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SIYE Time:8:05 on 29th March 2024
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Saving Harry
By The Seeker

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Category: Pre-OotP, Alternate Universe, Buried Gems
Characters:All
Genres: Angst, Drama, Romance
Warnings: Violence
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 1040
Summary: What if JKR had never intended the Harry Potter series to be for children? How would Harry’s time at the Dursleys been written? This story focuses on the years Harry lived in the cupboard under the stairs at number four Privet Drive, as well as his first appearance at Hogwarts. The treatment he receives during his decade there is not described in fairy tale terms. The boy who initially develops is not the Harry Potter we know. The story is liberally AU, with different personality traits, events, and relationships used to reflect the changes in this very different Harry and the environment in which he grew up. In the end, through the assistance of a certain redheaded young lady, Harry ultimately finds the life he should have had and rediscovers the qualities he always had inside of him. While I am not a psychologist or child development expert, the symptoms, actions, and behaviors portrayed reflect the realities of child abuse. Appropriate disclosures will be contained in the Author’s Notes above the chapter when warranted.
Hitcount: Story Total: 340154; Chapter Total: 16386
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
A sincere thanks to everyone who voted for Saving Harry in the January DSTAs and who have already nominated the story for this month.

My eternal appreciation to the wonderful person and beta, cwarbeck, for polishing my plebeian prose, making sense out of my eccentric attempts at punctuation, and correcting my missteps with the British language.




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Molly stared at the retreating back of the newest addition to her family. She took a few steps towards the stairs, then stopped and turned to Professor McGonagall, confusion evident on her face. “Do you know what happened?”

Minerva shook her head. “Ginny was staring at Harry when I arrived. After I greeted her, she broke down and ran up the stairs. Neither said a word once I arrived. I doubt much, if anything, was said prior to my arrival, because I left only seconds after Harry Floo’d here.” The professor paused, looking a bit hesitant. “Ginny’s initial expression was one of anger and hurt.”

Molly briefly closed her eyes. “Something’s going on. I need to speak to Ginny and get to the bottom of this. The last thing that boy needs is a reaction like this.”

McGonagall began to speak, stopped and pursed her lip. “Normally, I prefer letting the students work out their problems on their own, but this time is an exception. I want to talk with Harry, if he will let me. I am concerned he will think whatever happened is his fault.”

The two witches silently walked up the stairs, Molly stopping at Ginny’s door, and the professor lightly knocking on Harry’s.

Harry’s head snapped up at the sound at this door. His stomach dropped when realization set in. They’ve come to tell me I can’t stay here any more. I’m too much trouble. Even Ginny hates me. God, I hope they won’t send me back to the Dursleys’.

“Harry?”

He looked at the door in surprise. It’s Professor McGonagall’s voice.

He walked to the door and turned the lock, his head nearly resting on his chest. Harry opened the door and backed away.

“May I come in?” the professor asked, noticing the boy’s downcast demeanour.

He nodded silently, not looking up.

The professor walked over to the chair in front of the desk and sat down. Harry shuffled over to the dresser, feeling exhausted and numb. He opened the top drawer and began to remove his clothes.

“Mr Potter, what are you doing?” The professor’s tone was puzzled, not accusatory.

Harry’s head shot up. “P . . . packing to leave.” His turned back to the dresser and removed more clothing.

The professor’s eyebrows rose. “You no longer wish to stay here?”

The boy turned towards the professor so quickly she started in surprise. He looked at her in confusion. “D . . . don’t they want m . . . me to leave? Isn’t that why you’re here?”

Sadness swept over the professor before she had the chance to control her reaction. She recovered quickly. “No, Harry, that’s not why I am here,” she said softly. “I only wanted to hear what happened. The Weasleys do not want you to leave.”

The professor’s statements shocked Harry so greatly all he could do was stare at her. They don’t want me to leave? They’re not mad at me? Wait, she called me Harry, not Mr Potter. His expression reflected his astonishment.

“Do you have any idea why Ginny reacted the way she did?” Again, Professor McGonagall’s tone showed concern, not criticism.

He looked at the professor. “No.” He shook his head, his face a mask of concentration.

“Did either of you say anything before I arrived?”

“No.” He lowered his head again. “Ginny was m . . . mad.”

Professor McGonagall nodded her head, thinking back to when she stepped out of the fireplace. Her next words sounded like she was talking to herself. “She started crying only after I told her ‘we missed you this morning.’”

The professor’s and her student’s eyes brightened in understanding.

Harry spoke first. “I wanted her to c . . . come with us,” he paused and took a deep breath, “but her pres . . . ent…”

“Do you think Ginny wanted to go with us?” the professor asked.

Harry nodded his head, a crestfallen expression on his face. I should have said something to her.

McGonagall asked gently, “How do you think Ginny felt when she found we did not invite her?”

Harry’s head sunk closer to his chest. “Hurt,” he whispered. His body shuddered. “M . . . mad.”

“Harry, I am sorry to have put you in this position.”

His head snapped up and he stared at the professor, his forehead furrowed.

“I should have thought of this and asked if you wanted someone to accompany us. I hope you will accept my apology.”

Harry continued to gape at the witch. I don’t understand her. Why is she apologizing to me? I created the problem, not her. Is she trying to trick me? The boy’s eyes narrowed. I don’t feel anything negative coming from her.

The witch could feel the intense deliberation rolling off Harry. “Harry, by not asking you and not talking with Ginny, I left her feeling we did not want her to accompany us. Does that make sense?”

Harry closed his eyes and swiped his hand across his damp forehead. I should have said something. I’m the one to blame. I’m always wrong. Why do they even want me here? I always make trouble.

Harry’s legs felt like they could no longer hold him up, so he collapsed onto the bed. He shook his head. “It’s m . . . my fault.”

Minerva’s breath caught painfully, and her hand went to her chest until she finally was able to take a deep, cleansing breath. “Harry, may I come over to you?”

He raised his head and nodded, watching the witch slowly stand up and walk towards him. She kneeled several feet in front of the boy, so they were now at the same level. Before speaking, she considered what she was about to do. Merlin, I hope what I’m about to do will help the boy to understand and not send him further into his shell.

“Harry, I have a few questions I would like to ask you. I think they will help you understand some things about yourself. May I ask them?”

The boy’s head tilted slightly to the side as he stared at the witch. If she was going to do anything to me, she would have done it at Diagon Alley. If I don’t like the questions, I won’t answer.

He slowly nodded.

The witch’s voice was as soft and gentle as she could make it. “Did you say anything mean to Ginny?”

Harry’s eyes narrowed in concentration. We only talked that one time. I hardly said anything. She did most of the talking.

He shook his head. “No.”

“Did you want to hurt her feelings?”

“No!” The answer was ripped from his throat before he had a chance to think. His head dropped towards his chest once more.

“Did Ginny ask to come with us, but you said no?”

The boy looked at the professor in confusion and shook his head. Ginny didn’t say anything about going with us.

Minerva took a deep breath. “Then, how are you at fault?”

Harry jerked back feeling like a numbing jolt of electricity had accompanied the professor’s words. So many thoughts surged through his mind that none of them were clear. He spoke without thinking.

“I should have asked her to come. None of this would have happened if I had done that . . .”

The words stopped abruptly and his eyes widened. He felt trapped by the professor, by the walls closing in on him. Just before bolting from the room, Harry looked at the professor and stopped. She looks . . . so sad. Did I do that to her?

“Harry,” she whispered, “you had no idea Ginny wanted to go with us. I also did not consider that she would. She did not ask. You did not ask her only because you wanted to surprise her for her birthday.” The witch shook her head. “You are not at fault.”

Harry sat on the bed in shock. I don’t understand this.

“Harry?” the professor’s question startled the boy. “People, even good people, make mistakes, even when they do not intend to do so. Ginny is not at fault. I’m not at fault. And you certainly are not at fault. But what can we learn from this?”

The boy felt everything around him turning to a soft silver grey. But as soon as the cloud had formed around him, it dissipated.

Harry looked up. “We all should have talked to each other.”

A smile wreathed the professor’s face. “That is very perceptive, Harry. And may I add that no one bad would have responded the way you have.”

The boy looked at her sceptically. She doesn’t think I’m a bad person? But . . . A thought stopped him.

“We should talk with Ginny,” he said.

“That we should, Mr Potter. I think Miss Weasley would appreciate hearing what our thoughts were.”

Harry looked at the professor, his lips slightly upturned. Mr and Miss? She’s back to being the professor again. Good people can make mistakes, even adults. It doesn’t mean they’re bad. He exhaled heavily. This is going to be harder than I thought.

“Th . . . thank you, Professor.”

“You are welcome, Mr Potter. Shall we see if Miss Weasley is available?”

He nodded.

Before getting up, the professor pulled the books and supplies from her purse, returned them to their full size, and placed them in an orderly stack on the desk.

Finally, they both stood and moved towards the door.

*****


“Ginn y, may I come in?” Molly Weasley already had knocked on the door to her daughter’s bedroom but had received no response.

“Mum, go away, please.” Ginny’s voice sounded tired, almost defeated.

“We need to talk, sweetheart. It will help.”

Molly heard a sigh, then the shuffling of feet. Several seconds later, her daughter’s tear-stained face peered out of the partially opened door. Ginny sighed again, opened it wider, and returned to her bed, plopping down as if she were boneless.

Molly sat on the edge of the bed and absently brushed a stray bit of hair off Ginny’s face. “What happened down there?”

Molly’s words broke the dam that had been holding back Ginny’s thoughts and emotions.

“I was furious with Harry, because he didn’t ask me to go to Diagon Alley with him and Professor McGonagall. I thought he didn’t even think about me, that he couldn’t have cared less about little Ginny Weasley.

“I felt like I was being left behind, that he was ignoring me, just like my brothers have done forever. ‘Ginny’s too small, or too young, or a girl, or I could get hurt, or you’d be bloody angry . . . oh, ah . . . sorry . . . you’d be mad,’ so they’d go off and leave me behind. I felt that way this morning and it hurt, Mum. I thought Harry was different. We’d talked a bit, and I felt like, I don’t know, that we kind of were starting to be friends. I know he’s had problems. But, you know, after all these years of reading his stories, he’s finally here and talking with me — well, a little bit, at least. I guess I got carried away.

“Then, I got mad at myself for being mad at him. Does that make any sense? I thought that wasn’t fair. He doesn’t know how I feel about him, how I’ve thought about him since Dad first started reading his stories to me. So that made me feel worse that I was mad at him and I knew he didn’t know why. How could he know? Plus, he’s been treated so badly by those Muggles, so that made me feel even worse. Then, I started kicking myself for not even asking. I could have gone to Professor McGonagall or you if I didn’t want to ask Harry. But I didn’t say anything to anyone, so that upset me. How stupid! That meant no one knew what I wanted, so that made me even more mad with myself. And Diagon Alley’s always fun. I think it would have helped Harry if I had been there to sort of help him along, since all of this is new to him. And that made me sad, because he’s so lost. Everything has changed overnight for him, and it breaks my heart. That made me even more upset because if I had asked, he would have had someone else there with him, not that Professor McGonagall couldn’t handle it.

“All of that was going through my brain, so when Harry popped out of the fireplace I felt so bad I probably looked mad at him, when what I was feeling was numb, thinking I had made his trip worse by not doing something as simple as asking a stupid question. ‘Would you like me to go with you?’ How hard is that? When the professor said they missed me this morning, it felt like everything caved in on me and it was too much. The tears just started pouring out, and I didn’t want Harry to feel bad, so I ran away.

“And now you’re here, and I feel awful.”

Molly bit her lip to keep from laughing. She had been listening closely, nodding and making small noises in agreement, until the flood of words had ended. Oh my goodness! It’s a good thing I got to Ginny before Minerva or Harry did. I bet she’s been thinking about this all day, and my question brought all those thoughts tumbling out.

“Ginny, thanks for letting me know what you were thinking.” She paused and squeezed her daughter’s shoulder. “What do you think you should do now?”

Ginny’s eyes widened and she gulped. “I need to tell him what I was thinking. I sure hope he doesn’t think I’m mad at him.” She blushed. “Or that he’s mad at me.”

Molly smiled. “Then you know what to do.”

Ginny nodded her head in resignation. “He’s going to think I’m a silly girl, or worse, a hosepipe.”

Molly bit her lip again. “He needs to know what you were thinking, and he might even tell you what his thoughts were. Try to use fewer words when you talk with him than you just did with me. Give him a chance to respond. Okay?”

Ginny grinned. “Sure, Mum.”

A soft knock on the door startled the two witches.

*****


Mo lly bustled over to the door and opened it, a smile on her face. Ginny slowly followed her and glanced shyly at Professor McGonagall and Harry, who were standing in the hallway between the two bedrooms.

Molly looked expectantly at the professor.

Ginny’s apology, “I’m sorry, Harry,” was echoed by Harry’s “S . . . sorry.”

“I’m not mad . . .” Ginny’s words were interrupted by Harry’s admission.

“I should have . . .”

The two magical children stopped abruptly and stared at each other, while the two adult witches looked back and forth between the two children. Ginny put her hand to her mouth, as if she were trying to hold something back. Finally, her squeaks turned to twitters, then full laughs, as she smiled at Harry.

Harry had already hung his head, and his cheeks had begun to show the crimson colour of embarrassment. As Ginny’s laughter reached him, he looked up, his eyes narrowing and quickly becoming hard. His initial reaction dissipated as soon as he saw the expression on Ginny’s face, and the corners of his mouth curved slightly upward.

“You go ahead,” he said.

Ginny quickly calmed down, her concern about her reaction eased by Harry’s offer for her to speak. She took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry if I looked mad when you arrived, and I shouldn’t have run away like that.” Ginny ducked her head, a rosy blush beginning to bloom on her cheeks.

Molly started to say something, then stopped, first looking at Minerva, then following the professor’s eyes as she moved them to Harry.

“S’Okay,” he said quietly. He closed his eyes briefly, then focused his gaze on the floor between Ginny and him. “I wanted you to c . . . come . . .”

Ginny gasped, and Harry looked beseechingly at the professor. She nodded her head slightly.

“Miss Weasley, I owe you an apology.” Molly’s and Ginny’s eyebrows raced up their foreheads. “I should have thought to ask you and your mother if you wanted to accompany us. I hope you will forgive me for being so thoughtless.”

Ginny stared wide-eyed at the professor, before finally choking out her response. “Of course.” She looked down again. “I should have asked.”

Harry immediately knew what he had to say. “We all sh . . . should have said something.”

Three sets of eyes looked at the boy, but he only saw Ginny’s smile. She asked, “We’re okay?”

He nodded, suddenly feeling self-conscious when he realized all three witches were looking at him.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, drawing attention back to her. “I should be leaving now. Mr Potter, I enjoyed shopping with you.” She issued a tight-lipped smile. “I will contact you within a few days so you can meet with Professor Dumbledore at Hogwarts.” When the young boy’s eyes widened quickly, she added, “We want you to see your new school so you will have some familiarity with the layout prior to your arrival and that of the other students. It also will give you the opportunity to get to know the Headmaster better.”

A numb feeling sapped all the energy from the boy, causing his shoulders to slump. I really don’t want to talk with the Headmaster. A second thought came to him, and Harry looked at the professor. “Are any other st . . . students going early?”

The professor tilted her head towards the young boy. “No, Mr Potter. You will be the only one. Now, I must be leaving. I will speak with you in a few days. Good day, Miss Weasley.”

As the professor started down the stairs, Mrs Weasley turned to the kids. “Dinner will be ready in an hour.” Then, she followed McGonagall down the stairs.

Ginny looked at Harry with bright eyes. “I’m glad we got that cleared up. I’m sorry I made such a mess . . .”

Harry replied immediately. “You didn’t.” The strength of his response startled the girl. “Going to re . . . read.”

He quickly walked the few steps to his bedroom and closed the door. The sound of the lock being turned affected the girl the same as if he had slammed the door shut.

Ginny stared at it in disappointment, then went downstairs to help her mum with dinner.

*****


As soon as Harry locked the door, his body started shaking and his breathing came in shallow gasps. He staggered to the bed and sat down heavily. Thought and thought pummelled him.

I have to speak with the Headmaster. Why does he want to talk with me? Why am I the only student going before school starts?

His head snapped up. They’re not telling me everything! Why are they treating me like this?

With an exasperated sigh, the boy lay down, his t-shirt sticking to his back, even though a slight, cooling breeze came through the open window.

Why can’t they leave me alone?

Harry finally roused himself from his lethargic state and walked over to the desk. He picked up the Charms book, returned to the bed, and sat down with his back against the headboard.

Professor McGonagall said I can’t use my wand outside of Hogwarts, so I’ll just practice the movements with my hand and say the words to myself.

He read and practiced until a knock on the door, followed by the words, “Dinner’s ready!” interrupted his studying. The clattering of what sounded like dozens of hurried footsteps could be heard, so Harry opened his door carefully and looked out, before venturing forth.

I hope they don’t stare at me again. I never know what the twins are going to do. They’re too sneaky to trust. I wonder if Mrs Weasley will want me to help her.

When he reached the kitchen, Harry noticed everything already was on the table. Looking more closely, his eyes widened as he saw all the food on the table. Sure it was for lots of people — Mr and Mrs Weasley, Ginny, Ron, the twins, and Percy — but it was the most food he had ever seen at one time. A very large dish was piled high with some meat and vegetable dish that was covered by mashed potatoes, plus there was bread, and two jugs of what looked like that pumpkin juice.

“Tuck in, everyone,” encouraged Mrs Weasley. Harry leaned back as everyone started reaching, grabbing, pouring, and eating. “Here, Harry, let me make up a plate for you.”

She picked up his plate and loaded it with three large scoops of the meat dish and three thick slices of bread, then filled a large glass with juice. “That should do you for now. Let me know if you want more.”

That’s four or five meals at the Dursleys. I’ll never eat that much.

He took a bite from the meat and potatoes. His eyes closed, as he tried to identify the ingredients. Beef, onions, tomatoes but like a sauce, not chunks, lots of vegetables, and something else that he had never tasted before but he thought was sensational.

When he opened his eyes, most of the Weasleys were looking at him. Mr and Mrs Weasley and Ginny were the least obvious. Ron immediately turned away. Percy was reading a book he’d brought to the table, but the twins continued to gawk at him.

Harry could feel the heat building around his face and neck. Mrs Weasley cleared her throat, and the twins quickly realized what they had been doing, winked at him at exactly the same time, and returned to attacking their dinner.

“How do you like the dish, Harry?” Mrs Weasley asked, when she noticed how closely he was looking at it.

Harry knew he had to say something, nodding his head would be rude. “It’s g . . . good. Wh . . . what is it?”

He felt relieved when she smiled at him. “It’s called Shepherd’s Pie. Worcestershire Sauce gives it that little kick.”

Harry smiled to himself and nodded at Mrs Weasley. So that’s the taste I couldn’t figure out. This is great!

The boy took a deep breath, then another bite of the pie. After eating less than one half of the serving of pie and a slice of bread, Harry stopped. His stomach felt like it was going to bust out the button on his jeans and the belt holding them up.

Mrs Weasley looked at him. “Have you had enough, Harry?”

He nodded. “Th . . . thank you.”

She beamed back at the latest addition to her family. “You’re quite welcome, dear.”

“Can I finish what’s on Harry’s plate?” Ron looked hopefully at this mum.

“No, Ronald. We’ll just cover his dish and put it in the pantry in case Harry gets hungry later. You’ve already had two huge servings.”

Before Ron could respond, one of the twins said, in a sing-song falsetto voice, “But Mum, I’m a growing boy . . .”

“. . . with a hollow leg. I’m always hungry,” finished the other twin in a whiny tone.

Ron turned red and said to Harry, “They think they’re funny, but they’re not.”

Ginny changed the subject. “Would you like to learn some wizarding games?”

Harry looked at her suspiciously but nodded his head. They wouldn’t do anything with their parents here.

“Good,” Ginny said. “Let’s go into the front room.”

Over the next several hours, Ron and Ginny began teaching Harry wizarding games, like Exploding Snap, Gobstones, and Ron’s favourite, Wizard’s Chess. Harry found the first two games were fun and not hard to figure out. Wizard’s Chess was an entirely different story. He had never played chess before, so Ron had to tell him the names and movements for each piece and explained several simple strategies.

Harry started the first game by moving one of the pawns, as Ron had suggested in one of his strategies. As he moved the piece to a new spot on the board, a plea came out of nowhere. “Please, Sire, don’t sacrifice me.”

Harry jumped in shock, as if he had been electrocuted. He looked around frantically to see if either of the twins was close by. Ron started laughing loudly.

“Harry, this is Wizard’s Chess. The pieces can talk.”

Harry immediately deflated, certain Ron was taking the mickey out of him. He had begun to stand up, when Ginny said softly, “It’s true, Harry. They can speak, and when one piece takes another, he demolishes it. We aren’t teasing you.”

Harry peered into Ginny’s eyes, before quickly looking away. She’s telling the truth. He took a deep breath. Everything’s different, even their games.

He took a deep breath and nodded his head.

Once back to the game, Ron and his pieces demolished Harry’s men in short fashion. Ginny got bored watching the boys play chess, so she went upstairs.

After his third straight loss, Harry’s chess pieces started yelling at him about his abysmal performance. Stifling a yawn, Harry said, “Bed.”

“Me, too,” Ron answered.

As the boys got up, Mrs Weasley got up and hugged Ron. “Goodnight, Ron. Be sure to brush your teeth before going to bed.”

Harry noticed that Ron stood stiffly, a bored expression on his face, and not returning his mother’s hug.

Mrs Weasley smiled at him. “Good night, Harry. Sweet dreams.”

“G’night.” I think that’s the first time anyone has said good night to me. Definitely the first time for sweet dreams.

As Harry approached the stairs, Mr Weasley’s words reached him. “Good night, lad.”

Harry turned and raised his hand in acknowledgment. Mr Weasley smiled and raised his hand in return, squeezing it partially shut. Harry’s reaction was so instinctive it was completed before a thought entered his mind. His hand had partially closed, mirroring Mr Weasley’s gesture. As Harry walked up the stairs, a warm feeling moved through his fingers and into his hand.

As Harry changed into his pyjamas, his thoughts surged back and forth. That was nice.

He’s just trying to get my trust, then he’ll do something.

I don’t think Mr Weasley would . . .

What if he turns out to be like Uncle Vernon?


Harry sighed, picked up the Charms book and started reading and practicing again. He became lost in all the actions that could be done with magic, until a soft knock on the door startled him. Putting the book on the desk, he went to the door.

When a shy smile from the robe-wrapped Ginny Weasley greeted him, Harry immediately started. He instantly became self-conscious when he remembered he was just wearing his pyjamas, having forgotten to put on his robe before answering the door.

“May I come in?” Ginny asked.

Harry waved her in and quickly went to the wardrobe and pulled out his robe.

That, however, did not stop Ginny from adding. “Nice pyjamas, Harry.”

He could feel the heat creeping up his neck and onto his cheeks. When he looked up again, Ginny had ensconced herself at the end of his bed. Harry sat down on the desk chair.

Ginny dipped her head, then raised it, the teasing expression replaced by one that was so sincere Harry silently sucked in his breath, wondering how she could change so quickly.

“Thank you for telling me you wanted me to go with you,” she said in a whisper soft voice. “It means a lot to me.”

He closed his eyes, but when he opened them again, he looked directly into her eyes. Ginny felt her heart catch for a second. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said, his voice the strongest she had heard from him.

Ginny smiled a closed-mouth smile. “I’m sorry I was mad at you.”

When Harry looked at the petite redhead, images of Sammi flooded his mind. What would I have said to Sammi if she said what Ginny just did? In a split second, he knew.

“Me, too,” he replied. In another second, he snorted out loud at the expression on Ginny’s face.

“You made a joke?” Ginny’s shock quickly changed to amusement, and she began to laugh, softly at first, then more loudly.

Harry’s eyes smiled back at her.

Finally, she regained control and said, “Good one, Harry.”

After that, conversation flowed more easily, though Ginny supplied most of it. An hour later, it was time for bed. After goodnights were exchanged, Harry crawled into bed and promptly fell asleep.

*****


He walked through an open field, a pleasant breeze tickling his face. Turning around, he saw the Dursleys’ neighbourhood in the distance and knew he was leaving it. Turning back, he noticed two people walking up the path towards him. As they came closer, he could see that they were the same man and woman who had been visiting him over the years. And as before, he could not see their faces clearly, a condition that frustrated him more than it ever had before.

“Hello, Harry,” the man said. “Do you know where you’re going?”

The boy shook his head.

“Your final destination still is not known,” said the woman. “But you’ve taken the first step by leaving the Dursleys.”

“I don’t understand.”

The man explained, “There are many paths that you can take. Each one takes you to a different life. We can’t tell you what to do. Each decision is your own, but we’ll help in any other way we can. There are people who can help, as well as those who will make your journey much more difficult. Welcome the first group and shun the others. You’ll know which is which, just trust your instincts.”

“We will return the next time you need us,” the woman said. “Your journey will be very hard, but you will be able to complete it, if you make the right choices. It’s time for us to go now, Harry. Goodbye.”

As always, the two adults faded away.

Harry continued on the path, away from the Dursleys’ neighbourhood, until he came to a point where the path branched out in different directions. One path continued in the direction he had been going. The second one took him to the right, and the third to the left. With only a few seconds thought, he decided to stay on the path that continued in the same direction. As he looked towards the horizon directly in front of him, he saw the sun sitting on the end of the world, casting red rays so distinct he could count them. There were nine in total. He walked towards the sun, enjoying the warmth it provided, but not knowing if he was on the right path or not.


As he continued to walk, the dream became more and more fuzzy until it turned to mist and disappeared. He woke up soon after that, feeling wide awake and full of energy, so after a stop at the loo and a thorough washing of his hands, he went downstairs. Finding no one else up yet, Harry started making breakfast for the family, as he had done for the people he resided with previously.

Cooking gave Harry a feeling of satisfaction, though he never told the Dursleys that. It was a precise exercise, though it could flow when you knew what to do, where the ingredients were, and the utensils needed to make the dishes. He lost track of time, because he was caught up in the rhythms of making the meal — scrambled eggs with ham, sausages fried in a pan, fried potatoes in butter, with a dash of paprika, and lots of toasted wheat bread. When the food had been transferred to the waiting platters, Harry turned to place them on the table. He jumped in surprise as seven pairs of eyes stared back at him.

Mrs Weasley walked towards him. “Let me help you put them on the table. How nice of you to cook breakfast for us. Where did you learn, Harry?”

The boy’s placid eyes turned downward. “Dur . . . Dursleys. One of my chores.”

“Well, you don’t have to do that here. Shall we eat?”

Harry’s brow furrowed. What will they want me to do, then?

The six other red heads quickly sat down and started helping themselves to the dishes Harry had prepared.

After several bites, Ron looked at him. “This is good. Do you actually like to cook?”

Harry nodded his head, a mouthful of eggs giving him a good excuse not to talk. He was focused on his plate, when a small piece of toast landed in his eggs. His head jerked up, as the first trace of adrenaline started surging through his system. It immediately calmed, when he saw the smirk on Ginny’s face.

“Everything is very good, Harry,” she said, as if nothing else had happened.

His eyebrows hiked up his forehead, seemingly on their own. “Thanks,” he muttered and returned to eating his breakfast, all the while trying to keep himself from laughing out loud.

As soon as he was through eating, Harry picked up his plate, silverware, and glass and put them in the sink. Molly nearly jumped out of her chair, when she saw what he was doing.

“Harry dear, you don’t have to do that. I have a spell that moves dishes from the table to the sink. Let me show you.” Molly took her wand out, enunciated the command, and her dishes rose, following her wand movement to the sink.

Harry looked around the table and saw that only Ginny had finished, so he pointed his hand at her dishes, repeated the command to himself, and started moving his hand to the sink. As soon as the dishes were deposited, Harry looked up to see seven pairs of eyes staring at him again, accompanied by a like number of open mouths.

Mr Weasley stood up and walked towards Harry. “Lad, how did you do that?”

Oh, no, I’ve done something wrong. He took a step back from the man, looking closely for any signs of aggression. But I don’t feel any anger from him.

The boy’s head dropped, and his voice was barely discernable. “I’m s . . . sorry.”

Mr Weasley started to reach out, and Harry literally jumped back several feet, so he was beyond the reach of the man’s arm. A forlorn look came over the man’s face, as he brought his arm back to his side.

Bending down, so he was closer to the boy’s height, he said gently, “Harry, you have nothing to apologize for. I asked only because very few wizards can do what you did and certainly not at eleven years old. Have you received any training from Professors Dumbledore or McGonagall?”

The boy shook his head, his eyes still wide and his body tense, ready to bolt at the first sign of movement towards him.

“Did you just copy what you heard and saw Mrs Weasley do?”

The boy nodded his head, closely studying the man’s expression.

“I was just curious, Harry, because this is so unusual. You will not be punished. We will never hit you, son. You have nothing to worry about while you’re here.”

Harry continued to focus on the man. He’s never done anything bad to me. I can’t feel any negative feelings coming from him. I just won’t trust him yet.

The boy took a small step towards the man, and he heard a collective sigh of relief from the rest of the family members, then a rapid-fire series of questions.

“How did you do that?”

“Where did you learn to do that?”

“That was so cool!”

“What else can you do?”

“Boys! Stop this instant!” Molly’s eyes were blazing, as she stared at each of her sons in turn, except Percy, who was just observing all of the activity, a very curious expression on his face.

“I just do it.” Harry look puzzled. What’s so unusual about what I did?

Ginny spoke up. “Harry, most wizards can’t do wandless magic. That’s what you did when you used your hand. Okay?” He nodded, focusing on what Ginny was saying. “Only very powerful wizards can do magic without saying the words. Did you just think the words Mum said?”

He nodded again.

“Since doing both is really unusual and you were raised by Muggles without magic, what you just did is really amazing. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Ginny smiled at him. “It’s really cool that you can do that.”

Ron piped up. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“I didn’t learn. I just did it.” I don’t like this attention. I feel like a freak. “M . . . may I b . . . be excused, please?”

“Of course, Harry.”

Feeling like all the air had been sucked out of him, Harry went up to his bedroom. I don’t fit in anywhere. Even when people are nice, I do something wrong. Why am I like this?

The boy continued to berate himself and was stopped only when his owl flew off her perch and landed on his shoulder. Once his shock subsided, he started talking to her.

“You need a name, don’t you, girl?” His eyes fell on a book on top of his desk, the alternative History of Magic book Professor McGonagall had recommended. Remembering a picture and a name that had caught his attention, he said, “I saw one of a saint that I think you’ll like. Do you want to hear it?”

The owl seemed to nod her response to his question.

“Do you like the name Hedwig?”

The owl affectionately nibbled his ear.

“Good! I like it, too.”

The boy’s smile melted with a sigh. “What’s wrong with me, Hedwig? Why do people think I’m weird? Why is this magic so easy for me?”

The owl nuzzled her head against his cheek.

“Are they just interested in me because I can do something unusual? Do you think they’re not upset with me or jealous? I didn’t feel any negative feelings, just curiosity and surprise. Maybe they’re not mad at me.”

Harry held out his arm, and Hedwig landed lightly on it. Harry stroked the brilliant white feathers on her head and all the way down her back for several minutes.

“Would you do me a favour, Hedwig?” She looked at Harry as if she could understand him perfectly. “Would you take a note to Professor McGonagall for me?” He felt something that indicated she would. “Thank you. I’m going to write the note now. Okay?”

Hedwig flew to her perch. Harry went over to the desk, got a piece of parchment, and wrote the note, trying to get used to using a quill and the strange paper. Folding it up, like Ron had shown him, Harry tied the note to Hedwig’s leg and took her to the open window.

“Take this to Professor McGonagall at Hogwarts, please.” He watched the snowy owl powerfully launch herself off his arm. She winged her way above the trees surrounding the house, riding the currents, until she disappeared in the blue sky to the north.

Picking up the Charms book from the stack on his desk, Harry resumed reading and practicing, despite the reaction he had received at breakfast. After he had gotten to page 52, someone knocked on the door.

“May I come in, Harry?”

“Uh huh.”

Ginny opened the door, waited another second or two, just to make sure, then walked in. She sat down on the end of the bed, where Harry had been reading.

“You know it’s my birthday on the eleventh?”

Harry nodded his head.

“I’ll be ten. I bet you’ll notice that all the presents I get from my brothers will be stuff that they want.” She sighed. “They don’t have a clue what to do with me. I’m either treated like a princess or a pain in the, well you know, never like a regular person. Sometimes it frustrates me. Other times, it makes me sad that they don’t know me better. You know what I mean? Just ‘cause I’m a girl and the youngest in the family, I get treated differently. When I do something that’s girly, they freak out. They have no experience with girls, so they don’t know what to do. Mostly, they tease me. The twins will do weird things to my dolls, like turn them into rats.”

She scowled. “One time, I woke up in the middle of the night when I felt something tickling my face. I screamed bloody murder when I realised they’d put a spell on Teddy, my teddy bear, and turned him into a big spider. I would have hexed them in their beds, but they locked the door and I couldn’t figure out the counter-curse to get in. I didn’t speak to them for a week. Of course, Teddy had turned back into a teddy bear by morning, so I couldn’t complain to my parents. The twins are pretty creative that way.”

Harry’s mouth had fallen open in shock by this time, but Ginny didn’t seem to have noticed.

“Mainly, though, my brothers just treat me different, so I feel kind of isolated from them at times. Oh, they love me and all. But sometimes it just gets lonely not having anyone else in the family who is a girl. I mean a kid. My mum doesn’t count. You just get the feeling people don’t understand you, so I have hiding places in the house and lots more outside, where I can go and be by myself and try and figure all this out. It’s kind of nice to do that, and it’s better than hexing them, because then I get punished, but most of the time I set it up, so one of my other brothers gets blamed. And that bloody annoys my bro — oh I’m not supposed to say bloody — anyhow, it upsets my brothers, then they try to prank me, and it starts all over again. So, it’s hard being the only girl and the youngest in a big family. You know what I mean?”

She finally took a breath and looked at Harry expectantly.

He closed his mouth with a snap and nodded. “Yeah.”

Harry looked at the red haired girl. She was as slight as he was, but slightly curvy in a feminine way, and maybe an inch or two shorter than he was. Then, he noticed she was watching him watch her. He quickly moved his eyes to the wall on his right, trying to fight down the heat that was making its way down his back and up to his face.

Ginny smiled and got up. “Nice talking with you, Harry.” When she got to the door, she said, “Thanks for listening,” then left, closing the door behind her.

Harry didn’t know if she’d been joking with him or really had a problem. Half the time, he had felt like laughing and the other half wondering if she wanted him to give her some advice. But she didn’t stop once, so he couldn’t say anything, even if he had wanted to.

She was right, Harry thought, it’s tough being different from other people in your family, even though the Dursleys never were family. You do feel alone when people don’t understand. Or, he thought bitterly, don’t care and make no effort.

Then, the boy smiled to himself. Ginny was different, but in a good way. He picked up the book and started reading again, feeling a little better for some reason.
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