Vernon's fingers hovered above the parchment like it might bite. Which, to be fair, wasn't entirely out of the question—magical contracts have been known to react poorly to dishonesty.
I watched him carefully, the tip of my quill tapping lightly against the countertop, one eye on the Muggle contract and the other on the magical one still shimmering faintly beside it.
"Just a signature," I said lightly. "Here... and here. No need to read all the clauses. I've already explained them."
Hermione coughed loudly from the lounge.
"He can read them if he wants," she called without looking up.
"Of course," I said with a dazzling smile. "If he wants."
Vernon squinted at the magical scroll like it owed him money. "This one won't—won't curse me or anything, will it?"
"Only if you try to break the terms," I said honestly. "And even then, it's more of a... spiritual migraine than a full curse."
Vernon snorted, folding his arms. "You're expecting me to believe this glowing scroll won't blow up my kitchen or turn me into a frog?"
"Mr. Dursley, I get it," I said, hands raised. "You don't trust magic. Frankly, I wouldn't either if my only exposure involved exploding letters and house-elf sabotage. But I promise, this isn't a trap."
"You're a wizard. All of it's a trap."
"I was raised by Muggles," I said calmly. "Normal people. And even if I wasn't, I'm not here to twist your life into a broomstick knot. I'm offering you something that makes all this—" I gestured around vaguely, "—less intrusive. Less miserable. For you, and for everyone else."
He didn't speak. Just stared.
"I can't change what he is. But I can remove him for half the summer break. Quietly. Legally. Safely. Less magic in your house. less letters. less mess."
Vernon glanced at the scroll again. "And you swear this thing won't curse me?"
"You have my word," I said. "And the word of a child raised by your kind. Besides... Harry probably doesn't want to be here any more than you want him here. We both know that. This deal just makes it easier—for him, and for you."
He grunted, still clearly skeptical—but no longer shaking with outrage.
"And this one's Muggle-legal?" he asked, tapping the paper Hermione had notarized with a faux law firm seal I may or may not have commissioned in advance.
"As real as your taxes," I said.
"Hmph." Vernon pulled the Muggle contract toward him and actually read it from start to finish, his eyes narrowing as he moved down each line. "Looks... surprisingly professional," he grunted. "Who notarized this?"
"My parents," Hermione said from the lounge without missing a beat. "Both Muggles. One's a Notary of Her Majesty's Kingdom."
"Upstanding citizens of the Crown," I added helpfully.
Vernon snorted but didn't argue. Finally, he picked up his cheap plastic pen, signed the Muggle contract, then paused, glancing again at the magical scroll.
With another grumble, he signed that one too and wiped his hand like the parchment had left a film.
"It's done," I said cheerfully, carefully rolling up both documents by hand. I slid the magical one into the inside pocket of my coat and passed the Muggle one to Pennywhistle, who tucked it into his briefcase with a professional nod. No flashes, no sparks—just paperwork sealed the old-fashioned way.
The moment Vernon grumbled his way back upstairs to yell something incomprehensible at Dudley, Hermione turned on me.
"Sky."
"Yes?"
"You just legally negotiated a child out of a home."
"Technically, half of one," came a voice from the hallway—quiet, tired. Harry stepped into view, arms folded, eyes shadowed with exhaustion. "I still have to suffer the presence of this place for part of the holidays."
Hermione and I both turned. He had clearly been standing just around the corner, listening since she walked in. His voice was flat, not angry—just drained, like someone too tired to hold on to bitterness."
Hermione said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You know what I mean."
I tilted my head. "Are you upset because I manipulated him, or because it worked?"
She didn't answer right away.
"I'm upset," she said finally, "that it had to be done at all. But... I'm glad you did it. I just don't like that it came so easily."
"Trust me," I said, exhaling slowly. "None of this came easy."
Harry gave me a long, tired look, then asked quietly, "You're going to tell me what's going on now, right?"
"Of course."
We stepped out into the backyard. It was dark out, and the stars were shining. The air was quiet and cool. A few metal chairs sat near the grass, and Harry picked one and sat down, staring up at the sky. He looked tired and confused, like he didn't know what to feel.
"Hey," I said, crouching beside him.
He didn't look over. "Are they mad?"
"Only in the ways that already existed."
That got a snort, which I took as permission to continue.
"I made a deal with them. You'll be spending half your holidays with me. Starting now."
He blinked. "You did what?"
"I used diplomacy, wit, a fake law firm, and two types of contracts. One of them might be a little cursed."
He stared at me. "Why?"
"Because no one else has."
That shut him up good.
"Also, you get to sleep in a real bed. Possibly even near sunlight. It's all very controversial."
"I... I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to," I said. "Just know that you'll be here a lot less from now on. I couldn't take you away completely—there are some controversial technicalities on Dumbledore's end that stop me from doing that."
He looked over, frowning slightly. "What kind of technicalities?"
I shook my head. "Not my secret to tell. What matters is I've done everything I can to lessen how much time you have to suffer here. I know it's not perfect... but it's something.""
He looked at me then. Really looked. And nodded.
"Thanks."
I stood. "Careful, Harry. Keep saying things like that and I might start having a reputation."
Hermione leaned on the patio door, arms crossed, silhouetted by the kitchen light as she called out with a faint smirk.
"Too late."