WHENEVER THE DURSLEYS HAD COMPANY, Harry remembered that he had to find a place within the household (usually the cupboard) and remain there as quiet as possible until the guests were gone. On the occasion where he was allowed to be present for whoever was visiting, he wasn't allowed to speak unless spoken to. No one ever came to see him, so Harry never really understood how to conduct himself around groups of people with the exception of just being quiet. But as Uncle Charlus claimed, all the people that had suddenly arrived were there to see him.

Immediately, he was flooded with happy greetings from people he had never met before. They all seemed so overjoyed to see him, very similar to his uncle's reaction when they had first met. In all honesty, it was a bit overwhelming for Harry to go from being hidden away from the world to being the centre of attention so quickly.

"I know I didn't get to introduce myself properly earlier," Sirius said to him, " mainly because we were short for time. But I'm your Uncle Sirius, one of your godfathers. I'm married to your Uncle Charlus."

The pure innocence of a child was heartwarming for the couple to experience because while they had faced plenty of judgement over the years, Harry's initial reaction was to smile. Having Sirius married to Charlus didn't mean anything to him except for the fact that he had two uncles that he didn't have before and he was completely fine with that. When he looked in the direction of the other young man that stood off to the side, Harry wondered something out loud.

"Are you another uncle?"

"Well," Remus replied, a humble blush reaching across the tops of his cheeks, " I am an old friend of your father and-"

"He's one of your uncles, Harry," Sirius cut him off, " that's your Uncle Remus. But you can call him Uncle Moony if you like."

Remus only replied with a chuckle and a nod of his head. He would gladly accept the title of being an uncle to Harry. After all, James had been the closest to what he figured it would be like having a sibling, along with the other Marauders.

And Harry was quick to catch on that everyone in the room was considered to be a member of his family as he turned his attention to Maeve, who stood idly to the side to let the others converse with Harry first.

"That means that you're my aunt, right?"

Very similar to Remus' reaction, Maeve went to shake her head and politely tell Harry that she was just a friend of the family. But Charlus and Sirius were clearly having none of it as they nodded their heads in confirmation. She had put in just as much effort in hopes of getting Harry back and if she planned on remaining in their lives, it seemed only right that she was given an honorary title of being an aunt.

"You can call me Maeve," she told Harry, " and it's very nice to meet you. Can I ask you to do me a favour?"

Curious as to what she would ask of him, Harry nodded his head and watched as Maeve smiled before backing away from him. She made it a good distance, pressing her back against the wall and held up her hand, holding up a few fingers.

"Can you tell me how many fingers I'm holding up?"

"Uh," Harry squinted to see and made out what seemed to be three fingers out of the blurry image. "Three?"

"Maeve, what's wrong?" Charlus asked, his quivering with worry. But he was met with a reassuring smile.

"It's nothing serious," Maeve replied, "Harry is just near-sighted from what I can see for myself. I've noticed him squinting a lot. Tell me, Harry, do you have trouble seeing things if they're a little far away from you?"

Harry glanced around the room, fearful of saying the wrong thing. He remembered how he couldn't see the board when he was in school and how that had led to trouble. He certainly wasn't looking for a repeat of that scenario. Slowly nodding his head, Harry answered yes before Maeve told him to relax.

"No need to worry, Harry, it just means that you'll need glasses so you can see better."

"Well, there's no doubt that he's James' son," he heard Sirius say under his breath, " he was as blind as a bat without his glasses."

However, it was Charlus that didn't look amused at all, even at the mentioning of his brother. If Harry couldn't see well, it had been the responsibility of the Dursleys to see that he was fit with proper glasses to help, but instead, they more than likely ignored that as well. He remembered Harry telling him of the time where he turned his teacher's hair blue, how she thought he was being difficult, when in reality, Harry couldn't see properly.

But Harry couldn't differentiate who his uncle's anger was directed towards, leaving him to frown.

"You're not angry at me, are you?"

All eyes fell on Charlus as he appeared confused at the question, his expression softening right away.

"What? No, I'm not, Harry. I'm not angry with you at all. I'm just disappointed with how you've been treated by other adults. But don't you worry, we're going to get you a pair of glasses as soon as possible. You just need to wait a little while."

"So, do I get a turn to introduce myself?" Lyall asked, breaking the silence. Harry turned around with a smile and squinted once more. Since he had guessed all of his other family members correctly, he was sure he could determine who the older man was to him.

"You must be my grandfather!"

It was Remus' turn to let out a small laugh until his father shot him a look. Perhaps Lyall was looking forward to a title of being a "great uncle" or something along those lines, but he had never anticipated being called a grandfather so quickly. He looked slightly worried as he turned to the other adults in the room.

"I don't look that old, do I?"

With all the new voices echoing in Grimmauld Place, Kreacher was not pleased. He was annoyed and tired after tending to his mistress' needs with her deteriorating health, but more annoyed with her seemingly changing stance on her usual firm beliefs. The mistress he knew would never allow the likes of mudbloods and blood-traitors in her home. She had been firm about it for decades and suddenly, she was rather quiet on the matter. And when Kreacher tried to curse their presence for her, she told him to be quiet.

He had a feeling that she was further losing the battle with her health, leaving her to become softer in her demeanour. It didn't help that she refused to sleep since the arrival of their 'welcomed' guests downstairs. Kreacher offered to bring her a sleeping draught to help, but she refused. Her eyes focused on the ceiling above her as she seemed to be listening to everything that was being said.

Finally, after what felt like forever, she spoke again.

"Kreacher, go downstairs and start preparing dinner," Walburga told him.

"What is Mistress in the mood to eat? Kreacher can prepare some sou-"

"I'm not hungry."

He didn't dare question her sanity at the moment, but Kreacher was definitely confused. He was certain he had heard her request to start making dinner, but why would he do such a thing if she didn't have an appetite?"

"Mistress, I'm afraid Kreacher is confused by your request. Mistress has not been feeling well lately. She has asked Kreacher to make dinner when she doesn't have an appetite."

"I've never painted you to be the stupid type, Kreacher," Walburga huffed. "I'm asking you to prepare a meal for those that are downstairs-"

"But Mistress!" Kreacher cried out in protest, only to realise that he had spoken out of place. He proceeded to start ramming his head against one of the bedposts, scolding himself for such behaviour. Walburga didn't say anything for a moment until she ordered him to stop. 

"Do as I say, Kreacher."

She let out a yawn before slowly turning on her side, her back left facing him so that he couldn't argue any further. Kreacher stood in place for a few seconds longer, completely bewildered. First, she was allowing those people to intrude in her home, and now she was asking that he make a meal for them?

"GO!"

"Yes, Mistress!"

Harry had a million questions, especially when it came to the idea of magic. He wanted to know everything in such a short period of time, but he was told that it would be impossible to cover everything perhaps even in his lifetime. There was so much to learn and so much left undiscovered. He knew first and foremost, that he wanted a wand, but Uncle Charlus told him that he wouldn't be able to get one until he turned eleven. He guessed he could wait until then and while he wanted to ask more, the growl of his stomach stopped him as it echoed loudly in the room.

Maeve was the first to notice as she asked him if he was hungry and Harry nodded eagerly. He was thankful that he ate as much as he did when it came to the Dursleys leftovers, but they weren't easily fooled. Harry had to be reminded over and over that he should be grateful for every meal that was given to him. And he was, but it was hard not to feel somewhat jealous while he watched his Uncle Vernon and Dudley stuff their faces at the dinner table every night.

"We should have thought about getting food," Maeve sighed, " we completely neglected that aspect. I had food back at my flat, but-"

"Dinner is served."

Harry turned around at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, only to see an odd little creature standing in the doorway. Caught off guard, Harry let out a frightened little yelp before hiding behind Charlus. Between the bulbous nose, the bloodshot eyes, and folds of skin that seemed to hang off the creature along with its massive ears, Harry had never seen anything like it.

"Wh-what is that?"

"Kreacher!" Sirius growled. "What are you doing down here? Go back upstairs-"

"Sirius," Charlus reached out and touched one of his hands lightly. The smell in the air was quite wonderful compared to the mildew smell they had been putting up with since arriving.  "Wait a second. Kreacher, did you make dinner?"

Looking completely unamused, Kreacher glared up at Charlus. "That's what I said. Fix those ears of yours, you filthy-"

"KREACHER!"

While the others anticipated Sirius losing his temper once more and scolding the house-elf for talking to Charlus as he did, it was actually Walburga's voice that called out from upstairs. Harry didn't know there had been another person upstairs, leaving him to grip onto the back of Charlus' robes.

Kreacher looked ready to explode from having to restrain himself, but he remained obedient to his mistress.

"Mistress has requested that dinner be made. It has been served in the kitchen."

Poking his head out from behind his uncle's body, Harry looked over the one they called Kreacher. While Charlus continued to tell Sirius to calm down, Harry could smell the dinner that Kreacher had announced and it smelled delicious. As hungry as he was, he didn't dare to be picky. He didn't care what was made or who had made it, Harry just wanted to eat.

Taking a brave step towards Kreacher, Harry offered a faint smile, remembering what the Dursleys had told him. He had to be grateful for every meal offered to him and even if Kreacher was scary looking, Harry couldn't argue that he hadn't done a nice thing by cooking a meal.

"Thank you for cooking dinner, Kreacher."

Kreacher looked over at Harry and stared at him for a moment or two as if he was lost in a memory. But he quickly snapped out of it, shaking his head that was followed by a disgruntled sound before muttering something under his breath and then hurrying up the stairs to escape.