My continuing thanks to all of you who feel the story warrants your DSTA nominations. They are much appreciated!
My thanks to cwarbeck for her efforts in helping me bring this story to you, especially for her patience with my creative attempts at punctuation and occasional ignorance of the British language.
Please note: This and the next several chapters show Harry's struggles in adapting to this very new world in general and the Weasleys specifically. At least, now he has people on his side.
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Saving Harry | ||||||
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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: 340827; Chapter Total: 19942 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: |
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Harry felt a prickling sensation of heat and moisture sweep over his body. I shouldn’t have said anything about Dumbledore. I don’t even know what wards are. These could be entirely different. Criminy! Why can’t I keep my mouth shut? His eyes swept around the table, confirming that the four Weasley siblings had continued to stare at him, their mouths hanging open. Then, an avalanche of words pounded him. “Why would Dumbledore leave you at your relatives?” “Could you have stayed with us?” “They’re Muggles, aren’t they?” “Would you have been safe here?” “You know about wards?” “Are you mad at him?” Ginny watched with growing alarm as Harry shrunk inside himself, his face flushing, and his eyes looking so uncomfortable her stomach wrenched. “Stop it!” she screamed, slapping both hands on the table. Four sets of eyes immediately jumped in her direction. In the next second, Harry bolted from the kitchen and disappeared up the stairs before anyone else had a chance to react. “You — bloody — gits!!! Didn’t you listen to anything Mum said? He’s not used to this! Look what you’ve done to him!” Each statement had been hurled with the force of a Bludger, and her brothers sat in stunned silence, their eyes cast down at the table top. “Sorry, GinGin,” George finally whispered. “What should we do?” Fred asked. Ginny’s blazing eyes drilled into the twins. “Leave — him — alone.” Her voice softened. “We’ve got to let him come to us. Okay?” She got up from the table as her three brothers silently nodded their heads. Ron reached over, moved Harry’s half-filled plate in front of him, and started eating. The twins carried on a whispered conversation, their heads close together. Ginny started removing the dishes from the table, placing them in the sink to be washed. Pul ling the kitchen door closed behind him, Albus Dumbledore continued talking with Minerva, Molly, and Arthur, while they crossed through the backyard. “Wards based on both your families’ distant relationship with the Potters won’t be as strong as those I erected at the Dursleys’. Lily’s sacrifice for Harry and her direct relationship with her sister, Petunia, enabled me to use very old magic that is exceptionally strong. Still, these wards, along with other protections Minerva and I will create, should be more than adequate to safeguard your family and Harry.” The headmaster sighed. “With the benefit of hindsight, the better decision might well have been to place Harry with you. The mistakes of old men can be painful sometimes. I just hope Harry can forgive me mine.” He shook his head. “As you can imagine, I didn’t want to go into detail with Harry why staying with his relatives would provide the most protection. I doubt he would have wanted to hear that it was based on his mother sacrificing herself for him. The poor boy has enough burdens without adding that one.” Molly gently laid her hand on the wizard’s shoulder. “Don’t criticize yourself, Albus. You made the best decision you could for the boy and did it at a very difficult time when nobody knew for certain what had happened.” She looked back at The Burrow. “Would you mind if Arthur showed you the property boundaries? I don’t think those kids should be left alone for too long.” Arthur smiled. “You’re probably right, dear. I can show them.” He turned to the professors and pointed. “This path will take us to the eastern edge of the property.” “Molly?” Albus asked. “Before you return, could you leave several drops of blood for the wards?” “Oh, of course.” Molly held out her left hand. A few seconds later, several drops of Prewett blood dropped into a phial that Minerva had conjured. Molly walked back quickly and entered through the kitchen door. Her eyes swept the room. “Where’s Harry?” Ginny looked up from washing the breakfast dishes. “He . . . ah . . . went up to his room . . .” Molly’s eyes immediately narrowed. “George, Fred, Ron, what did you do?” Both twins grimaced, while Ron’s face quickly heated to a dark pink colour. Fred looked up, saw his mum’s expression, and returned his gaze to the top of the table. “We just asked him some questions . . .” “. . . at the same time,” George finished. “We didn’t mean to upset him,” Ron offered. Four sets of eyes stared at Ron. “Bugger,” George whispered to his twin. “Here it comes,” Fred answered, just as quietly. “You did what?” Sparks flew from Molly’s eyes. “Didn’t I tell you to leave him alone? Didn’t I tell you he wasn’t used to lots of people and noise? I leave you alone for two seconds and you traumatize the poor boy . . .” Ron finally looked up. “We’re sorry, Mum. We didn’t realize.” Molly’s expression softened. “Well, yes, but you have to be more aware. I know it won’t be easy, but try to imagine how Harry is feeling. Everything about his life has changed in the past day.” The steely glint returned to her eyes. “The three of you. Outside. De-gnome the garden.” The boys got up, and Molly addressed Ginny. “I thought you, of all my children, would have known better . . .” Ginny’s eyes widened in shock. But before she could respond, George interrupted their mum. “Ginny didn’t say anything. She does understand. She shouldn’t be punished.” Ginny’s eyes grew even larger. She began to thank George, but he looked at her, smiled briefly, and headed out the back door with his brothers. Molly walked toward the stairs. “Would you finish the dishes, Ginny? I want to check in with Harry.” Her mum didn’t see the concern that quickly filled Ginny’s eyes. As soon as he had raced up the stairs and into his bedroom, Harry locked the door and started pacing back and forth. I don’t fit in anywhere! I cause stuff to jump around. Dumbledore said it’s my magic, but I don’t even do anything. It just happens. Could I hurt someone? This is so hard. Why can’t people just leave me alone? All those questions . . . A woman’s sharp voice caught Harry’s attention. He stopped pacing. It must be Mrs Weasley. He listened closely to the sounds reverberating up the stairwell, slumping more with each new word, as if they pulled the energy from him. When the conversation ended, Harry walked slowly to the bed and lay down, facing the wall. I got them in trouble. They’ll hate me. A chill ripped through his spine. Will they do something to get back at me? Dudley always did. The back of his eyes started stinging, and he blinked rapidly to keep the tears at bay. What’ll happen if they kick me out? A numb feeling began to descend over Harry, starting with his head and slowly working its way down his body. His thoughts had taken him so far away the initial sounds of someone walking up the stairs didn’t make an impression on him. As the sounds grew louder, though, a jolt of adrenaline shocked him into a sitting position. All of his senses were focused on the door. Ron and the twins are after me! How will I be able to escape from them? They can trap me easily in this room. I never should have talked with them. Harry rubbed his temples to help soothe the headache that had raced up his neck and was now moving up the back of his head towards the crown. He winced as his stomach roiled at the thought of the three boys gaining their revenge on him. His eyes darted around the room, when he heard a hand on the door knob and the sound of it being turned. “Harry, dear,” a soft, female voice asked. “May I come in? The door’s locked.” If it’s the twins or Ron faking their mum’s voice, I’ll try to run through them and down the stairs before they can react. That’s better than allowing them in here. Harry got up and walked quietly to the door. He quickly unlocked the door and threw it open, ready to sprint through the three boys. Mrs Weasley had a hopeful but tentative smile on her face as she waited at the door, but it quickly turned to surprise, then sadness when she saw the expression on Harry’s face. Fear, determination, and something almost like resignation were evident. She stepped forward, intending to wrap the small boy in her arms, to protect him from whatever was tormenting him. Harry jumped back, eyes darting, almost feral, as if survival was the only thing on his mind. Molly gasped, tears instantly forming and spilling down her reddening cheeks; she wrenched her arms back to her sides as if they had committed a heinous crime. “I’m so sorry to startle you, Harry,” she whispered. “I know . . . I know you’re not . . . used to this.” She looked at her hands and arms in disgust, then into the searching eyes of the boy she wanted to mother so badly it hurt more than she thought possible. Molly forced a smile, though she knew it wasn’t reflected in her eyes. She continued to speak softly. “When I returned from outside, I saw you weren’t in the kitchen and just wanted to see how you were doing. I realize all this is new — magic, this house . . . us.” She looked at him hopefully. Harry stared at her, then briefly nodded his head. “Would you like to talk some now? It’s alright if you don’t want to.” Harry’s eyes continued to burn into Molly’s. He shook his head. “Okay, dear. Perhaps another time would be better.” Before turning to leave, she added, “I just want you to know I will never . . . do anything to you. Never.” With that, she turned and walked out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her. Seconds later, a soft click signified the door had been re-locked. It’s worse than I thought. What did those Muggles do to that poor boy? I thought he was going to jump out of his skin when I reached for him. Dear Merlin, he was so tense that he looked like a trapped animal. And those green eyes of his, constantly darting around the room, trying to read what I was going to do. Lily, I swear to you and James that I will do everything in my power to help your son. Entering the kitchen, Molly began to vigorously wash down the already clean counter, then towel-dried the spotless dishes sitting in the rack, all the while trying desperately not to think of the boy who should have been her surrogate son for the past ten years. Harry stumbled over to the bed, after locking the door. Instinctively, he curled into a foetal position, facing the wall. His body looked like a war was being waged on it; the unmoving stillness shattered occasionally by explosive shudders, as he tried to fight off the tide of emotions that threaten to overwhelm him. I don’t know what to do. Everything is so new . . . What do they want from me? At least I knew Aunt Petunia would give me chores, Uncle Vernon would yell, and Dudley would call me a freak. Why wouldn’t I talk with Mrs Weasley? I didn’t feel anything bad coming from her. I just couldn’t say or do anything. What’s wrong with me? Other people talk. Why can’t I? This is so hard. Finally, the swirling thoughts left, and the boy fell asleep. Mol ly looked up from the kitchen table and saw her husband and the two professors return. They headed straight for the table, as Molly got up to bring them tea and biscuits. Once they were all seated, Arthur smiled. “I think we will be well protected now.” Albus explained, “In addition to the blood wards, Minerva and I added a warning system that will let you know if someone is trying to breech the wards. We also included anti-portkey and apparition protection, with the ability to recognize people from an approved list that you and Arthur can add to or delete.” Minerva continued, “Anyone else will receive quite a shock should they try to cross your property lines uninvited.” The corners of her lips twitched upwards briefly. “Thank you both.” Molly sighed. “I have some less than good news.” The eyebrows of both professors arched, and Molly proceeded to tell the story of Harry’s quick departure from the kitchen and her one-sided conversation with him. Ending the story, Molly shook her head. “He looked at me like I was a threat to him, and he acted almost like . . .” she winced, “a trapped animal. He didn’t say one word and locked the door again when I left.” She looked at the two professors. “It’s going to be harder than I thought.” Arthur reached out and took his wife’s hand in his, gently running his thumb over her knuckles. “We’ll just have to have patience. I’m sure there’s a lot of good inside the boy. It’s just been buried.” She smiled wanly. “I know, dear. It just makes me so sad. I’ve got to forget how much James and Lily loved him and the life he had . . . well, before.” “Molly,” Minerva said softly, “that reminds me of something I observed when I spoke with Harry at his relatives’ house. We had been having a conversation similar to what you had with him. At one point, though, he got very agitated. I was shocked when he spoke clearly, with no stammering at all, four or five sentences in a row that expressed his feelings quite succinctly. There is much more to the boy than initially meets the eye. Plus, when I packed his belongings, I noticed he had a surprising number of books.” Albus nodded. “Lily and James were two of the top students in their year, so it would not be surprising if Harry inherited their intelligence.” He paused for a moment, deep in thought. “We probably should put some plans together for his time here.” When both Arthur and Molly looked curious, Albus continued. “While the first attempt to integrate Harry into your family and life at The Burrow wasn’t a rousing success,” all four smiled briefly, “it is important for him to be with your children as much as possible, even if he remains silent and somewhat removed. I’m concerned that when he gets to Hogwarts it will be overwhelming for him for a number of reasons. Other than Minerva and me, your children will be the only people he is familiar with. It would be tremendously helpful if he is at least neutral with them by that time.” Albus looked from Arthur to Molly, the twinkle gone from his eyes. “After my brief conversations with Harry and his relatives, it became painfully apparent the boy has led a very isolated existence.” He swallowed with some difficulty. “He obviously was not part of the Dursley family, and I doubt he was allowed to have any friends.” Despite the irritation evident on his face, Arthur said softly, “So our priority is to show him that not all people will mistreat him.” “And try to bring him out a little,” Molly added. “That would be a good start,” Albus said. “Sometime in the next few days, I will bring him to Hogwarts. I want Harry to gain some familiarity with the grounds and the castle prior to the other students arriving. I do think that will help him be more comfortable there. I also want to discuss his history and his place in the wizarding world.” A fist of air caught in Minerva’s throat. “Albus! So soon? Don’t you think all that information will overwhelm the boy and drive him further into his shell?” The headmaster looked thoughtful and nodded his head. “That is a possibility. But I’m afraid it would be much worse if he found out on his own. His mere presence at Hogwarts will start the whispers, pointing, and staring. Undoubtedly, the Slytherins will immediately consider him an enemy, since a number of their parents followed Voldemort. I can’t let him go into that type of environment without him knowing why the students are acting that way. That becomes even more crucial given Harry’s reclusive nature and lack of social development.” McGonagall’s lips pressed together, then she replied. “Albus, this will be very difficult for him. He should have learned this over a period of time. Please make sure he isn’t overwhelmed by all of this new information. His life is changing enough as it is.” Dumbledore nodded gravely. “I understand and share your concerns, Minerva. They are well-founded. I’ll do my best to ensure Harry is not unduly affected by what I have to say.” Knowing there wasn’t anything more she could say to change the headmaster’s mind, McGonagall changed subjects. “I’d like to take Harry to Diagon Alley soon. While it may be a challenge for him, since it is far different than anything he’s seen, I believe it will be easier to get his books, supplies, robes, and other materials before most of the other students do their shopping.” “That is an excellent idea, Minerva. There will be far fewer people there and less attention. Before we leave today, would you communicate our plans to Mr Potter?” “Of course.” Pr ior to returning to Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall walked up the stairs to the first landing and knocked lightly on the door to Harry’s bedroom. The familiar surge of adrenaline drove Harry off the bed and to his feet. It’s probably Mrs Weasley again. I wonder if she’s going to tell me they don’t want me to stay with them any longer. He walked to the door and opened it, his eyes quickly widening at the sight of Professor McGonagall. He continued staring at her, until she huffed and asked, “Aren’t you going to invite me in, Mr Potter?” He winced in embarrassment and stepped back from the door, keeping an equal distance between himself and the witch when she entered the room. She sat down on the chair by the small desk at the end of the room. Harry circled back, so he now stood closer to the open door. The witch spoke quietly. “I am sorry your stay with the Weasleys started off on a less than positive note, Mr Potter. I know the twins especially can be, well, boisterous. Nonetheless, they and the other family members are good people, and I hope you will give them a chance to prove that to you.” The witch waited for a comment or some form of acknowledgment but continued when none were forthcoming. “As a student at Hogwarts, you will need the usual books and school supplies,” she paused and almost smiled, “and a few items that you would not consider usual. I will take you to our wizarding shopping area, which we call Diagon Alley, two days from now. I will arrive here promptly at nine in the morning. Please be ready.” Again, the witch waited for a response that never came. “I will assume that meets your approval then, Mr Potter. Also please be aware that Professor Dumbledore will contact you soon to arrange a meeting with you at Hogwarts. Good day, Mr Potter.” She nodded curtly and left the room, as Harry moved to maintain as much distance between them as possible. Why does Dumbledore want to meet with me? Why didn’t he just talk to me today? Why meet at Hogwarts instead of here? Could it really be St Brutus instead? I guess there’s nothing I can do. But what about this trip to that alley place? How am I going to pay for any of this stuff? I don’t have any money. A greater concern became evident. How am I going to pay for this school? It probably isn’t free like my other school. Harry remained in his room until a timid knock on the door caught his attention. The softly spoken, “Harry,” let him know Ginny wanted to see him. What does she want? Maybe her brothers want her to ask me questions, since they got in trouble this morning. Why don’t they just leave me alone? He opened the door. Ginny stood there, scuffing her right foot on the hallway’s wooden floor, but when Harry looked at her eyes, he saw a shy determination. She nodded her head down the hallway. “Let me show you around the house.” Her mischievous grin appeared and disappeared quickly. “We can’t have you running around in the middle of the night, looking for the loo.” She looked up at him through her eyelashes, her eyebrows subtly arched. Harry snorted before he could stop the reaction. She made a joke? Ginny took two hesitant steps down the hall and looked back to see if he was following her. Is she going to lead me into a trap? But she yelled at her brothers when they started asking all those questions. The boy steeled himself. I’ll keep far enough away so she can’t grab me. I can do this! He stepped into the hall, quickly looking in the opposite direction from where Ginny stood and missing her quick smile. “Here’s the loo. You and I are closest.” She caught Harry’s eye and looked towards her door, which was located opposite his. “That’s my bedroom.” They first proceeded up the stairs to see the remaining bedrooms. Harry noticed how different Ron and the twins’ rooms were in contrast to Percy’s. Percy was perfect; nothing was out of place. The twins’ room looked like a cyclone visited daily, but even stranger were the scorch marks on the walls. As soon as Ginny opened the door to Ron’s top floor room, Harry had to shut his eyes against the garish glare of the brightly orange painted room. Ginny giggled. “Ron follows the Chudley Cannons in Quidditch. Their colours are this horrible orange.” She lowered her voice. “They haven’t had a winning season in forever, but every year Ron thinks they’ll win the championship.” Quidditch? He looked at the posters on the wall and almost fell over. People in weird dresses were riding broomsticks, like joke witches on Halloween, and they were moving. Ginny noticed Harry goggling at the posters. “You don’t know about our sport or our pictures, do you?” Harry tore his eyes from the players and shook his head. Now I know they’re taking the mickey out of me. His eyes returned to the poster and the players flying in and out of the frame, throwing a soccer-sized ball around. How did they do that? Ginny had already started her explanation when Harry turned his attention to her. “. . . but the most important player is the Seeker. By throwing the Quaffle through any of the three hoops, a team gets ten points. But the Seeker who grabs the Golden Snitch gets one-hundred and fifty points. Most of the time that team wins.” Harry looked at the small girl. She really is good at making up stories. Those words — I’ve never heard of them before. But why is she lying to me? Did her brothers put her up to it? I was right. I can’t trust any of them. When she paused for a breath, Harry turned and walked away, absently wiping his hand across his damp forehead. “Harry? You don’t believe me, do you?” The sad tone of the girl’s voice caused Harry to stop. Without turning around, he shook his head, then continued walking towards the staircase that would take him back to his room. He had been lying on his bed for only a few minutes, when a scratching noise caught his attention. He turned over and looked towards the door. Two books already were lying on the floor, and a third one was being pushed under the door. He could see immediately each book was on Quidditch. Harry jumped off the bed and quickly flipped through the books. She didn’t make it up. There’s no way they would have books printed just to pull a joke. Harry’s eyes widened. They couldn’t have got anything printed that quickly — the books or the posters — because I just got here. He opened the door and jumped back a few inches when he saw Ginny standing there, her eyes watering. He immediately ducked his head. “I’m sorry, Harry.” “S’okay, Ginny.” When he looked up, a radiant smile greeted him that was only slightly diminished by the tears that now were cascading down her cheeks. He reached into his pocket and handed a handkerchief to her. “Th-thanks.” In a few more seconds, Ginny brightened again. “It’s almost lunch time. Let’s get some food and eat outside in the garden.” Two images of Sammi flashed in front of Harry. He felt like he was wrapped in warmth and happiness. Sammi and he were walking home from school. Sammi chatted non-stop, as she always did. He was smiling at his friend’s enthusiasm. Harry’s stomach wrenched when another image replaced the first. He was writing letters, one after another, and handing them to Aunt Petunia to be posted. Next he watched the mail as his aunt leafed through that day’s delivery. Nothing for him . . . again. His aunt was on the phone, asking for Sammi. She wasn’t there, so a message was left but never returned by the only person he had considered a friend. I can’t do this again. I’d rather be alone than hurt like that. Harry looked at the girl in front of him, her eyes bright but questioning. She’s small. If we’re outside, I can run away from her. She yelled at her brothers. Why would she want to be mean to me? It was the dream! That’s where that man and woman told me to trust the people I met next. “O . . . kay.” Ginny’s smile was the biggest he had seen yet. “C’mon. Mum will make lunch for us. It’s warm but not too warm outside. It’ll be fun.” She stopped about halfway down the stairs. “Harry?” She talks non-stop like Sammi. He started walking down the stairs, not noticing that Ginny had released a sigh of relief. As they entered the kitchen, Ginny asked, “Mum, could we eat outside in the garden — just Harry and me?” Molly smiled. “That’s an excellent idea. I’ll fix some sandwiches, fruit, and crisps for you. It will take me just a few minutes. Why don’t you take Harry out back and show him around?” Ginny looked at Harry, and he nodded. As they reached the back door, Harry turned, “Th . . . thanks, Mrs We . . . Weasley.” He ducked out the door before he saw her smile back at him. Harry followed Ginny into the garden area behind the house. Two steps out the door, he stopped. The back yard was unlike anything he’d seen before. One area spilled into another, in a haphazard but somehow perfect arrangement. Vegetable plots, flowers, shrubs, vines, huge trees, patches of grass here and there, with a long fence running along one side. It was so different from the Dursleys’ garden, with its perfectly straight lines, no weeds, and no personality whatsoever. While Ginny waited at the garden table, Harry wandered around the back yard with his mouth hanging open. I’ve never seen anything like this before. The play park doesn’t even come close. It’s huge back here. At the Dursleys’, ten steps from the back of the house and you’ve reached the neighbour’s fence. Harry looked as far as he could see. You can’t even see any houses. He turned around to join Ginny at the garden table, when his jaw dropped again at his first sight of The Burrow. It looks like people put the house together with their eyes closed. This isn’t anything like the Dursleys’ boring house. The different parts of the house all tilt at strange angles, and some seem to float in the air. Nothing makes sense, but there’s a warm feeling coming from the house. Ginny observed the young boy as he studied the house, surprised but pleased by his reaction. “Do you like our house?” The boy started slightly at her words, seemingly lost in his examination of the unusual structure. He looked up and nodded. Ginny thought she might have seen the corners of his mouth turn up, but if they had, the movement was so fleeting she couldn’t be sure. A moment later, Molly Weasley paused at the screen door, holding two plates and two large glasses of juice in her hands. Her heart clutched for a second, as she looked at her only daughter and her newest son. They shared the same small stature, but Molly noted with chagrin, very dissimilar outlooks. Harry appeared closed off at the best of times, wary and distrusting when he was uncomfortable. On the other hand, Molly knew Ginny was special, not because she was the seventh child in the family or the first female Weasley in generations. No, Ginny was special, because she possessed unique qualities. Molly would watch Ginny watching people, animals, activities, whatever was happening around her. Later, her comments showed her mum what a perceptive girl she was. Having six older brothers had provided her with many opportunities to sit back and see what made each of them tick. Somehow, Ginny seemed to have been blessed with the best qualities from each of her older brothers. Molly quickly realized it had become second nature for her daughter to silently analyze someone new anytime the opportunity arose. With Harry Potter, it offered Ginny the chance to see what he was really like, as opposed to all the silly stories that had been written by people who apparently hadn’t even bothered to talk with him. Molly recalled that when Arthur first read the Harry Potter story to her, Ginny asked how a baby could do anything to stop the most evil Dark Lord of the past century. The more Ginny heard the story, the more she became convinced that as heroic as that baby had been, he had nothing to do with stopping the Killing Curse. Ginny had no idea how he lived after being struck by it, but that did not matter. What she felt was sorrow that a baby had become famous for something it couldn’t have done or even remembered. Even more, she felt badly for the boy who had lost his parents and had been forced to live with someone else. Regardless, Molly knew that if any of her children would make a connection with Harry it would be Ginny. Molly pushed open the screen door with her right foot and called out, “Anyone hungry?” After she had placed the plates and glasses in front of the children, Molly noticed that Harry’s eyes had grown to the size of galleons. As thin as he is, I’m sure they didn’t feed him much at all. “Ginny, Harry, there’s more food inside if you’re still hungry.” She smiled. “Tuck in, kids.” “Thanks, Mrs Weas . . . Weasley.” “You’re welcome, Harry.” She turned quickly, so the children wouldn’t see the tears that were stinging her eyes. I want to hug him so much, to keep everything bad and hurtful away from that poor boy. Lily, I’ll never try to replace you, but I am going to try with everything I have to create a real home for your son. She hurried back into the kitchen and immediately started making a batch of oatmeal raisin cookies. Harry looked at his plate, with three full sandwiches, sliced apples, and more crisps than he could eat in three meals. With his first bite, a puzzled expression came over his face, and he took off the top slice of bread to see what was inside. The meat is beef. I know this yellow-orange thing is cheese, but Aunt Petunia never put cheese on my sandwiches so I don’t have a clue what kind. And I’ve never seen mustard like this. Ginny watched as Harry examined his sandwich, then quickly averted her eyes when she realized what had prompted him to do that. “Do you like cheddar cheese, Harry? I think this is medium flavoured. Sometimes Mum will get mild or sharp instead. All of them go with this brown mustard.” Harry put the bread back on the sandwich and briefly glanced at her. “Tastes g . . . good.” Lunch was completed without any more conversation. When they brought the plates and glasses back to the kitchen, Molly was disappointed to see that two full sandwiches remained on Harry’s plate, as well most of the apple slices and crisps. With the plates returned, Ginny asked, “Do you want to see more of our property?” At first she thought Harry hadn’t heard her, but finally he nodded his head, and they returned to the back yard. “Hi, kids,” Mr Weasley greeted Ginny and Harry, when they walked up to the shed. “Showing Harry around, Firefly?” He reached out and squeezed Ginny’s shoulder. She grinned at her dad. “Just starting.” Mr Weasley picked up one of the electronic gadgets. “Do you know what this is, Harry?” When he moved it towards Harry, so he could examine the object more closely, the boy flinched. Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. If they were going to do anything, Ginny would have closed the shed door already. “Ba . . . baby mo . . . mon . . . monitor.” Sweat began to form on his forehead. “Hear them cr . . . crying.” Mr Weasley’s eyes lit up. “Ingenious!” His forehead wrinkled. “But how do they hear?” Harry searched the work bench and saw the second monitor. He took that one, pointed at the speaker, moved his hand from his monitor to the one in Mr Weasley’s hand, and finished by pointing to the wizard’s ear. A wide smile split Mr Weasley’s face. “One listens, and you hear from the other one.” Harry nodded. Ginny noticed the tired look on his face and said, “Time for the tour’s next stop — Mum’s garden.” “Thanks for the explanation, Harry,” Mr Weasley said, his hand rising a few inches, then abruptly pulled back to his side. Harry nodded and sped up to join Ginny. As they ambled down the rows of plants, Ginny explained, “Mum grows enough fruits and vegetables to feed us through the summer and fall. Then she cans or preserves or whatever she calls it, the rest for the winter.” She gestured over to some wooden buildings. “We get eggs from the hens all year. Mum grew up on a farm, so I don’t think she’d know what to do if she couldn’t grow stuff.” The small girl smiled, then shrugged her shoulders. “C’mon, the Quidditch pitch is next. I bet you’ll like that.” When she failed to hear footsteps behind her, Ginny turned around and found that Harry had moved over to the rose bushes that were planted against the fence that separated the hens from the garden area. Ginny smiled when she saw him smelling the roses. She joined him and found the crimson coloured blossoms were the most fragrant. When Ginny looked at him, Harry shrugged. “Ga . . . ga . . . gardened at the Dursleys.” His shoulders slumped, as he pointed at the rose bushes, his foot kicking angrily at the dirt path. “The Dursleys’ garden had rose bushes like this one?” He nodded. “They smell really nice.” As they walked past the orchard to the open area that was used to play Quidditch, Ginny explained that Bill, Charlie, and the twins played the sport, but that Ron was the family’s Quidditch expert. As Harry looked around, he couldn’t help but compare this wizarding sport, where the players flew around in an open air stadium, to Dudley whose sport of choice was to terrorize smaller kids. A second feeling came over Harry, but it was one he couldn’t describe. Whatever it was, he felt very comfortable standing next to the open field and especially when he pictured players flying around on brooms, like the posters in Ron’s bedroom. After visiting the shed, where Mr Weasley kept his weird assortment of broken electronic items, Mrs Weasley’s garden with its cross-section of fruits, vegetables, and herbs, and the Quidditch pitch where the boys practiced that game, Harry began to have the first inklings that this family was quite different than the one that lived at number four Privet Drive. And it’s not due to magic, Harry thought. A whispered question broke into his thoughts. “Ready for the last stop, Harry?” It took him a second or two to remember that Ginny was standing next to him. He blinked a couple of times. “Yeah.” Ginny smiled and headed across the lane adjacent to the field. A narrow dirt path moved away from the field, through an area of tall, scrubby grasses and smallish scattered trees. As they crested a slight rise, Harry stopped and stared at the sight that greeted him. A placid pond sat before them, like a multi-faceted sapphire in an emerald setting. The pond reflected the sun like a million stars had fallen into it. “Wow.” A feeling of tranquillity flowed through Harry. It’s beautiful here. “Yeah.” Ginny smiled, then sprinted down to the shore. She tore off her trainers and socks and rolled up the legs of her jeans as far as they would go. Then, she waded into the shallow, a look of bliss on her face. “The water’s perfect.” A second later, Harry followed Ginny’s lead and soon was standing next to her. “Warm.” Harry closed his eyes. “The shed is Dad’s, the garden is Mum’s, and the boys have the Quidditch pitch. This is my place.” Harry felt a jolt go through his body. She’s sharing her special place with me. “Th . . . thanks, Ginny.” She smiled back at him, and somehow the brightness on the pond’s surface became more subdued. Harry quickly averted his eyes from Ginny’s and looked around the pond more closely. The grass is greener here, and there’re more trees, probably because water’s here. No river runs into the pond, so rainwater or a spring must feed it. It’s really peaceful. Harry almost jumped from the jolt of energy that surged down his back. It’s a perfect spot for an ambush. No one would see you, and it’s far from the house. He quickly scanned the area again. I don’t sense anyone else. I probably could run away from them, unless they snuck up on me. There’s too much area for them to cover. He glanced at Ginny out of the corner of his eye, trying not to move and draw her attention. She doesn’t look nervous, and she isn’t looking around. Harry’s brow furrowed. Would she want to hurt me? She hasn’t done anything so far. I’ll just have to watch her. He took a deep breath and felt his back muscles loosen slightly. “Want to . . .” Harry’s head whipped around towards Ginny so quickly he almost lost his balance. Her head dropped almost to her chest. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I startled you, didn’t I?” He nodded, his head hanging down. “I was going to ask if you wanted to sit on the shore.” She looked up at him. “S . . . sure.” They moved from the water and sat on the sand several feet from the edge of the pond. The sat silently, but not uncomfortably. Harry stretched his legs out towards the water and leaned back, supported by his arms extending behind him. Soon, his eyes closed, as he sunk into the rhythms of the pond and its surroundings. A breeze played through the leaves of the trees that formed a horseshoe around the pond, though its presence was announced more by the sounds it made, since very little movement made its way down to the shoreline where they sat. The surface of the pond was still, but Harry imagined it would add the rhythmic sound of water lapping on the sand when the breeze was stronger. They had entered the pond area through the open end of the horseshoe, and the presence of water was evident, even with eyes closed. The smell of moisture reached his nose, intermixed with sandy and loamy earth, and hints of both dried and damp leaves. He dug his fingers into the sand and felt an encircling warmth, which contrasted to the grittiness of the grains. The sun’s rays created a feather-light presence over his body, and the boy felt his muscles disappearing. I’ve never seen anything like this before. Little Whinging has nothing like it. He heard Ginny making patterns in the sand with her fingers and opened his eyes to watch. “This is where I go when I want to be alone.” Her voice barely rose above a whisper. “You can come here, too, if you want.” She looked at him hesitantly. He tried to smile but couldn’t. “Thanks.” Her eyes locked on his. “I know this is hard for you.” He turned his head and gazed across the pond to the far shore. “Yeah.” A few moments passed, and Ginny returned to tracing in the sand. She didn’t look up, when she said, “We want to help, all of us do.” His breath hitched, and the battering thoughts tore at him. You can’t! I don’t even know what to do, or what’s wrong with me. It’ll never work. He squeezed his eyes closed. I want to believe her. But if I do, something’ll happen and I’ll feel horrible again. I couldn’t stand that. God, this is so hard. He nodded his head and heard her say, “We probably should go back. I forgot to have Mum put a sun block charm on us. You’re pretty pale, and I turn into a lobster . . .” A snort escaped from Harry’s nose. “Well, thank you very much, Mr Potter.” Harry turned quickly and saw the wide grin on her face. The two kids got up and slowly started their walk back to the house. At the crest of the small upslope leading from the pond, Harry stopped and looked back at the scene one more time. I’ve got to try. I don’t want to live like this any more. He caught up with Ginny, and together, they walked back to The Burrow. |
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