Sunday, July 6th, 7:30 AM

  42 East Lane, West Horsly, Guildford District, Surrey County, UK

  James opened his eyes. And smiled. Right up there was the very slightly off-white spackled ceiling of the Dursley's guest room, not the dark wood of his room at 12 Grimmauld Place. Not that he didn't love his room. It had belonged to his..., great-god-uncle, (or something like that), Sirius Black. James loved the Muggle posters, and the faded Gryffindor banner, and the picture of the motorcycle that Grandad Weasley had secretly promised would be his one day. And wouldn't Mum throw a wobbly the first time he rode up on it? He sighed, thinking of that far-off happy day. I'm a lucky boy, he thought. In so many ways. When he thought of himself seriously, which was seldom, he saw himself as the combination of three Great Men. They were Sirius, whose name he carried proudly, and his uncles, Ron and George.

  This was his second day waking up in this bed, and the feeling was exactly the same as yesterday. Freedom. Freedom from responsibility to rebel against. Freedom from the family he loved so much that it made him crazy. Freedom from the craving for attention that drowned out everything except the next prank, or bit of destruction, or useless arguing just for argument's sake. Trying to get a rise out of Albus, who he worried might get picked on if he didn't toughen up. Trying to get a laugh out of Lily, whose overprotective instincts made her act as if she was his older, not younger sister.

  But not today. Today, and for the next (almost) two months, he had nothing to do except hang out with his best friend. He thought back to yesterday, and smiled even wider. That had been so bloody cool. Helping Erik, (who looked more like a Weasley than some of his Weasley relatives did), and having Erik treat him like just another guy. And fixing up that poor washer so she looked as good as new. James frowned a little. How could people be such gits? He had asked Erik if those morons were due any payback.

  Erik had smiled, slapped him on the back, and said, "Mate, you got nuffin' to worry 'bout. Them tossers hev been referred to an expert." Then Eric and Harmonia had exchanged one of those smiles, the ones that had way too many teeth showing to be called 'happy.'

  James checked that freaky clock on his bedside table. I mean, it just sits there and shows the time. It's gotta be up to something. Iris' Mom had told him to sleep as late as he liked, and he thought he was going to do exactly that, but...

  He could hear the household waking up, and that made him want to be up, too. He was about to just jump into his jeans and trainers and scoot, but his eye was caught by the door that led to his own, private bathroom. Uncle Dud said it was an 'efficiency' bath, whatever that meant.

  Well, he reasoned, if a man has his very own bath, it's a shame not to use it. About 15 minutes and some fumbling with unfamiliar fixtures later, he had showered, brushed his teeth, put on clean clothes, and was ready to go. He was about to open the door when he spotted his dirty clothes, still laying by the hamper.

  "Well?" he demanded. The hamper ignored him. With a sigh, he picked up his stuff and put it in himself. He then gave the hamper a little kick, to let it know what he thought of its work ethic. With one last suspicious glance at the clock, he left the room.

  He followed his ears and his nose to the kitchen where Emily had four pans and the oven going all at once.

  "That smells great, Auntie Em! What are we having"

  "Sunday is Family Day, so we're just having a light bite to get us going." she said briskly. "Sausages, back bacon, eggs, tomatoes, mushrooms, fried bread, and beans."

  James' rumbling stomach voiced its approval. "Anything I can do to help?" he asked.

  Emily took a quick look around the kitchen. "There," she said, pointing with one of her oversized wooden knitting needles. "Those bin bags need to go out to the wheelie bin. It's around the side of the house to the left." She returned to stirring the beans.

  James looked at the bin bags, considering. They were a good size, nothing he couldn't handle, but he would have to make two trips. Maybe if he used..., no, better not.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Without turning around, Emily said, "Iris tells me you can lift things with your magic. Why don't you try that?"

  James' sense of reality did a Back One-and-a Half Somersault with Four-and One-Half Twists, then splashed down into his guts. Had he heard right?

  "Ah," he said cautiously. "Sometimes it goes a little wrong...?"

  She shrugged. "You'll never get better if you don't practice. If you make a mess, you can clean it up, right?'

  James almost gasped at this insight. He could clean up his messes, couldn't he? Why hadn't he ever thought of that before?

  He turned and faced the bags determinedly.

  "I'd open the door first," advised Emily, who still hadn't looked up from her cooking.

  Ah, James thought. Good idea. Very good idea. He opened the door and propped it with the smooth stone kept for that purpose. He went back in and returned his attention to the bags. Levicorpus, he thought. The bags' weight started coming up off the floor, and then they slipped to the side a few inches. He let go, and got ready to try again.

  Emily looked over her shoulder at him. "Why are you sticking your tongue out the corner of your mouth? Is it part of the magic?"

  "Uh, no," James said. He hadn't even realized he was doing it.

  "Well, I don't know about magic, but in Yoga, if we want a movement to balance forward, or up, or whatever, we align our whole body to that cardinal direction."

  "Huh," muttered James. He squared his body toward the bags, pulled his tongue back between his teeth, with the tip touching the roof of his mouth. Levicorpus.

  The bags came straight up this time. Discrete things inside them started shifting position.

  Emily's quiet voice did not disturb his concentration. "It might work better if you thought of the bags as one solid thing, or even better, as two separate solid things, so they don't disturb each other.

  "But they aren't solid," James whispered, eyes not moving from the slightly squirming sacks.

  Emily's cool, calm voice continued. "I know that. You know that. But do the bags know that?"

  James almost laughed out loud. Of course not, he thought contemptuously. Stupid bags. The bags separated and became as still as boulders. He started out the door with them.

  The bags started to rotate. "They're trying to turn over," he said quietly.

  "Is that part of the spell you used?" came the reply.

  "Yes."

  "Can you take that part out, and just keep the part you need?"

  Yes, thought James. It's just a slightly different word, which is..., Leviosa, No. WIngardium Leviosa.

  Inside his head, there was an impression of a Swish and Flick. The bin bags righted, and preceded him through the back garden and around the corner of the house. James got the wheelie bin open, moved the bags over it, and let go his magic with a slight gasp. The bags dropped with a subdued clatter, and he closed the lid.

  Wow. He felt a little light-headed, but it passed. He headed back for the kitchen.

  "Thank you," Emily said as he walked in the door. "I just hate that chore. Dudley isn't too fond of it either. He was spoiled by having your Dad around to do all the scut work." Her grin was remarkably evil for such a quiet woman. "I put the kibosh on that, good and proper. He still teases Iris it's going to be her job, when she finally decides to grow up."

  "You're welcome," James said, and added, a little pridefully. "As long as I'm here, you don't have to worry about it any more!"

  "Well, thank you very much, Mister Potter." She put a filled plate in front of him, and said casually, "You know, if you practice enough, you might be able to do the whole thing without even leaving your chair."

  I bet I could, thought James. Then the first bite of sausage passed his lips, and Thought picked up his redundancy paperwork and took the rest of the day off.

  ***

  Dudley and Iris came in at the same time, his hand resting fondly on her shoulder. Iris made a pouty face when she saw James had almost cleaned his plate.

  "I wanted to eat with you," she said crossly.

  James looked at her, bewildered, looked down at his almost empty plate, and then looked over at Emily, who was bringing his second plate along with first plates for each of the others. How she was making that look easy, he had no idea.

  "Who told you I was through eating?" he demanded. Iris blushed a little and giggled. Dudley clapped James on the shoulder, (as gently as he knew how), and laughed.

  "A lad after my own heart! But, remember, James. 'Moderation in all things...,'"

  "'...Especially Moderation!'" chorused all three Dursleys. James laughed out loud at Iris' eye roll. She grinned.

  "Who has two thumbs and the dorkiest parents in the world?' She gestured at her chest with the afore-mentioned appendages. "This Girl!"

  James shook his head. "We should have a contest," he muttered.

  Emily brought her own plate over, and they settled into a quiet Food Appreciation Society Meeting. Once the first pangs of hunger were assuaged, Emily spoke up.

  "James took out the garbage for me this morning."

  Dudley turned a keen eye on James. "Did he, now?" He had a speculative look in his eye.

  "And," Emily continued, "...he has volunteered to take on the chore for the rest of the summer."

  "Oh? Oh!" said Dudley. He assumed a portentous face. "Well, that's different. I don't know about that, my boy. That's one of my chores, you know, and one of my favorites. A peaceful walk, time communing with nature, I don't know if I can..."

  James interrupted. "Uncle Dud?"

  Dudley stopped, one finger still in the air, ready to make a point. "Yes, James?"

  "It's no good. Auntie Em already grassed you up."

  .