August 8, 1988
England, Little Whinging, 4 Privet Drive
"Aunt Petunia, can I help you with anything?" I offered cautiously. She had arranged several ingredients on the table and was clearly considering what to cook. The crease on her forehead smoothed out.
"Yes. I want to make steak and kidney pie. Peel the potatoes and slice them into half-moons. I'll deal with the offal."
For a while, we worked in silence. She took the kidneys out of the water, rinsed them, and began cutting them into pieces. Eventually, I sensed that Petunia-san had entered that peculiar state of serenity women sometimes reached while cooking.
"Auntie," I broke the silence, "have you noticed anything strange around here?"
"What exactly seems strange to you, Harry?" She gave me a wary look.
Well, well. If there really was some sort of mental influence, it appeared to be connected to everything 'strange', 'wizardly', and 'magical'.
"It's as if our family is a little bit enchanted," I said, trying to look innocent. "Dudley, for example, is such a good boy. We study in his room, and he taught me to read really well. But yesterday, after dinner, he said all sorts of nasty things to me. He almost cried about it today. He said he didn't know what came over him."
Petunia pressed her lips together, but she was clearly thinking about it.
"Please don't worry. I'm not angry with Dudley. He didn't do it on purpose," I continued my careful manipulation. "I understand that things are difficult for our family. Uncle's business isn't going very well, and you still have to pay the bank for the house, right?"
"Yes, the mortgage," she said, blinking in surprise.
Unlike Harry, I knew the value of money and how difficult it could be to live when there was not enough of it. Nothing came from nowhere. Everything had to be bought, and everything had to be paid for. While I helped Uncle Vernon in the garage, he had happily grumbled to me about his company, extortionate taxes, household expenses, the cost of the car he drove to London, petrol prices, and school fees for Dudley and me. In short, we were not exactly living in luxury, but we lived in a good, quiet neighborhood. Every spare pound went to their own child, and Vernon dreamed that 'his son would never lack anything and that Dudley would have everything he himself had not'. Vernon was older than Aunt Petunia and had been born after some local war. He had told me that he had gone hungry and that 'all sorts of things had happened'. He also came from an ordinary working family and had 'built his business himself'.
In principle, the Dursleys were fairly understandable people. They were decent enough not to dump an orphan in an institution, but they also tried to save a little money. On the other hand, we all ate at the same table and consumed the same food, except that Dudley occasionally received sweets. It was not as though he ate cakes 'every day', as I had somehow remembered from Harry's story. The difference was more about contrast: their own child was not required to do housework and was given slightly more freedom. That encouraged childish resentment and made the world seem biased and unfair.
I, however, knew perfectly well just how shitty life could be. After getting my fill of loneliness and hatred, I was almost enjoying life with this family. If they had loved and fussed over me from head to toe the way they sometimes did with Dudley, I would probably have felt extremely uncomfortable. A mild level of dislike and distance suited me just fine. Even that seemed to have changed during the past week. Perhaps because I had begun offering to help? How much work was there in a house with three bedrooms, a sitting room, and a combined kitchen and living room? The lawn was not particularly large either. It only needed to be kept free of weeds, while Petunia cared for the flowerbeds herself and I merely watered them. Even Vernon-san had begun grumbling less about me sitting around and wearing out my trousers for nothing.
"Ah, I eat so much," I sighed. "I would eat less, but I'm always terribly hungry..."
Aunt Petunia smiled.
"Yes... Lily was always hungry too. She was constantly snacking..." She cut herself off, and I realized she was talking about Harry's mother, her sister.
"It must run in the family," I continued cautiously, like someone stepping onto water for the first time and trying not to shatter the fragile moment. "You're very slim and graceful too. And very beautiful." Carefully forcing color into my face, I asked, "Was your sister as beautiful as you, Aunt Petunia?"
She grew embarrassed, looked away, and blinked rapidly.
"Your mother was very beautiful, Harry," Petunia-san said with a sob. "But... I don't have a single photograph of her left. When she... The last time Lily came home... she took all her photographs and all her belongings. And she was very frightened. It was as though she was running away from something or someone, or didn't want us to remember her. The last time I saw her, I was three months pregnant," Aunt Petunia said thoughtfully. "She came by... after Father's funeral... yours and Dudley's grandfather... He never recovered after Mother—your grandmother—died. Yes, that was the last time I saw her. We argued because she had not come to the funeral. I'm sorry. This is difficult to remember..."
"It's all right. I'm sorry I brought it up, Aunt Petunia." I nodded. "Losing people close to you is very hard. I wish I'd known Grandmother and Grandfather. I'm sure they were good people."
"Yes, yes," she answered distractedly. "I'll fry the potatoes. Please peel the onion and slice it into half-rings."
I concentrated on peeling and then slicing a large onion.
Very interesting facts were coming to light. Could Lily herself have been responsible for the mental influence affecting the Dursley family? If there had been a war in the magical world, and if, according to Harry, the Dark Villain's main victims had been Muggles and Muggle-borns... Could the deaths of Lily and Petunia-san's parents have been more than accidents? Even if they were accidents, they may have pushed Harry's mother toward drastic action. In effect, she had 'cut herself off' from her relatives by supposedly 'falling out' with them, protecting her sister's family from the war. The 'dark side' might have known this, while the organization to which Lily and Harry's father belonged might have believed the quarrel was only an act without any serious magic behind it. Or perhaps they knew nothing of Lily's plans and never looked into the details. As far as I understood, many of them were 'hereditary shinobi' and might simply have failed to expect anything complicated or cunning from a 'peasant girl who had only joined them yesterday'. But women had a tendency to protect their families...
In that case, perhaps Headmaster Higekane's actions made some kind of sense. And perhaps this 'protection' had come into conflict with the presence of a wizard—that is, me—in this family. It still did not excuse the absence of financial support. Damn it, there was far too little information. I could build thousands of theories. It might be this, it might be that, or I might never guess the truth at all simply because I did not know this world, the local culture, and especially wizarding traditions well enough.
Incidentally, I was not even certain that I would be a wizard. All this magic might be bound to the soul, and I was Uzumaki Naruto, not Harry Potter. I could not feel chakra either, though I meditated and tried to find something inside myself for several hours before bed every day. My morning exercises in the garden, concealed by the trees so the neighbors would not see me, had only improved my flexibility and strengthened my body. I still sensed no flow of chakra at all. I had never felt so empty.
"All done." I showed her the sliced onion. It was good that my glasses protected my eyes from the caustic fumes, though they still stung a little.
"Cut the bacon into small pieces too, about the size of your little finger," Petunia-san said, briefly looking away from the pan in which the potatoes were frying.
* * *
The pie we made together turned out to be very tasty. Beneath the baked crust was chopped meat with fried potatoes, offal, and sautéed onions.
During dinner, Aunt Petunia watched the family closely. Apparently, my words had hit their mark. But the trick with mental manipulation, just as with any genjutsu, was that it only worked while you failed to notice it. The moment you began to calibrate your reactions or doubt the reality of what was happening, you were already halfway out of the trap.
"My little boy, you're doing so well," Petunia praised Dudley. "Harry told me you're helping him improve his English. You're very clever. I'm proud of you, and I'm glad you're getting along with your cousin."
Dudley beamed with a pleased smile, reminding me a little of Chōji as a child. I winked at him and suddenly felt strangely light.
Literally.
"Ah-ah-ah! What's happening to me?" I squeaked, nearly losing my glasses. I had jumped several meters into the air before, but I had never simply floated like a balloon.
The Dursleys stared up at me with their mouths slightly open.
"Potter, come down this instant!" Vernon-san roared, almost managing to retain his composure.
"How?" I asked, waving my arms uselessly as I tried to land.
"Grab this!" Dudley held a broom up to me, and they pulled me back down to the floor.
Petunia-san had gone pale. With trembling hands, she poured herself a glass of water and drank it noisily. It seemed such a dramatic 'performance' had never happened in front of the entire family before. And I had accidentally rattled all the family skeletons.
"How did you do that?" my cousin asked.
"I don't know," I answered honestly, gripping the chair tightly. All of us turned our eyes toward Aunt Petunia.
Well, this would be interesting. How would she explain her way out of this, and how would my fate change in a family that had been condi... enchanted to reject displays of magic? At least I had managed to finish dinner. Being punished on an empty stomach was no fun at all...