Oh? That is a positive development.”, said Sirius, "Perhaps the boy will escape the fate of Dursley men turning into living footballs."
Harry glanced up. Petunia had moved back to the sink, her shoulders stiff, pretending not to listen. Dudley was in the sitting room, the thud of his exercise routine faintly audible.
“He's trying really hard ,” Harry continued. “Better than I'd expected.”
Sirius raised a brow. “Is that so?”
“Yeah. In fact, they're all on some kind of… health kick. You should see the kitchen. You wouldn’t recognise it.”
“Should I be concerned?”
“Well… I’ve been getting Dudley up at five-thirty every morning for runs.”
There was a long pause on the line.
“…You’re what?”
“He asked,” Harry said. “He really wants to get in shape.”
Sirius barked a surprised, genuine laugh. “Merlin save me! This world has officially lost its mind. Just don't give poor Petunia a heart attack running her precious baby ragged, yeah?"
“Duly noted" Harry said with a chuckle before asking, "how are you and Remus doing? Anything new?"
“We’re fine, Harry,” Sirius said more softly. “Remus is trying to convince me to invest in some boring old real estate company. Like some square."
“Its a safe, reliable investment Sirius,” came Remus’s voice faintly in the background.
“Exactly what a square would say,” Sirius returned lightly.
“You still have your edgy video game investments. I'm sure that evens things out.”
Harry smiled at the sound of them bickering gently in the background.
“You two are at Hadley Wood as it is. Would you like to come over?” he asked.
“I don’t think your Aunt Petunia is dying to see me on her doorstep, Little Prongs,” Sirius said, though there was no real bitterness in it.
Harry glanced toward the kitchen again. Petunia was drying a plate. She did not look at him, but she also didn’t leave the room either.
“She doesn't mind you calling though,” he said.
“I’ll take that as progress,” Sirius replied. “But just hang on, alright? We’re coming to get you in a week.”
“I don’t mind the week, really.”
“That worries me more than anything you’ve said today.”
Harry laughed quietly.
“Put Remus on?” Sirius said.
A soft shuffle. The phone shifted.
“Harry,” Remus said, warmth immediate in his voice. “We miss you.”
“I miss you too.”
“Give our regards to your aunt and uncle,” Remus added gently. “And as for Dudley, tell him we’re rooting for him.”
“I will,” Harry said.
“And take care of yourself,” Remus continued.
“I will. I promise. See you in a week then".
"See you, Harry"
The line went silent.
In the quiet that followed, Remus lowered the phone back into its cradle slowly, thoughts moving faster than his hands. In moments, Sirius had wrapped his arms around him from behind.
“Do you really think he’s alright?” Sirius asked quietly.
Remus turned around and placed his arms over his lover's shoulders, voice calm and certain. “Yes. I do.”
“Think Petunia’s really being good to him?”
“I think she loves him very much, Padfoot.” Remus said. “She worries about him a lot, you know. She just... doesn’t know how to show it.”
He rested his forehead lightly between Sirius’s shoulder blades. “Losing Lily scarred her, I think. That sort of loss changes a person.”
"All right, I trust your judgement",Sirius said, pulling him into an even tighter embrace. “You’re the mature one in this relationship, Moony.”
“I’ve always been.”
Their foreheads touched. The world stilled.
Sirius kissed him. It started slow, sure, reverent. And as always, it soon turned heated, passionate, desperate. Soon, their clothes were on the floor.
Harry wouldn't be with them for the next six days. Nor did Remus have to rush off to Hogwarts. So why not take advantage of all this wonderful time they had to themselves?
July 11, 1994. Number Four, Privet Drive
Dear Harry,
How are you doing? Mum has been spoiling us with all her cakes and pastries. You said in your last letter, that your aunt had been making healthy foods - whatever that means. Has she made you any desserts at all? If not, say the word and I’ll send you a crate of Mum’s treacle tart. Fred and George offered to “deliver it personally and explosively,” so I told them no. But I'm sure our owl can deliver it.
Speaking of those two absolute menaces, you will NOT believe what they’ve been up to.
They’ve somehow convinced Ginny that they’re starting a “Joke Apprenticeship Programme” and that she’s their Official Test Subject. She’s been strutting around like she’s been promoted to Minister of Fun. Yesterday, they tried out something that made her hair change colour every hour. Mum nearly fainted when it went purple. But Ginny thinks it's the coolest thing.
Dad very calmly said, “Fascinating,” and then hid behind his newspaper. Probably to hide his snickering.
Oh and Charlie’s here too! He came for a short visit from Romania and he’s barely stopped talking about dragons since he arrived. He says he’s nearly finished his Dragonology Studies and that he’ll be getting his Mastery in March next year. That’s all Mum and Dad talk about now.
He’s actually brought a few old notes and diagrams with him. You’d love them. The drawings are mental. Very detailed, but terrifying too. I think Hermione might love them.
Dean’s been coming round a lot lately. He just got his flying licence and he’s been showing off his Nimbus 1800. But I don’t mind, really. He’s actually pretty good. We’ve been practicing together most evenings when the weather’s decent. I’m still faster than him on sharp turns, obviously, but he’s catching up.
I told him I’m basically a future Quidditch legend and he said, “Sure you are, mate.”
The cheek.
I’ve also written to Hermione, by the way. Haven’t heard back yet, but I’m sure she’s doing something ridiculously impressive somewhere. She did mention that her parents had talked about taking her to Japan. Maybe she hasn't gotten back yet.
Anyway, I miss you, Harry. Both of you. It’s strange not having you here to complain about everything with me.
Write back when you can, yeah? Tell me how the training with Dudley is going. I can’t believe I just wrote that sentence.
Your mate,
Ron
July 12, 1994. Number Four Privet Drive
Dear Ron,
Got your letter, thanks for sending it. I’ve read it three times now, mostly because the bit about Ginny sneezing and changing hair colour made me choke on my tea. Tell Fred and George I hope they’re proud of themselves. (Actually, don’t. They’ll only get worse.)
It sounds like things at the Burrow are loud as ever. I miss it.
Tell Charlie congratulations, in advance, on his Dragonology Mastery. I'll bet it's really difficult, and it sounds bloody brilliant. I’d like to see the diagrams he brought, maybe he can show me when I come over next.
The bit about you and Dean flying made me laugh. I’m glad you’ve got someone to practice with, though I doubt he’s anywhere near as good on a broom as you are. Don’t let him get too smug.
Things here are alright. Dudley’s taken to his weight loss programme really well. Better than I expected. He and I have been running together every morning. He really is trying.
And I wanted to ask you something.
Would you like to come stay at the Hadley Wood house for a few days? I'll be staying with my aunt and uncle till the sixteenth. After that, Remus and Sirius said they can bring you through the Fold, I know your Mum might worry, but they’ll talk to her if needed.
I'm gonna call Hermione and ask her to meet up with us. Yes, she and her parents are still in Japan, but will return tomorrow. The three of us could do some Muggle things together. Maybe amusement parks and such. It'll be fun.
Write back soon and tell me if you can come.
Your friend,
Harry
July 13, 1994. Number Four Privet Drive
Dear Harry,
I'll make this quick. Mum said I could go to your Hadley Wood house. She spoke to Sirius, they've decided he'll take me through on the seventeenth. See you then.
And yeah, do talk to Hermione.
Your mate,
Ron
Harry folded Ron’s letter, set it aside, and stared at the phone on the counter. He was sure his aunt wouldn't mind him using it. It felt strange, that this house, which had always felt tight and uncomfortable in childhood, now seemed willing to let him reach outward.
Still, it was best to ask.
Petunia was wiping down the already spotless kitchen counter when Harry cleared his throat.
“Aunt Petunia?”
She paused, cloth in hand, waiting.
“Um… would it be alright if I made a call? To a friend.”
Her eyebrows lifted by a fraction. “From your school?”
Harry nodded. “Yes. Hermione. Hermione Granger. She’s… well, she’s Muggle-born, you see. So it makes more sense to call her instead of sending an owl."
Petunia’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Muggle-born,” she repeated quietly, as if that term was somehow loaded.
Harry opened his mouth, suddenly anxious to explain. “It just means, children who are born to Muggle families, but they have magic, and..."
“I know what that is,” Petunia interrupted, voice careful, controlled.
Harry blinked. Then remembered that of course his aunt would know what Muggle-born meant. His mother, her sister, was one.
Petunia took a slow breath and stepped back from the counter. “If you want to ring your friend, you may. Just don’t stay on too long, your uncle is expecting an important call.”
Harry managed a small smile. “Thank you, aunt.”
He didn’t ask if Hermione could come over.
That felt like a line too far, like a door not ready to be opened.
July 13, 1994. Granger Residence, Hampstead
Hermione’s suitcase lay half-unpacked at the foot of her bed, kimono fabric spilling like soft water over the side, the faint scent of flowers and perfume lingering in the morning air. They had returned from their week long trip to Japan the night before. Her parents exhausted but happy, Hermione quietly buzzing with the residual thrill of temples, trains, and a culture that felt both impossibly ancient and startlingly modern.
But this morning, she wasn’t thinking about travel.
She was reading. Or rather, she was consuming.
Stacks of Muggle newspapers sat in uneven towers on her duvet, headlines spilling over each other in political urgency, economic debates, international crises, environmental reports. She flipped between them with the intensity of someone trying to catch a conversation she had stepped out of only briefly, only to return and find the entire room speaking at once.
“Darling,” her mother had said a few days earlier, as they had lunch and her parents casually discussed some important political development, “You look a bit at sea when we discuss current events. Now, I understand that you're busy with your magic. But perhaps you should try to stay abreast of all that's happening in our world as well."
Hermione didn’t deny it. She did feel at sea.
The trouble was simple, and impossible.
While she was at Hogwarts, the Muggle world kept turning. Elections, discoveries, tragedies, scientific breakthroughs, laws passed and overturned. And she never heard of any of it until months later.
Asking her parents so send her newspapers via owl was not an option. “Muggle items are prohibited within the school grounds”, the Ministry’s favourite ridiculous laws, had made that impossible.
She knew she should be aware of what was going on in the world she came from. That was the problem. She wasn’t part of just one world anymore. And the Magical and the Muggle sides of her often seemed to pull her in opposing directions.
She ran her fingers across the moving photograph she'd brought with her to show her parents. They were of her from the Transfiguration Tournament. The three pictures captured her in action during the three rounds of the competition.
Her parents had stared at them for a long time.
Impressed. Proud. And also something else, something quieter, something that twisted beneath Hermione’s ribs. Distance.
Her mother kept touching the surface like it might warm beneath her fingers. Her father had asked if the creature beside her was alive, after seeing her turn a Puff-Pod into a fish-like creature.
Hermione had tried to explain that it wasn't, not really. She wasn’t sure she’d succeeded.
Her parents loved her. They were fascinated by her. But magic… magic was turning her into something they could admire, but not fully understand. And that frightened her in a way she couldn’t quite name.
She had never really felt the need to belong anywhere. School, clubs, competitions, university lecture halls. She simply adapted, absorbed, excelled. But now… Now she wasn’t sure where belonging ended and alienation began.
She pushed the newspapers aside, rubbing her forehead. “How am I supposed to stay connected to both?” she whispered.
The phone rang downstairs.
Hermione froze.
Her parents were both home. And she could think of only one person who could be calling her. She picked up.
“Hi, Hermione. It’s Harry.”
She felt the knot in her chest loose just a little.
“Harry! Hi!", she said delightedly, "How have you been. We just got back last night. Japan was incredible.”
“I'm good, Hermione. Yeah, Sirius and Remus actually took me to Japan once. Its awesome. Listen... Ron sent you a letter. Were you able to get it?"
Hermione sighed. "Yes, I could only read it last night. Odysseus can only deliver it to my registered Muggle address. I'll wrote to him today."
“Hermione, I wanted to ask,” Harry began, suddenly aware of how strange it felt to ask something normal over a Muggle telephone line, “if you’d like to come over to Sirius’s Muggle house."
“Oh? Sirius has a Muggle house?” Hermione said, pleasantly surprised, “Where is it?”
“Hadley Wood,” Harry replied. “On the seventeenth, if that works. Ron’s coming too.”
Hermione blinked, then let out a small laugh. “Hadley Wood? Harry, that’s where I go through the Fold. It’s where I’ve been arriving for months!”
“Wait! You use the Hadley Wood Fold?” Harry asked, suddenly feeling foolish for not figuringthis out earlier. Hermione lived in London, of course that was the Fold ahe would use. “Well Sirius’s house is right next to it.”
“You mean the huge house that’s always empty?” Hermione asked. “With the tall gate?”
“Yeah,” Harry admitted. “That’s the one.”
Hermione’s laugh brightened. “Harry! My parents have parked next to that house every time they picked me up, or dropped me off. I had no idea it was yours.”
“It’s Sirius’s, really.", Harry said with a chuckle, "We stay there whenever we visit the Muggle world.”
“Well,” Hermione said, still amused, “it’s lovely. From the outside, at least.”
“So,” Harry said, “can you come? And hopefully stay for a few days?”
"“I’d love to. Truly. I’ll just need to ask Mum and Dad, I'll let you know in a while."
“Great,” Harry said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m really glad you’re back.”
Hermione’s expression softened, touched by something warm and unexpected. She had friends. And one of them had called her.
“I’m glad you called, Harry.”
The television murmured faintly from the sitting room, where Rose and Hugo were cuddling on the couch and watching the news. Hermione cleared her throat to get their attention.
“Mum? Dad? Can I talk to you for a moment?”
Both Doctors Granger looked up at their daughter immediately, reducing the television volume.
Hermione always spoke plainly, but there was a particular careful tone she used when asking for something important. They recognised it instantly.
“Of course, sweetheart,” Rose said, pulling out the chair beside her.
Hermione sat. Her fingers folded neatly in her lap, too neatly.
“So… Harry called today.”
“Harry!” Rose, with said a look of recognition, “Harry Potter, right? The one who survived that attack. Yes, what did he say?"
“Well… Harry asked if I’d like to visit his house. His godfather’s house, actually. Sirius Black.... remember I told you about him and Professor Lupin?"
Her parents nodded.
"Well their house is in Hadley Wood,... it's that one right next to the fold.... and Harry’s invited me to come on the seventeenth, and maybe stay a few days. And Ron will be there too."
Rose and Hugo exchanged a glance, the kind that lasted only a second but conveyed entire paragraphs of silent parental discussion.
“We’re very glad you have friends now darling,” Hugo said first. “It’s important.”
“We’ve heard a great deal about Harry and Ron,” Rose said. “And of course we’ve met the Weasleys, lovely people. But Mr Black and Professor Lupin… we’ve never had the chance to meet them.”
Hermione tried to keep her expression neutral, but something in her chest tightened. She wasn’t ready to tell them everything. Not about the dangerous parts. Not about her ongoing martial magic training under Sirius and Remus. And certainly not about the attack on Ostara.
Rose reached across the table and took her hand. “Darling, we don’t want to hover. We understand there are parts of your magical life we simply won’t understand. But we'd really like to meet Harry’s guardians, just to be sure."
Hugo nodded. “We’d feel better if we knew the adults responsible for Harry. And for the house you’ll be visiting.”
Hermione swallowed and nodded.
“So,” Rose went on, “why don’t you invite Harry, and this Sirius and Remus, over for dinner? Ron as well, if he’s visiting. We’d love to have all of them.”
Hermione blinked, startled, then relieved. “You… want them to come here?”
“Of course,” her mother said. “We want to know the people who are important to you.”
Hermione’s smiled “Alright. I’ll ask them. I’m sure Harry and Ron would love it.”
“Good,” Rose said, patting her hand. “And Hermione?”
“Yes?”
Rose’s voice softened. “You know you can tell us if anything is ever wrong. If anything ever frightens you.”
Hermione nodded, a bit too quickly. “I know.”
She wasn’t ready to tell them. Not yet. Not about the training. Not about the danger. Not about how she had become someone they admired but could no longer fully understand.
But this, a dinner, a proper meeting. This she could give them.
Dear Ron,
I’m so sorry it took me several days to reply. My parents and I were in Japan for a week, and we only got back last night.
Japan was extraordinary. We visited Kyoto, Tokyo, Nara, and a few smaller towns in between. The temples were magnificent. Intricate woodwork, painted beams, lanterns everywhere. We visited Shinto Shrines as well. And the trains! Ron, Muggle trains are so fast. I wish you could see it one day.
Please congratulate Charlie for me. A Dragonology Mastery is incredibly impressive. If he wouldn’t mind terribly, could you ask him whether I might borrow one of his diagrams? I’ve never seen a dragon up close, and I’d love to study their anatomy properly.
Also, this is the big part, my parents would really like to meet you, Harry, Sirius and Remus.
They’ve already met your parents, of course, but they want to meet Harry’s guardians as well. They said it would make them feel better about me spending time in Harry’s house. So Mum suggested inviting everyone over to dinner here.
Harry has already said yes, and Sirius and Remus said they’ll come too. It would mean a lot to me if you came as well. My parents have heard so much about you, and they really want to meet my friends properly.
Let me know if you can join them.
Your friend,
Hermione
