Harry Potter : A family??

The hallway smelled of eggs and bleach.

Maximus Moriarty stood just inside the threshold of Number Four, Privet Drive, his eyes tracking every detail like a man scanning a battlefield. Beige wallpaper. Plastic flowers. Polished shoes lined in neat rows. Everything screamed normal — aggressively so.

Evelyn stood beside him, still and silent.

Vernon Dursley stared up at them, red-faced, sweat blooming across his brow.

"Now see here," he began, trying to puff out his chest, "I don't know what—"

"Silence," Maximus said, without raising his voice.

The word hit like a curse.

Vernon froze. Petunia, peeking from behind the kitchen doorway, went pale.

"I am here for my nephew," Maximus said. "Where is he?"

"No idea who you're talking about," Vernon muttered.

Evelyn stepped forward. Slowly. Her eyes locked on his with the kind of look that had made warlords flinch.

"Where. Is. Harry?"

A small sound came from under the staircase.

Maximus turned. His eyes narrowed on the tiny door beneath the stairs — bolted shut with two heavy locks and a mail slot that had been sealed with duct tape.

His heart sank.

No.

No, they didn't.

He remembers now, the words he just skimmed through when reading a novel, the scenes he saw when watching a movie. he used to laugh, saying things like 'character development' for such suffering, but now this suffering is being inflicted on his flesh and blood on his 10-year-old nephew. 

He walked to it — slowly, carefully — and knelt. With a flick of his hand, the locks disintegrated into dust. The door creaked open.

Inside was a mattress the size of a coffin, tattered sheets, and a tiny figure curled against the far wall.

Maximus's breath caught.

The boy was small. Too small. Bones visible under his oversized shirt. Hair messy, eyes wide and afraid.

Harry Potter looked up at him from the dark.

"…Who are you?" the boy whispered.

Maximus didn't speak at first.

He couldn't.

The child's voice was cautious. Resigned. Not the fear of being hit — the expectation of being ignored.

"I'm…" Maximus swallowed. "I'm your uncle, Harry."

Harry blinked.

"Do I have one?"

Maximus felt Evelyn's hand on his shoulder — grounding him.

"You do now," she said gently.

Ten minutes later,

Harry sat at the kitchen table, legs dangling off the chair, sipping hot cocoa Evelyn had conjured with a flick of her wand. The Dursleys had been banished to the living room, magically gagged and sealed inside a silence ward.

Maximus sat across from the boy, hands folded.

"Do you know who you are, Harry?"

Harry nodded slowly. "Harry Potter. I'm… a freak, I think."

"Who told you that?"

"Aunt Petunia."

Maximus's jaw flexed.

"And do you know who your parents were?"

Harry nodded again. "Mum and Dad. They died in a car crash."

"No, we are wizards, Harry, and as for your parents," Maximus said softly. "They were murdered. By a dark wizard. And they died protecting you. They loved you so much."

Harry stared at him, cup halfway to his lips.

"…They did?"

Evelyn kneeled beside him, brushing a lock of hair from his face.

"You're famous, kiddo," she said gently. "But more importantly — you're loved. Starting today."

Harry didn't reply.

He just stared at the woman, then the man.

Then back again.

Later that night,

In the guest room upstairs, Harry sat on the bed Maximus had transfigured from a footstool. It was massive. Plush. Blankets were warm and fluffy like clouds.

He held a stuffed lion Evelyn had conjured. It blinked sleepily at him.

Evelyn tucked him in while Maximus leaned against the doorframe, arms folded.

"Why'd you come for me?" Harry finally asked.

Maximus stepped forward, kneeling beside the bed.

"Because we were given a second chance," he said quietly. "And we chose you."

Harry looked away. "What if I'm not worth it?"

Evelyn's voice was steady. "Then we'll stay until you believe you are."

A pause.

Then a whisper:

"…Can I come with you?"

Maximus reached out and placed his hand over Harry's.

"You're already ours, Harry. Now rest for a little bit while we talk with your uncle and aunt."

Back downstairs

The silence spell around the living room dropped.

Petunia stood frozen, lips trembling. Vernon was already shouting — a wall of red-faced noise and righteous bluster — but Maximus ignored him.

His eyes were on her.

"…You're Petunia."

She flinched like she'd been slapped.

"I am your brother," he said, voice low. "Half, by blood. Full, by magic. And that boy upstairs is our family."

Petunia looked away. "I didn't ask for this."

"No," Maximus said. "You just accepted it. Let it rot. You locked him in a cupboard and told yourself it was kindness."

"He's dangerous," she hissed. "He does things — wrong things! And we were trying to protect—"

"Protect what?" he snapped, suddenly stepping forward. "Your pride? YOUR EGO? Your dinner schedule? You let him grow up starving beneath your feet."

Vernon opened his mouth.

Maximus turned — quick as a whip — and with a flick of his hand, silenced him again.

"This is not your moment," he said coldly.

Then he turned back to Petunia.

"Do you hate Lily that much?"

She blinked hard, jaw twitching.

"You think I didn't know?" Maximus said. "Our father abandoned you both. He chose the bloodline over your mother. And I didn't know about any of you until now — but I feel the blood in my veins. I know the truth."

Petunia's voice cracked. "She got everything. Powers. A wizard husband. A son. Fame. And I got this."

Maximus's eyes softened — just slightly.

"And you resented the boy she left behind."

Tears welled in her eyes, but didn't fall.

"I don't care if you hate me," Maximus said. "But if you had loved him, even just a little, I'd be shaking your hand right now."

Silence.

Then, a small voice from the hallway.

"…Mum?"

They all turned.

Dudley Dursley, awkward and heavy, peeked in from behind the wall. His eyes darted between his parents and the strangers in long coats.

Maximus studied him for a long moment.

"You've bullied him," he said.

Dudley shuffled. "He's… a freak."

"So are you and so are we and so is every human living," Evelyn said gently from the doorway, arms folded. "Differences exist; they are meant to be. We differ in skin color, in thought, in speech, in looks; even our breathing pattern is unique. Difference should breed acceptance, not bigotry and hate."

Maximus crouched so his eyes were level with Dudley's.

"You're a child. But you chose to treat him like dirt. So here's your warning: never lay hands on him again. Not in jest. Not in memory. Not in spirit."

Dudley swallowed. Then, to everyone's surprise, he nodded.

Maximus gave a short nod. "Good. Keep it that way."

Evelyn placed a hand briefly on his shoulder. "That's a start, Dudley."

Petunia reached out, as if to touch Maximus's arm — and hesitated.

"…Will you hurt us?" she asked.

"No," Maximus said simply. "We're not like you. But we are taking Harry."

Vernon immediately exploded into sputters. "You can't just take him! That boy — he's ours!"

Maximus didn't even look at him.

He pointed a finger, and the Moriarty crest burned into the air above him.

"By blood, I am his guardian. By law, I am his ward. By oath, I am his sword."

The room shook. Pictures fell off the walls.

He took Evelyn's hand.

They went upstairs and took harry who still hasn't slept yet.

Then they just walked out without another word — Harry bundled in Evelyn's arms, the lion clutched tightly to his chest.

Later, under the stars

On the edge of the moors near Moriarty Castle, Harry stared at the night sky in wonder as the castle gates opened before them, the crest glowing above the archway.

"Is that… where we live?"

Maximus nodded. "For now. Until you're ready to choose where your own story begins."

Harry grinned. "It looks like a fortress."

Maximus smirked.

"It is."

Evelyn glanced at Maximus as Harry rushed ahead, his energy returning with every step.

"You okay?"

He nodded.

Then whispered:

"…I think I will be."

To be continued...

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Author here,

What do you think of the story so far? Like it? Oh and please give ideas and point out illogical things happening so I can fix them