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.
Rating: R
Categories: Pre-OotP, Alternate Universe, Buried Gems
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2007.11.10
Updated: 2008.09.13
Index
Chapter 1: The New Arrival
Chapter 2: Changes
Chapter 3: Conflict
Chapter 4: Pre-School
Chapter 5: Shattered
Chapter 6: Education
Chapter 7: Consequences
Chapter 8: The Girl And The Gift
Chapter 9: The Burrow
Chapter 10: Trial By Shopping
Chapter 11: First Steps
Chapter 12: Family
Chapter 13: Dumbledore
Chapter 14: Repercussions
Chapter 15: Reaching Out
Chapter 16: Birthday Surprises
Chapter 17: Truth or Consequences
Chapter 18: Spells
Chapter 19: Ponds, Pensieves, and Power
Chapter 20: Flying
Chapter 21: Departure
Chapter 22: Wands, Witches, and Wizards
Chapter 23: Known, Unknown, and Clueless
Chapter 24: Witches and Friendship
Chapter 25: The Potter Philosophy
Chapter 26: Crime and Punishment
Chapter 27: Foolish Wand Waving
Chapter 28: Friends
Chapter 29: The Journey Begins
Chapter 1: The New Arrival
Author's Notes: After events he cannot possibly understand, Harry Potter is left at his only remaining relatives’ house. The infant quickly finds his life irretrievably changed.
With the exception of the last few chapters, the story has been written. The fantabulous cwarbeck is doing the beta work as we speak, so updates should be quick. As always, cel, thank you for your suggestions and wonderful editing. My commas are in better places because of you! A huge thank you also goes to DQBunny, who provided a pivotal plot suggestion, as well as listened to me piece the story together in its beginning stages.
Note: This chapter contains child neglect.
“Oh, Albus, they’re the worst Muggles imaginable.”
“I understand your concerns, Minerva, but he’ll be protected here better than anywhere else.”
The silver-haired elderly wizard didn’t notice the witch’s sour, tight-lipped reaction as he bent over and gently placed the fifteen-month old baby on the front porch of a suburban house that looked remarkably like every other house on the street named Privet Drive. A thick, warm blanket swaddled the child, exposing only his pale face and a lightning bolt scar on his forehead.
“Good luck, Harry Potter.”
The witch and the wizard left, sealing the boy’s fate for his next ten years.
Harry Potter lay on his paper-thin mattress in the cupboard under the stairs, absently scratching a spider bite on his left arm. The cupboard was located in the house owned by his aunt and uncle, Petunia and Vernon Dursley, who, along with their son, were his only remaining relatives, but not his family, by any stretch of the imagination.
The boy had been protected through the years by a blood charm conjured by Albus Dumbledore, the very same man who had brought him to the house nearly ten years earlier. The wizard had created the strongest protection possible for young Harry, based on the sacrifice Harry’s mother had made when he was just fifteen months old. The magic world’s worst Dark wizard had come to Harry’s house in Godric’s Hollow on Halloween Night with the intent of killing him. His mother, however, had willingly given her life for her son, and it created a bond of protection so strong, that Lord Voldemort’s Killing Curse rebounded from the baby and destroyed the evil wizard’s body, leaving him to exist only in a faint, mist-like form. Harry quickly became the wizarding world’s most famous citizen, known as The-Boy-Who-Lived.
But Harry didn’t know any of this.
He didn’t know where he had lived previously. He didn’t know how his parents died, what they looked like, or even their names. He didn’t know who Albus Dumbledore was or the blood protections he had created. He didn’t know he was famous. And he certainly didn’t know he was a wizard.
What he did know, without a doubt, was that his aunt, his uncle, and his cousin, Dudley, hated him — though he had no idea why they felt that way.
The morning of that long-ago early November day dawned crisp and cool, as it usually did that time of year. The only noise was the rustle of discarded Halloween candy wrappers that swirled in the light breeze that made its way down the otherwise pristine street. That is, until a scream involuntarily escaped from the lips of the lady who lived at number four.
A baby — that baby — lay, no longer sleeping, on her porch, though he was not welcomed with the same enthusiasm that the lady of the house normally reserved for the daily bottles of milk and other dairy products that sat beside him. Quickly realizing both her scream — and the baby lying on the porch — broke the rules of decorum that guided the residents of Privet Drive, the woman grabbed the milk bottles and other items, put them in the refrigerator, and returned for the now squalling infant. As she brought the child inside, she noticed an envelope addressed to her lying on top of the blanket. A second scream rent the air inside the house, as the woman read the brief contents of that letter.
Her screams and the infant’s crying soon disturbed the other inhabitants of number four. Dudley, the much loved nineteen-month old son of Petunia and Vernon Dursley, was now also howling, already adept at getting exactly what he wanted from his doting parents. Hearing her son’s cries, his mother put the other baby on the entry floor and raced up the stairs to her Duddikins. While she soothed her already overweight son, her husband poked his head into the nursery.
“What in blazes was that racket downstairs?” he groused, upset by the disturbance to his daily routine.
Petunia winced at his words, and then took a deep breath. “My sister, Lily, and her husband were killed last night. Someone left their son, Harry, on our porch.”
Vernon’s eyes narrowed, and his voice took on an ominous, soft quality. “Why would anyone in their right mind leave that . . . that . . . freak with us?”
Petunia closed her eyes. “I’m his last living relative. We have to keep him. I’m sorry, Vernon.”
Her husband stared at her, rage rolling off him in waves. Then he turned without saying another word, walked down the hallway to their bedroom, and continued getting ready for work. A few minutes later, Petunia went downstairs and picked up the infant, tears in her eyes.
She whispered, “How could you do this to me, Lily? You know how Vernon felt about you and James and now Harry. This will never work. I’ll never be able to treat him the way you would want. Vernon would kick me out on the street, along with Harry, if I did.”
Vernon eventually came downstairs and ate breakfast without a word. His eyes were still narrowed, occasionally staring at the unwanted addition to his family, then turning to his wife as he attacked the scrambled eggs and sausages, as if they had offended him. Once finished, he left for work, without giving his wife his usual goodbye and kiss on the cheek.
He blames me, was Petunia’s recurring thought throughout the day, and it scared her to death. Vernon was not a prize, she knew that, but he was her prize, and what pounded at her was that he may be the only man who would consider being her husband.
Lily never asked me if I would take Harry, she fumed. She just assumed I would. How could she? They are so different than we are.
Her breath caught painfully in her chest, feeling like a chunk of ice had lodged there. They were so different . . .
Sobs finally wracked her body. They’re dead. There’s no chance of ever reconciling with them. Mum and Dad are gone; Lils and James, too, and we’re left with Harry. Vernon hates anything or anyone different. This is going to be absolutely horrible. Lils, I can’t do this. I’m so sorry.
Petunia broke down, grieving for the sister she had disowned due to her own jealousy and Vernon’s intolerance. Her grief eventually turned to anger at her sister and her ever-so-wonderful and loving husband. Her decision was made.
Harry can live with us, but he can never be part of our family. Vernon would never allow their child to be treated as an equal to Dudley, so we’ll just do the minimum. She never asked me. I can’t jeopardize my marriage for their son. How could Lily do this to me?
Petunia quickly washed her face, then stared at her image in the mirror for a brief second before she squared her shoulders and pursed her lips. Her mind was made up. As the two boys slept, she pulled clothes that Dudley had outgrown from a box in the spare bedroom, cleaned out the cupboard beneath the stairs, and wrestled a thin mattress down the stairs and placed it in the cupboard.
The boy will stay there, she thought, and will not be allowed to disrupt our normal life.
Harry, of course, had no idea he’d been raised in a world entirely different than the one he had just entered. He had been surrounded by magic and magical people for each of his fifteen months. Brooms that flew, levitating objects, household chores that did themselves, and healers that could take care of almost any injury or illness quickly and painlessly were everyday facets of his world. Being that young, the wizard did not think about these marvels; they just existed and he accepted them without question as part of his life.
In the same way, he knew he was loved.
His tall, dark-haired dad and his smaller mum, with the auburn tresses, were the reasons he was so loved. They knew the sun rose and set on their son, that he was special solely because he was theirs, created by their love. Lily and James felt it was important for Harry to know how much they loved him each and every day. They would read and share books with their son, hold him, play and sing to him, tickle and talk with him. They helped their beloved son learn to talk, rejoicing when ‘ma’ and ‘da’ were the first two words he said. They made sure he had lots of friends, so he played regularly with Ron and Neville, and even baby Ginny.
His parents and their best friends, Sirius, Remus, and Peter, also made sure he learned magic. They knew he would be a powerful wizard, when he quickly learned to banish foods he didn’t like, throw and summon toys, and levitate first small, then increasingly larger objects. While the Ministry of Magic called these events “accidental magic” — something that magical children did unknowingly, without thought or wands — Harry’s parents and friends knew better. They were sure Harry knew, at some level at least, exactly what he was doing.
But most of all, they knew he was a flyer. James and Sirius went behind Lily’s back and bought a toy training broom for Harry as soon as he was able to sit up. The two best friends were exciting flyers, and they were committed to seeing their son and godson, respectively, become an even better broom jockey than they were. So, at a way too early age, James and Sirius sat Harry on his first broom, lightly holding him and covering the ground with Cushioning charms. Of course, they did this only when Lily was out of the house.
They were right. Even at that young age, Harry had extraordinary flying skills. Soon, he’d progressed from flying slowly in circles just a foot off the ground to as high as his father’s head, with curves and quick changes in altitude. Best of all, their son laughed the entire time he flew. These unofficial lessons extended uninterrupted until one day when Harry’s increasing vocabulary got his two fathers in big trouble with his mum.
“Ma! Ma!” he yelled, grinning widely. “Broom!”
Lily looked startled at the words, but before she could turn to James, Harry had summoned the broom and ran over to his mum, holding it proudly in his small hands
“Fly!” he laughed.
Lily smiled at Harry, and then nailed James with a redhead’s death stare. “Tell me, James, that you haven’t been teaching our son to fly behind my back.”
He replied by closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’d rather not lie to you, Lils.”
Since James’s eyes were still closed, he missed the smirk on his wife’s face. “Don’t you dare ‘Lils’ me and try to weasel out of this, James Potter.”
He opened his eyes and raised his eyebrows in a pleading fashion. “Sirius bought the broom for Harry. I didn’t want to hurt Sirius’ feelings and tell him Harry couldn’t fly it.”
Lily couldn’t hold the death stare any longer and started laughing so hard she ended up gasping for air. Finally, she calmed down. “James you’re a horrible liar, thankfully. You know how much I love flying. I would have loved seeing Harry learn how to.”
James winced. “I’d prefer you yelling at me, instead of making me feel rotten.” Then, his face brightened. “Do you want to see him fly now? He’s incredible. Of course, with my genes, that’s to be expected.”
By this time, Lily had walked over to James, with Harry beside her, holding her hand.
Whack!
“Don’t do that again, James Potter! I want to see everything Harry learns. Got it?”
James just nodded as he rubbed his sore shoulder.
“Good! Let’s take him outside. Want to fly, Harry?”
“Yeah, Ma! Fly!” he yelled and pulled on her hand.
Once the Cushioning charms were cast, James whispered in Harry’s ear, and the boy kicked off, flying slowly in circles about two feet off the ground.
After about a minute, Lily ran out of patience. “Harry, fly high,” she raised her hand above her head, “and fast,” while she made rapid circles.
Harry screamed with joy, a huge smile lighting up his face. James braced himself for Lily’s explosion as Harry raced around his parents at increasing speed, then added dips and twists, figure eights, and even a dive toward the ground. As Lily screamed, James ducked his head, knowing he was going to be hexed into the middle of next week. Instead, he heard laughter, his wife’s melodic notes in counterpoint to his son’s raucous sounds.
Lily smiled at James. “He’s brilliant, isn’t he?”
A relieved smile spread across James’s face, “He’s going to be an incredible Seeker. I .can’t wait to see him play.”
Lily crossed over to where James was standing and wrapped her arms tightly around her husband. “I can’t wait, either. No more hiding things, right, dear heart?”
“Never again, Lils.” He kissed the top of her head and pulled her close. “This is so much fun. I can’t believe it’s real. There’s so much to look forward to.”
Their world changed drastically after that. A prophecy was made and partially overheard, forcing the Potters into hiding. A Secret Keeper was selected, then deception, sacrifice, and a miracle.
Harry Potter’s life would never be the same.
Hours later, he was delivered to the Dursleys. Even though they were his relatives, he’d never met them before. Whether he would have remembered them didn’t matter, he would have plenty of time to learn about his only remaining relatives.
Harry had no idea why he was there, where his parents were, what had happened to the fun and laughter and love that had been in his life each and every day. He certainly didn’t understand the concept of death, that his parents were gone, never to be seen again, never to talk, sing, hug, kiss, teach, or love him. He didn’t know that the magic had left his life, but he would, all too soon.
Chapter 2: Changes
Author's Notes: Thanks to all of you who took the time to leave a thoughtful review. They were taken into consideration in the writing of this chapter.
Thanks also to the readers who nominated the story in several categories for the November DSTA awards. They are much appreciated and somewhat startling since only one chapter had been posted.
cwarbeck, even more than usual, deserves special recognition for the work she's done, which goes well beyond the usual beta services. Thanks, cel! The same appreciation also is extended to MyGinevra for his excellent suggestions and insights. Thanks, Peter!
Fifteen-month old Harry Potter stood, not too steadily, in the entry hall where that strange lady had left him, wondering where she had gone. He looked around in confusion, thinking this house wasn’t the one he woke up in all the other mornings of his life. A noise startled him, and he looked up to see a very large man lumbering down the stairs. The toddler started to walk towards the man, but he moved past the child as if he weren’t there. A puzzled look came over the boy’s face, and he wondered why the man hadn’t stopped to talk with him or pick him up.
“Ma!” he yelled. “Da!” And he toddled down the hall in the direction the big man had gone.
“Ma! Da!” The infant pushed his way into the kitchen and saw the big man sitting down.
“Ma! Da! Eat!”
“They’re dead, boy!” The big man yelled. “Dead! Gone! They’re never coming back. And we’re stuck with you. Go away and let me eat my breakfast in peace!”
The little boy flinched with each syllable that pummelled him. He couldn’t understand what the man was saying or why he was being shouted at. His stomach felt funny and was making growling noises. He saw an open doorway and walked into that room, so he could get away from the big man and search for his parents or anything that looked familiar.
“Ma! Da! Eat!”
“That’s it. I’ve had enough of your mouth.”
The big man abruptly got up from the table, pounded into the sitting room where Harry had gone, and picked him up, looped a beefy arm around the child’s waist, and marched into the hallway. Vernon Dursley walked towards the stairway that would take him to the spare bedroom, then stopped and looked back at the cupboard.
He needs to learn he’ll never be treated the same as Dudley. With a look of satisfaction, he opened the door to the cupboard under the stairs and unceremoniously dumped the shocked infant onto the mattress, slammed the door and locked it with a satisfied grunt.
“Maybe that’ll shut you up.”
In the few seconds before the door slammed closed behind him, Harry saw that the room was very small and not like any room he had been in before. In truth, it was unfinished, with a concrete floor and exposed wood studs. The underside of the stairs that went to the floor above was visible. Several spider webs and their inhabitants were to be found in the corners of the dank cupboard. Dust had accumulated everywhere, loosened through the years by the many trips the Dursleys had made up and down the stairs. A single light bulb dangled from an electrical cord toward the top of the enclosed space.
Harry squinted, trying to see in the unlit cupboard. His nose began to feel ticklish, finally ending in a series of sneezes. Once they stopped and his breathing returned to normal, thought after thought raced through his young mind.
Why had he been placed in this dark, little room?
Where were his ma and da?
Why was he in this strange house, and who were these people who yelled at him?
Finally, frightened and exhausted, he lay down on the mattress and fell asleep.
Not much later, light flooding into the cupboard woke him, when the strange lady opened the door. Harry immediately squeezed his eyes closed to keep the light from hurting them.
“Come on out, Harry.”
The boy looked at her curiously and walked into the hallway, blinking rapidly to get used to the light. The big man stood at the doorway, an irritated look on his face.
“We’ll talk about him when I get back from work tonight.”
The woman nodded and walked down the short hallway, as her husband departed for work. Harry followed her into the kitchen and saw a chubby blond-haired boy standing by a table. The woman stopped and looked between the two boys and the table.
Dudley needs to use the high chair, but Harry won’t be able to reach the table if he sits on a regular chair. It would be too dangerous to have him sit on phone books. She looked around a few more seconds then nodded her head.
“You can eat here.”
She pointed at the floor in front of the kitchen sink and laid out a large towel. Once Harry was sitting down, she placed a plastic plate with a handful of dry cereal and fruit in front of him.
“Go ahead and eat, Harry.”
Then, she picked up her son, Dudley, placed him in the high chair, and brought over the warm cereal she’d just made. While Harry ate, the woman sat by the other boy and cooed at him in a soft, sing-song voice. Occasionally, she would rub his shoulder or pat his arm. Once breakfast was finished, she brought out several pieces of paper and a large box of crayons, giving most of the paper and all but four of the crayons to her son.
“Here you are, Duddikins. Draw anything you want.”
She walked over to her nephew. “I guess you know what crayons and drawing are.” With a shrug, she put the lone piece of paper on the towel and handed the few crayons to the boy. “Colour only on the paper,” she said, pointing at the paper she had just put down.
Harry smiled and started drawing on the sheet, as the woman began cleaning up the kitchen. When she was done, she walked over to her son to see what he had drawn.
Oh, my, she thought.
Petunia stared at Dudley’s drawing — if it could be called that. It consisted primarily of thick slashes across the paper, mostly in black, with a little bit of purple mixed in. His mother stared at the sheet, trying to figure out what her son had drawn but couldn’t come up with anything it remotely resembled.
She picked up the piece of paper and put another one in front of her son. “Dudley, this is wonderful. Now, try to draw the ball.” She pointed to it and handed a sky blue crayon to him.
Walking over to Harry, her eyebrows flew up her forehead. I should have known. Both Lily and James were so creative. Her breath caught in her chest, as she looked at a colourful picture of a broom, with three stick figures standing by it. The much smaller figure had black hair like the tallest figure, and the other had long red hair. Tears flooded unbidden into her eyes. Oh, Lils.
She turned the piece of paper over. “Draw something else, Harry.” He looked up and smiled, and Petunia started cleaning the already clean kitchen counters.
Several minutes later, she glanced at Harry’s drawing and gasped. It looked to be a picture of his first birthday — a celebration they had received an invitation to but ignored. The drawing showed several boxes, which she assumed were the presents, with lots of stick people around them, some small, others larger. Blinking rapidly, Petunia picked up the paper.
“Boys, let’s go into the backyard and play.”
She walked over to her son and picked up his two drawings — the second featured lines like mountain peaks; a few were in sky blue, but the majority were again in black. The crayon was lying to the side of the paper, broken in half. Petunia put the two drawings and Harry’s pictures on the kitchen counter.
Even though it was mild for early November, she bundled the boys up. The sleeves on Harry’s hand-me-down sweatshirt had to be rolled up numerous times so his hands wouldn’t be covered, and it reached down to the middle of his thighs. Likewise, the legs of the jeans he wore were folded several times, so they wouldn’t extend beyond his feet. Petunia grabbed the ball that was lying on the dining area floor and escorted the boys into the backyard.
Harry started running around, while Dudley marched over to the ball and kicked it as hard as he could. Harry saw the ball rolling in his direction, so he moved over to it, while the bigger boy stalked the ball.
As Harry neared the ball, Dudley yelled, “No!” and Harry’s head jerked up, a surprised expression on his face, but after a few puzzled seconds, he kicked the ball anyway and continued running, laughing as he chased after it. Dudley lumbered after Harry, then quickly gave up and walked toward the ball again.
Petunia watched the activities closely, a gnawing feeling growing in her stomach. She sat down on a bench as memories flooded through her.
Mrs Evans opened the door and the usually kind woman stared at the person standing on their front porch. The stern-looking, rather elderly stranger wore an outfit that was more appropriate for a Halloween party. Fourteen-year old Petunia peered around her mother, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open.
The stranger spoke first, since Petunia’s mum seemed to be tongue-tied. “I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress with a special school that your daughter, Lily, qualifies for. If she’s home, I would like to take a few minutes of your time to explain about the school and why Lily qualifies.”
Even Petunia could feel the commanding aura surrounding the visitor, and her mum let the woman into the house. Petunia ran upstairs and brought Lily down. Fifteen minutes later, the three Evans females sat in stunned silence.
They had a witch in the family.
Each had an entirely different reaction.
Mrs Evans smiled. “This is a bit shocking, isn’t it?” Her expression turned thoughtful. “So, Lily will learn all sorts of useful spells that can be used around the house and for everyday life.”
Professor McGonagall nodded. “That is right.”
Lily’s emerald eyes sparkled. “That explains all the things I did that I didn’t know how I did them.”
The professor smiled. “Most magical children do what we call ‘accidental magic.’ Since no other members of your family are magical, you had no way of knowing what you were doing. Just so you know, magical children coming from non-magical families are called Muggleborns in our world. You also should know the ability to do magic is not adversely affected by being Muggleborn.”
Petunia felt alone again, left behind by her brilliant younger sister. “Why aren’t I a witch?” she spat out.
The professor answered softly. “We don’t know why some children in Muggle families are magical and others aren’t. We do know somewhere in the family history there was a wizard or witch, and the gene was passed through the generations. Why a specific child gets that gene and another doesn’t is just luck, I presume. What I can tell you is that we have a register that automatically records the birth of all magical children. That’s why we knew of Lily.”
“And why you knew that I’m not like her.” Petunia abruptly stood up, glared at her mum, her sister, and the visitor, and then raced out of the room and up the stairs. A few seconds later, they heard the sound of a door being slammed shut.
From that day forward, the jealousy Petunia had held back for many years was finally allowed to surface, until it came to dominate how she felt about her sister. Each summer, Lily would return from Hogwarts with amazing stories, and her once close relationship with Petunia would slip further away.
When Lily brought James Potter home to meet her parents, the relationship with Petunia was severed forevermore. Petunia was engaged to the much-disliked Vernon Dursley. When her older sister saw the handsome, personable, funny, and very magical James Potter, all of Vernon’s faults seemed to magnify in Petunia’s eyes. Simply put, James was everything Vernon wasn’t and yet another example of how superior her sister was to her.
Petunia vowed to cut Lily, James, and magic out of her life. She never spoke to her sister again.
“You hoo! Mrs Dursley?”
Petunia shook her head to stop the memory she had revisited. She looked up to see her next door neighbour peering over the fence, a curious glint in the woman’s eyes.
“Hello, Mrs Nostrom.” Petunia forced a smile onto her face and walked over to the fence the two backyards shared.
“Are we babysitting today?” Mrs Nostrom asked, with an arched eyebrow and a probing glance at Harry, who was still cheerily running after the ball while Dudley sat on his fat bottom and sulked.
“No.” Petunia hesitated, not knowing how much to tell her gossipy neighbour about Harry. “We will be taking care of the young boy. It’s a long, boring story; nothing you’d be interested in.”
She quickly turned towards the boys. “Time to go inside.”
As soon as the words were uttered, Petunia saw Harry raise his hand and the ball that sat three or four meters from him began rolling towards the small boy.
“Come on, boys. Quickly now.”
She turned to say goodbye to Mrs Nostrom, only to be greeted with a wide-eyed, open-mouthed, incredulous look on the woman’s face.
“I better get the boys inside. Getting chilly. Talk with you soon.” Petunia said nervously, and then she literally grabbed both boys by the shoulders and marched them as quickly as she could back inside the house.
As soon as she was beyond the prying eyes of her neighbour, Petunia set Dudley and Harry down on the dining area floor and sank heavily into one of the chairs.
She must have seen Harry do that. Her eyes looked like they were going to pop out of her head. Petunia sat and thought through the alternatives available to her. I’ll just laugh and deny seeing anything like that. Who would believe that a child could make a ball roll to him without touching it?
Harry’s uses his magic without even thinking about it. Of course, he grew up with magic all around him. We can’t let him do that here. But how do we teach someone his age not to do what he’s done all his life? Vernon hates anything different. God, this is going to be horrible.
A frustrated cry brought Petunia back from her thoughts. She searched for Dudley and found him standing by the kitchen counter, trying to reach a piece of fruit Harry hadn’t eaten from earlier.
“Mine!” he cried.
His mother retrieved the sliver of banana and gave it to her ever-growing son.
“More!”
Petunia immediately cut up another banana, picked up her son, and carried him and the snack to the table. From there, she could see Harry sitting on the floor in the next room, reading one of Dudley’s picture books. Instead of flipping quickly through the pages, her nephew concentrated on each one, his small fingers tracing the bright images.
I’m sure Lily read to him every night. Her sarcastic tone shocked her. I can’t think that way. He’s only a child and doesn’t know what happened between us. She looked at her sister’s son, and then turned back and watched her son wolf down the banana slices. It can’t be happening again.
As soon as Dudley finished his snack, his mother lugged him upstairs for a nap. The boy swatted at the colourful mobile that was attached to the side of the crib, as his mother gently placed him on the mattress. Petunia rubbed his back and ran her fingers through his wavy blond hair, until the boy feel asleep.
Returning to the sitting room, she said, “Harry, time for your nap.”
The toddler got up and headed for the stairs.
His bedroom must have been upstairs. Petunia shivered, even though the temperature in the house was comfortable. I don’t even know what their house looked like.
“In here, Harry.” She walked over to the cupboard and opened the door.
The boy looked up the stairs again, before returning his eyes to her. Finally, he walked over to the cupboard and lay down on the mattress. After his outdoor activities, Harry quickly fell asleep
Several hours later, Harry woke up and looked around, uncertain where he was. The door to the little room was open, so he got up and followed the sound of voices into the kitchen.
He stood in the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and trying to process where he was.
“Ma? Da?” He looked around the kitchen and dining areas for their familiar faces.
Petunia’s head jerked up. Sadness and frustration fought for dominance on her face. They’re gone, Harry. You’ll never see them again. But I’ll be reminded of Lily and James every time I look at you, with his face and her eyes. She shook her head. He’s a child; he’s blameless.
“Let’s get you some lunch, Harry.”
She ruffled her son’s hair as she rose from the dining table, where Dudley continued to eat his cut-up sandwich and crisps. Quickly, she assembled a small jam sandwich and put it on a plastic plate, half filled a cup with water, and placed them on a towel in front of the kitchen counter.
Harry looked at the food, then the woman, and finally sat on the floor and started eating, as the strange woman watched him. In a few minutes, he had finished everything, save for the crusts on the cut up pieces of bread. As soon as he put a piece in his mouth, he took it out again and stared at it. With a wave of his hand, Harry Vanished all of the crusts.
“No!” his aunt admonished. She hurried over to him, knelt down, and put her hands on his shoulders. “You can’t do that. No magic!”
Harry furrowed his forehead. “No?”
His aunt tried to calm herself. Taking a deep breath, she said, “We don’t do magic here. You can’t do things like that anymore.”
The boy stared blankly at her.
He doesn’t understand what I’m saying. He probably doesn’t even know it’s magic and that most people don’t know it exists. This is impossible. How are we ever going to raise him?
She retrieved the picture book Harry had been reading earlier and handed it to the boy.
“Read your book, Harry.”
Several times during the day, his aunt watched Harry wander around the house, as if he had misplaced something important and wanted to find it again. Sometimes he would just stand in the middle of a room and look around in confusion, like he was lost.
She could sense that nothing felt familiar and comfortable for her nephew. Nothing — the rooms, the furnishings, and especially the people — was what he knew. He finally returned to the kitchen and resumed reading the book she had given him.
He’s so confused. He has no idea what happened and how permanent the changes are. Why can’t I feel more kindly and protective towards him? He didn’t cause any of this. He had nothing to do with his parents’ deaths or the decision to be left with us. Why do I resent him so much?
Harry lay on the thin mattress, rubbing his stomach, and wondering where his parents were. He closed his eyes and saw his red-haired mum standing next to his smiling dad. They were in the sitting room, in front of the blazing fireplace, which cast an almost golden glow over the room. The boy fell asleep, with the image of his ma picking him up and holding him close to her.
“We’re so sorry, Harry.”
The boy was sitting on the floor. A very faint light surrounded him, leaving the rest of the room in darkness. He was looking at a woman, who stood several meters from him. She appeared to be grey and shadowy, as if she weren’t all there. Tears moved down her face.
A tall man joined her. He, too, was grey, even his face and hands. He looked mad, and the boy backed away from him. The infant didn’t know who these people were, since their faces weren’t clear.
“I can’t believe Albus placed our son with the Dursleys.”
“James, you know there’s nothing we can do. Albus did what he thought was best for Harry. You know he places great faith in old magic, and the blood protection ward he created from my action is one of the oldest forms.”
“I know, but I still don’t like this, Lils. This is so hard. Merlin, I wish I could hug him.”
“James, think of poor Harry. He doesn’t understand what happened or that we’ll never be part of his life again, and he won’t have magic like before.”
James flared up again. “That’s why I don’t agree with Albus’ decision. He should have let Harry stay with Sirius, Remus, the Longbottoms, or the Weasleys, not these magic-hating Muggles.”
“It’s done, James. We can’t do anything about it anymore. We need to talk with Harry. There are only a few minutes before we have to leave him.”
Lily and James tried to reassure their son with soft, encouraging words, but they knew he had no idea who they were, since their faces and bodies were obscured. All too quickly, their time was over.
“Goodbye, Harry. We’ll always be watching over you.” The tears flowed down Lily’s cheeks.
“We love you, son.” James could barely choke out the words.
Seconds later they both disappeared from the boy’s dream, but he continued to sleep.
While the boys slept that evening, Vernon and Petunia Dursley discussed what to do with their unwelcome visitor. Petunia handed several pieces of paper to her husband.
He glanced at them. “So?”
“Dudley drew two; Harry the other two.”
The large man looked more closely this time. “Dudley’s are these scribbles? Shite! It’s happening again. We cannot have that boy make Dudley look bad.”
Petunia nodded her head, while her husband’s face took on an unusually thoughtful expression.
“Everything would be a whole lot better if you would be more like him,” the large man snarled at the eight-year old boy.
“I’ll try. I - I really w - will,” the boy promised. “I’m s - sorry I can’t do b - better.” The boy fought his increasing embarrassment, as well as the tears that were threatening to spill.
The man laughed sarcastically. “You might as well get used to it. You’ll never be as good as he is at anything. And do something about that stuttering. It irritates the hell out of me.” The man smacked the back of the younger boy’s head. “Maybe that’ll help.”
The bigger boy joined the man’s laughter. “Forget it, Vernon. You’ll never amount to anything. Look at you. You’re fat and ugly.”
Neither could be said of the eleven-year old boy, who was taunting his younger brother. Darian Dursley was the pride of his parents, especially his dad. He was good-looking while Vernon was not, tall for his age, with an athlete’s lithe physique. He had enough intelligence to do well in school and to know just how far to go when he ventured from being a model student, making sure his friends took the blame and not him. His attitude was just this side of cocky, because he knew he’d somehow lucked out in the gene lottery. That attitude charmed adults and most kids his age. But he looked down in disgust at his younger brother, who was overweight, not athletic, and not very bright. To Darian, his brother Vernon was an embarrassment that somehow detracted from his own golden image.
Vernon spoke forcefully to his wife, “I wouldn’t be the man I am today, if my father hadn’t disciplined me when I was growing up. If I acted up, I’d be punished, sometimes with his belt. My father wanted high achievers and wouldn’t settle for anything less. Darian,” Petunia raised her nose in disgust, “was the achiever when we were younger. I wasn’t, so my father beat it into me. We need to do the same with the Potter boy to make sure he behaves the way we want him to.”
The large man continued talking. “I can’t imagine what those weirdoes were thinking of, leaving him with us. It’s damn expensive feeding and clothing a boy. I want people to look at Potter like he’s a tramp, so he’ll get Dudley’s discards. I’m not going to have Dudley feel second best to anyone, especially Potter, and I’m not going to spend a penny on him.”
Petunia Dursley certainly knew about feeling second best. Even though she was three years older than Lily, her sister had surpassed her in every way possible. Lily was much prettier, with her thick, auburn hair, compared to Petunia’s thin, mousy brown. Lily was trim and athletic, while Petunia had a horsy look and an angular figure. Lily did much better at school and was always popular with her classmates. Petunia felt like an outsider most of the time.
And, of course, Lily was magical, like her son.
Petunia stared fiercely at her husband. “There is no way our Dudley will ever be second best to another Potter.”
Vernon knew his wife’s feelings. “We’re agreed, then. Potter gets nothing from us.”
After a minute’s thought, Petunia said, “We shouldn’t take the boy anywhere we go. He’ll attract attention with that horrible scar, and there’s too much risk of him doing something . . . unnatural.”
Vernon smiled. “Good idea. The fewer people that see him, the better.”
The next morning, Harry woke up, wondering why he was in a dark, little room, instead of his usual bedroom. As soon as he heard sounds outside his cupboard, he cried out loudly, while his stomach growled from hunger.
Harry heard a big clumping noise come down the stairs above him, along with more dust, then footsteps coming toward his room.
“Shut up, boy! Stop your squalling.”
The boy winced when the man banged on his door and stalked down the hall. Then, he remembered that he was in this other house with these strange people and the big boy.
Where are ma and da? he wondered.
Sometime later, the big man left, and his door was opened. “Well, come on out,” the woman said.
Harry blinked to offset the brightness of the light, and then followed the woman into the kitchen, watching as she prepared breakfast for the other boy and him.
Petunia looked at her nephew. I’m sorry, Harry, but we can’t have you outshining Dudley. I couldn’t live through that again. I won’t hurt you, but I have to make sure you don’t do any magic or anything else creative. She closed her eyes. I’m so sorry, Lily.
“Time to eat.”
She sat Dudley at the table and set a plate of pancakes, with lots of sugar sprinkled on top, in front of him. “Eat up, Duddikins.” She pecked him on the cheek and squeezed his shoulder.
Harry was sitting on his towel on the floor, looking expectantly at the woman. She placed a plate with sugar-coated dry cereal in front of him, along with a cup of water. Petunia opened her mouth, then closed it and turned away.
The two toddlers quickly finished their breakfast. The woman cleaned up the mess her son had created, pulled him out of the high chair, kissed him on the cheek, and put him on the ground. Moving into the kitchen, she collected Harry’s plate and cup, placed them and Dudley’s dishes into the dishwasher, and shook the crumbs from the towel into the sink. She felt a tug on the hem of her dress and looked down to see Harry gazing at her, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Fly! Broom!”
He tried to summon his broom several times but nothing happened. He looked around for his parents, wondering why his broom wasn’t coming to him and where his parents were. He looked at the woman again.
His aunt frantically looked around, as if there were people in the house, other than her son and nephew.
“Harry, hush. Don’t say that.” The skinny lady pleaded.
“Fly! Broom!” Harry started running around, looking for his broom, but he didn’t see anything familiar.
“Stop it!” the woman said sharply. “Stop talking like that.”
Harry cringed at the words being thrown at him and the woman’s upset expression. She hurried over to the young boy and snatched him up.
“You can’t talk like that,” she whispered and put him back into the cupboard, locking the door behind him. You can’t do magic anymore, Harry. We can’t allow that to happen.
“Broom?” the boy asked, wondering where it was and why the lady was so upset.
Tears ran down the boy’s face, as he reached for his blanket and lay down again. His energy had faded and so had his smile. Soon, he fell asleep.
Several days later, Petunia was out front, watering her rose bushes. Her snooty neighbour from across the street, Mrs Fabersham, came over.
“How are you today, Petunia? How is that new boy of yours doing?”
Petunia tried to smile at the woman. “I’m doing fine. How about you?”
The neighbour’s supercilious smile remained. “Doing well, thank you.” She lowered her voice. “You know there are rumours about your new boy, don’t you? That he’s different.” She arched an eyebrow.
Petunia swallowed her gasp and forced a smile. “Oh, yes. He is small for his age. We’re sure he’ll grow out of it eventually.” Turning off the water, she added, “Have to get inside and make lunch. So nice talking with you.”
Once she was inside the house, she noticed Harry was reading a picture book in the sitting room, where he could be seen from the street.
“Come back here, Harry.” The boy looked up, and she gestured toward the kitchen area, where he couldn’t be seen. A puzzled look crossed the boy’s face, but he got up and toddled into the kitchen as requested.
Later that night, after the boys had been put to bed, Vernon and Petunia sat down at the dining room table.
Petunia looked nonplussed. “Mrs Fabersham came over today when I was out front. She wanted to make the point that the neighbours think Harry is different.”
Vernon’s eyes widened. “What did you say?”
“I just commented that he is small for his age. But I know she was referring to Mrs Nostrom next door seeing Harry do magic in the backyard.”
“We can’t let people see him do that stuff. I don’t even want to think of the questions and inquiries that would result. We’d be forced to move.” He turned a beady eye to his wife. “Petunia, I won’t have that happen to us. Do you understand?”
His wife nodded her head. “Talking to the boy isn’t working.”
“Then you’ll have to get his attention in other ways.”
Petunia nodded her head again.
Magic is so natural to Harry he doesn’t even know he’s doing anything. No wonder he doesn’t understand when I tell him to stop. I don’t want to punish him, but Vernon is getting more upset. I know he blames me for this.
As the weeks went by, Harry’s magic became increasingly disturbing to the Dursleys. The family was sitting at the dinner table. Harry, as usual, was on his towel in the kitchen, where the two adults could watch him. He made a face and Vanished some stale crackers that tasted funny.
“Boy! You can’t do that here,” bellowed his uncle. The boy’s body trembled, and he blinked rapidly.
The big man quickly walked around the table and shook the small boy by the shoulders, and then shoved him into the dark cupboard.
Returning to the table, Vernon Dursley lectured his wife. “We can’t allow his unnaturalness to continue.”
Aunt Petunia closed her eyes. “If we punish him every time he uses,” she hesitated, “well, you know what, maybe he’ll stop doing those things. After a while, he could forget about it. I thought I could stop it by scolding and putting him in the cupboard, but that hasn’t worked.”
“You have to get his attention, and the only way to do that is to hit the boy like I was when I was his age. You’ll watch for those freakish things during the day?” Petunia nodded her head. “I won’t tolerate anymore of this, Petunia. You’ve got to stop him.”
Vernon glared at his wife. “If any of this came out — him being a freak and you a sister of one — I would be run out of Grunnings. You don’t know what it’s like down there. The managers above me always try to take credit for what I’ve done, and the ponces below are constantly trying to go around me. It’s an effing jungle, and they would tear me apart if any of this became known.”
She stared at her husband, knowing exactly what he was implying. It’s Harry or me. Vernon won’t allow the magic to continue. If I can’t stop it, Vernon will dump me.
“I know,” she answered. “I don’t want that weirdness in my house, like I had with my sister. As far as I’m concerned, he won’t even know he can do those things, after I’m through with him. And we won’t tell him anything about his parents, so he won’t know his . . . abilities.”
Forgive me, Lily.
Chapter 3: Conflict
Author's Notes: Happy Holidays, everyone!
As always, thanks to my fantabulous beta, cwarbeck, and to DQBunny for reviewing this chapter.
Thanks also to everyone who nominated and/or voted for the story for the November DSTAs. I'm overwhelmed by your response.
This chapter is dedicated to Knightsbridge, for reasons he knows all too well. Thanks, Darian, for being so open and sharing your experiences.
Please note: The Dursleys continue to treat Harry in the same manner described in chapters one and two.
Something startled Harry Potter, waking him from a dream and causing him to sit up quickly, sweat beading on his forehead and beginning to form on his back.
What was that noise?
He looked around, a puzzled expression growing on his pale face.
Where am I?
This isn’t my room or my bed. There’re no windows or light.
The small boy rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
Where’s Ma and Da?
He slowly reached out his hand, retracting it instinctively when he touched something wooden. He gulped a ragged breath, the air hurting him as it was shoved into his chest. The boy’s body collapsed on itself when realization eliminated the tense feelings.
I’m still with the Dursleys.
He blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears; anger building inside him.
Why did Ma and Da leave me? They didn’t say anything. Where are they? Will they ever come for me?
A sharp knock on the cupboard door and the sound of the lock sliding open caught Harry’s attention. He swiped at the moisture that had accumulated around his eyes and stretched his arms, legs, and back, trying to work out the kinks he felt every morning.
With a deep breath, he got up and walked stiffly into the kitchen for his usual breakfast of dry, sugary cereal, with no milk, and a few pieces of cut up fruit. He sat down on the towel by the kitchen cabinets and started eating. His presence was not acknowledged by his aunt, uncle, or cousin, who were seated at the dining table.
Harry stared at the many brightly wrapped presents that surrounded his cousin. A very large cake, with the number three sitting on top, sat in the middle of the table.
“Gimme!” Dudley stared at the cake and then at his mother.
“Oh, Duddy, that’s for after you open all your wonderful presents.” She smiled and ruffled his hair.
Dudley swung his hand at his mother’s arm, and she quickly pulled it back. “Gimme cake,” yelled the enormously pudgy boy.
His father began laughing. “Go ahead and give him a piece, Petunia. He’s a growing boy.” He patted the boy’s shoulder, while his son scowled.
Harry smiled to himself when his aunt quickly cut a piece and placed it in front of the birthday boy, thinking that Dudley always got what he wanted. But then his thoughts quickly turned gloomy.
When is my birthday? I’ve never got anything. Do I have a birthday?
“What are you staring at, boy?” His uncle’s question and beady-eyed stare startled Harry.
“N . . .nothing, Unca.”
“You weren’t invited to Dudley’s party,” the large man sneered. “Go back to your room.
Petunia looked at her husband with disappointment on her face, but Harry saw it quickly pass, replaced by a smile when she looked at her son. Harry walked out of the kitchen and into the hallway. Through the sitting room window, he could see the mulberry tree in the front yard with its leaves just beginning to bud, but there weren’t enough yet to hide the two sparrows sitting on one of the upper branches. Across the street, the colourful tops of some flowers were just beginning to poke through the ground. The sound of his aunt’s voice brought his attention back inside the house.
“Oh, Duddikins, you’re going to look so handsome in that shirt. I love you all up.”
Then, Harry heard the sound of several loud kisses, followed closely by what had to be Dudley ripping the paper off his next gift.
Did my parents ever love me?
Why did they leave me?
The little boy’s face turned from sombre to smiling as he stifled a laugh until he had entered his cupboard. Don’t think Aunt or Uncle or Dudley will say that to me.
Harry sat on his mattress in the cupboard, absently rolling up the cuffs of his trousers which had pooled at his feet. He closed his eyes, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t see the face of either his ma or da. All he remembered were his mother’s warm smile, her red hair and green eyes, and his father’s dark, messy hair and glasses.
Harry tried to remember when he lived with his parents, when everything he did had brought approval through smiles, laughter, kind words, and loving touches. He pulled his blanket close to his chest, rocked back and forth, and rubbed the satin that extended along one edge.
He closed his eyes again, vaguely recalling how his parents and their friends talked to him with soft, happy words, how they would hold him, let him sit on their lap or up on their shoulders. He would play, have stories read to him, throw the ball, and fly on his broom. He shuddered when he thought of making the ball come to him.
Aunt Petunia yelled and put me in the cupboard when she saw that. She said I can’t do those things.
Harry tried to think of where he used to live, but instead, his aunt’s and uncle’s faces appeared in his mind.
“Stop running around, Harry. You’re disturbing Dudley,” Aunt Petunia pleaded.
“Stop that! You can’t do that freakiness anymore!” his uncle bellowed.
Whenever he was within reach, his uncle would make sure he understood he was not supposed to do whatever he was being reprimanded for.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“You’re nothing but a burden for us!”
The boy finally understood why he was punished so often.
I’m bad.
I’m a freak.
I do things I shouldn’t.
But other voices wanted to be heard.
“I love you, Harry.” His mum’s voice sounded like music.
“Isn’t he an amazing flyer, Sirius?” His da’s words warmed him.
“I can’t believe how strong his magic is.” Two of his parents’ friends spoke with each other.
The small boy finally stopped rocking and lay down. Soon, he fell asleep.
The weather had turned warm like it was wont to each July. Mr and Mrs Dursley again were seated at the dining room table, discussing their almost three-year old nephew.
Vernon smiled at his wife. “Have you noticed? The boy doesn’t run around like he’s on drugs any more. He’s much quieter. Best of all, I haven’t seen him do anything unnatural for months.”
Petunia shut her eyes, then quickly opened them again and forced a smile. “He seems almost dull now; he hardly talks, he sleeps more, and Dudley acts like he’s a year or two older.”
We’ve treated him so badly the light has left his eyes. They’re nothing like Lily’s any more, only a dull grey green, she continued guiltily in her mind, but she immediately suppressed those thoughts and smiled once more at her husband.
July 31st, Harry’s third birthday, had come and gone without even a comment from his new family. There had been no birthday wishes, no cake, celebration, and certainly no presents. To Harry, as to his relatives, it was just another summer day. The toddler lay on his mattress, sleeping again, even though it was only late morning. For once, it was a good dream, not the usual chases, frightening green light, or being left alone in the dark.
A large black dog bounded around him as he laughed and tried to pet it. The dog flopped on the grass behind the house and rolled onto its back, paws waving in the air and its tongue lolling out of its mouth. When he walked over to pet the dog, it changed into a man with longish black hair, who picked him up and started twirling him in the air. His parents were seated nearby with another person. They were smiling and laughing and cheering. The boy could even hear himself laughing. He felt free and happy.
Thump, thump!
“Get up!” someone said, followed by the sound of the lock sliding open.
Harry got up and rubbed his eyes, still thinking of the dream.
“Where’s broom? I fly!”
His aunt looked at him and whispered, “Don’t say those words, Harry. There is no broom. You can’t fly. You can’t do those things anymore.”
Harry stared at her. Then he saw one of Dudley’s toys, a rubber ball, sitting on the floor not far from him. The boy’s eyes narrowed, and he sharply threw his arm towards the ball, sending it flying across the room until it smacked into the wall.
Aunt Petunia’s head snapped up from preparing lunch. Her voice sounded sharp and distressed.
“You know you can’t do magic here.” Then, she noticed a slight smudge the ball had made on the wall. “Look what you’ve done,” she said, a slight frown on her face.
She grabbed a sponge and directed the boy towards the offending wall. “You have to clean this, Harry,” she said and she handed the sponge to him.
Tears started falling as the boy reacted to his punishment. He wiped the tears away with the heel of his hand, then picked up the sponge and rubbed it over the spot until it was as clean as the rest of the wall. He walked over to his aunt.
“S . . . sorry.”
His aunt sighed. At least Vernon wasn’t home.
“Harry, you have to learn not to make problems for us. Now, into your room, until I say you can come out again.” She pointed the toddler in the direction of the cupboard under the stairs.
The boy’s eyes, which had briefly been excited when he woke from his dream, had already returned to their usual dull colour, the dream and his happiness already forgotten.
As soon as he entered his room and sat on the mattress, the door was closed and latched. The abrupt noise startled the boy and caused the air to catch in his chest, making his breathing ragged and uneven. Soon after that he began to rock back and forth, his blanket clutched tightly in his small hand, his thumb in his mouth, and his head bent forward.
With Harry in the cupboard, and Dudley already down for his nap, Petunia Dursley walked back into the kitchen and began taking the dirty dishes out of the dishwasher, so she could wash them by hand. This was one of the chores she did when she needed to think. She found the activity relaxing, and it allowed her to think without interruption because Vernon never helped her.
I don’t know how I can stop Harry from doing magic. If any of the neighbours saw him, the rumours would kill us. What if someone contacted the authorities? How would we ever explain it?
I guess I could deny it one time, but what would happen if someone else saw him? Would the authorities take him away? What if he did magic in front of them? I don’t even want to think what would happen to him.
How do I stop Harry without hurting him? I don’t care what Vernon says. I can’t hit the child. It’s bad enough . . .
Petunia bit her lip and scrubbed furiously at a plate.
Lily must be incensed that we ended up with their son, after how poorly we treated them. We ignored their wedding. Ignored Harry’s birth. Ignored his first birthday. Now, there’s nothing I can do.
She shook her head and continued washing and rinsing the dishes, thinking of, and then quickly discarding several ideas.
Finally, the intense expression on her face dissolved.
Maybe there is something I can do. If I keep Harry busy enough doing creative things, like drawing, making things from clay, reading, simple math and writing when he gets old enough, maybe he won’t want to do magic. Maybe he’ll just forget it. If he does do magic, I’ll continue to put him in his cupboard. That could help him learn he can’t do that anymore. I just have to make sure Vernon doesn’t see any of this. He’d explode if he found out.
Petunia tried to stifle a shudder, as tears began to form.
After the boys woke up from their nap, Aunt Petunia gathered several pieces of paper and some crayons and placed Harry in Dudley’s high chair.
Dudley’s forehead furrowed. “Mine!” He stalked towards Harry, but his mother intercepted him.
“It’s okay, Diddikins. You and I will go outside and play.”
The large boy scowled at his cousin but didn’t protest any more. His mother picked up a ball from the nearby toy chest and carried it and her son into the back yard. Harry didn’t notice their departure, since he was bent over the paper, already drawing.
“Eat!” Dudley demanded, as soon as he and his mother returned later from playing outside.
Aunt Petunia quickly went over to Harry, lifted him out of Dudley’s high chair, and placed him on the kitchen floor.
“Keep drawing, Harry.”
Petunia picked up her son and placed him in the chair. Slicing a banana and adding several biscuits to the plate, she took it over to her son, who immediately started wolfing down the snack.
The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully. Petunia read to the boys, with Dudley on her lap and Harry next to her in a chair. Just before Vernon returned from work, she gathered up Harry and his drawings and put them in the cupboard, before starting preparations for dinner.
“How’s my big man?” Vernon Dursley greeted his son. He picked up the boy and tossed him in the air several times. Continuing to hold the boy, he asked his wife, “Anything unnatural from the other one today?”
“No, just another quiet day. Why don’t you take Dudley to the table? Dinner’s ready.”
Petunia started transferring the meal to the table, and once that was done, she went over to the cupboard and opened the door.
“Dinner’s ready.” She walked back to the kitchen.
Harry waited several seconds while his eyes adjusted to the light, then picked up the three drawings he had made and toddled into the kitchen. Instead of walking over to this towel and the plate of food waiting in front of the cabinets, he headed directly towards his Uncle Vernon, a smile on his face.
“Pictures, Unca!” he said, trying to hand the three drawings to his uncle.
Petunia’s eyes widened, shifting nervously between her husband and her nephew. Vernon grabbed the papers from the little boy’s hand and quickly shuffled through them, his face beginning to mimic the red Harry had used to colour the hair on one of the people he had drawn. Vernon’s eyes narrowed, as he turned his gaze to his wife.
“What’s this about, Petunia?” His cold tone sent chills down her spine.
“Oh, that’s nothing. I took Dudley outside and didn’t want him out there where neighbours could see him. This kept him busy, so he couldn’t create any problems.”
Vernon stared at her for several more seconds. “That makes sense. We don’t want him doing anything freaky that a neighbour could see.” Then he wadded up the drawings, rose from his chair, and binned them, not noticing the disappointed look on his wife’s face or the shock shown by his nephew.
After Harry and Dudley had been put to bed, Vernon and Petunia watched television in the sitting room. During a commercial, Vernon hit the mute button on the remote. Petunia looked up and saw a scowl on her husband’s face, causing her breath to catch in her chest.
“Why in blazes would anyone put that boy with us?” he complained. “The longer he’s here, the more obvious it is he doesn’t belong. We’re nothing like his parents or their ridiculous lifestyle.” He shook his head. “I can’t imagine anyone wanting to be like that, with all that hocus pocus nonsense.”
Petunia clamped down tightly on her emotions, not wanting to show her alarm at her husband’s outburst. “Remember the letter that was left with the boy?”
Vernon shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, as long as the boy calls this his home, he’s protected here. We are, too.” Petunia explained patiently, though she shifted uncomfortably in her chair, a wary look in her eyes.
“So, we’re at risk from the freak that killed his parents?” The coldness in Vernon’s voice sent chills down her back again, but Petunia nodded her head. “Then why doesn’t the boy stay with someone who’s as unnatural as he is?”
Petunia briefly closed her eyes, flinching when she looked up at the hard expression on her husband’s face. “The protection is based on our being blood relatives. It wouldn’t work elsewhere.”
“Because you and the boy are related, that’s why he’s here and can’t be dumped anywhere else?”
“Yes,” Petunia answered, hoping she had kept the apprehension she was feeling out of her voice.
Vernon looked hard at her for a few moments, then turned back to the television, and flicked the sound back on.
Harry stared at his uncle. To the little boy, the man looked enormous, with his large, round head, drooping jowls, beefy shoulders, and protruding stomach. The boy scooted closer to the kitchen cabinets, moving his drawing paper and crayons with him. Harry could feel the anger rolling off the man as he stalked through the kitchen and sat down heavily at the dining table.
Petunia watched her husband, concern etched on her face. Only Dudley, who sat at the table drawing on the paper his mother had given him, was oblivious that something had upset his dad.
“How was work today, Vernon?” Petunia asked hesitantly.
Her husband gave her a black look. “I had an effing review today . . .”
“Vernon? The boys . . .”
“I don’t give a shite about the boys, especially the freak that’s related to you.” He glared at his wife, his face flushing an even deeper crimson. “As I was saying, I had a review today. It wasn’t the usual annual performance evaluation.” His voice rose to a falsetto pitch. “‘We’ve received some complaints from your staff,’ according to Simpkins. The arse knows I should have got his position. He’s out to get me, to make me look bad, and now I have a complaint and a negative review in my personnel file. I could kill him.”
He peered into the kitchen. “When’s dinner going to be ready? You know I hate to wait once I get home.”
“Just a few more minutes, and it will be ready.”
Vernon glared and started reading the newspaper. Dinner was eaten quickly and silently. Harry had remained close to the cabinets, rather than his usual place where his relatives could easily see him. He felt very uncomfortable with the strong emotions still coming from his uncle. The young boy looked up when his uncle got up from the table.
“What are you looking at, freak?” Vernon shouted at the boy, his face immediately turning red. “I’ll teach you . . .”
“Vernon! Um, I’ll just put him in the cupboard. You know, out of sight, out of mind.” While she had been talking, Aunt Petunia quickly walked over and picked up her nephew. “I’ll take care of this. You can just relax.”
With that she quickly walked to the cupboard. Noticing how wide the boy’s eyes were, she held Harry for just a moment. Then she placed him inside and flipped on the light switch. “Harry, why don’t you read? I’ll get a book for you.”
Once Harry was settled, Petunia returned to the dining area and started removing the dishes from the table. Vernon changed into more casual clothes, while his wife rinsed the dishes and put them into the dishwasher. He had resumed reading the paper, by the time Petunia finished with the dishes and joined him at the table.
Vernon looked up. “While I was upstairs changing, another thought came to me about your nephew.” His eyes narrowed, which Petunia always took as a warning sign. “There’s another reason we need to control the boy. He’s so different that the neighbours talk about him. He brings the wrong type of attention to us. You know how these people spy and talk behind our backs.”
Petunia nodded her head. She knew all too well, because, in truth, she was one of those people. A major portion of her life was spent spying out the window, trying to see something that could be used against other neighbours and bring down their reputation. Petunia felt it was easier to feel superior by talking negatively about other people, rather than being nice and a good neighbour herself.
After Vernon and Petunia got married, they had looked all over the London suburbs for the perfect place to live. They thought they had found it on Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. When they drove down the street for the first time, their eyes lit up.
“Vernon! Every house looks exactly the same as all the others,” Petunia said excitedly.
“I noticed. Isn’t it perfect? If the house is decent inside, I think we’ve found our new home.”
Petunia smiled. “I didn’t think we’d get this lucky.”
Vernon and Petunia didn’t have a clue what they were getting into.
Vernon rubbed the bridge of his nose and continued talking about his nephew. “I like the fact that all of the houses are similar to each other. That way no one lords it over the others that they’re better than every one else. Even the gossiping didn’t bother me, until your nephew arrived.” He stared at his wife. “That boy is a threat to our family. He’s much smarter than Dudley and can make him look bad. Plus, these people who say they’re our friends would turn on us in a second if they knew what he was.” He glared at her. “If I want to punish him when he’s done some unnatural, you’ll not stop me again. Do you understand that?”
Petunia desperately tried to keep her eyes from widening in shock. He’s threatening me, dear God. This is the first time he’s ever done that. “I understand, Vernon. The last thing we want is to be a target of the neighbourhood gossip.”
Moisture began forming on Vernon’s forehead. “What scares me the most is his, ah, other abilities. You never know when he’s going to do something. We can’t have those people staring at us and talking behind our backs. We’ve got to squeeze every last ounce of unnaturalness out of him.” His eyes bored into his wife’s. “We can’t let him create problems for us.”
Petunia took a deep breath. “You’re right.”
Her husband nodded his head, indicating the conversation was over.
She got up from the chair and quickly walked into the kitchen. Petunia picked up a sponge and started scrubbing the pristine counters. Only when Vernon moved into the sitting room did she allow her emotions to surface. Her shoulders shook, and she blinked rapidly to stem the tears that had accumulated and were ready to overflow.
I won’t be able to protect Harry from Vernon when he’s upset, and I can’t risk having him see me treating the boy well. Lily, this is so hard. If Vernon threw me out, I don’t know what I would do.
She continued to mindlessly wipe the counter, not seeing the tears that had fallen to mar the immaculate surface.
I’m so sorry.
The warmth of summer faded into the increasing chill of fall. Harry was playing on the floor in the hallway that connected the entry to the kitchen. He stacked a number of blocks, until finally they fell, scattering over a wide area. The boy instinctively reached out with his hand and began to Summon the furthest blocks back to him. As he was doing this, his aunt walked out of the kitchen.
“Stop that, Harry!” Aunt Petunia said sharply.
He looked up in shock, almost as if he had been hit or pinched. She quickly walked over and knelt in front of him.
“Harry, no magic. You can’t do that. You know what that means.”
The boy flinched at each statement, his head bowed.
After he disappeared into the cupboard, Aunt Petunia quickly walked over to one of the windows in the front of the house. ‘Good,’ she thought. ‘No one is outside, so they couldn’t have heard or seen anything.’
Harry lay on his mattress, wondering what he had done wrong this time. He had no idea what she meant by ‘You can’t do that.’ What can’t he do?
He heard footsteps approaching the cupboard. Wham! Wham! Wham! Someone pounded on the door.
“Freak.”
Then, Harry heard the laughter of his cousin, Dudley, as the young boy toddled down the hall. Harry pulled his blanket closer to him, his thumb went into his mouth, and he started rubbing the satin strip. Finally his breathing calmed down, and he fell asleep. His aunt didn’t bother to wake him for lunch.
Later, the door opened, flooding the interior of the cupboard with light. The boy squinted his eyes to see what was happening.
“Dinner is ready.” His aunt pointed at the kitchen, and Harry ambled over to the towel on the floor with the plate of food sitting on top.
He watched warily as Aunt Petunia walked from the kitchen to the dining table, where Uncle Vernon and Dudley were already seated. After she sat down, Harry picked up the few cut up pieces of meat from his plate. In seconds, they were devoured, and he moved on to the rest of his dinner, three small pieces of carrot. When Harry finished the cup half-filled with water, he stood up, his stomach still rumbling with hunger, and looked towards the dining table. His relatives continued their conversation without acknowledging his presence, so he walked back to the hallway and sat down where he could watch them through the small opening in the door. Not wanting to be punished again, he sat as still as he could, not moving a muscle or turning his head, and blinking only when his eyes became dried out and itchy.
Even after they had finished dinner, Harry sat unmoving in the spot in the hall. His relatives went into the sitting room and watched television. Finally, the boy got up, went into the cupboard, closed the door, and lay down, feeling heavy, like all the energy had been sucked out of him. Sleep eventually overcame him, and another day ended.
Chapter 4: Pre-School
Author's Notes: Happy New Year, everyone! Best Wishes for a wonderful 2008!
Thanks again to cwarbeck for her excellent beta services. If you haven't read her most recent story, A Christmas Carol, you're missing a delighful parody and some delicious H/G goodness.
You readers continue to startle me, with another DSTA nomination and votes for Best Angst, even though I was only able to post one chapter in late December. Your support is truly appreciated!
Please note: The Dursleys continue to treat Harry in the same manner shown in the previous chapters.
Five-year old Harry Potter woke up early on that September morning. He had barely been able to sleep in anticipation of this day. This would be his — and his cousin’s — first day of school. They would be going to something his aunt called pre-school.
For the first time in memory, he had got new clothes. Not new really, but a new set of hand-me-downs from the ever expanding Dudley. His aunt had actually washed them, something she had never done with his clothes before, mumbling something about him ‘not reflecting negatively on them.’ Harry didn’t care. He had more clothes, even though each long-sleeved shirt and pair of trousers needed to be rolled up, since they were way too big for the boy’s slight frame.
He had been allowed to take a ten-minute shower (twice as long as usual) the night before and to wash his hair for the first time he could remember, so it was even messier than usual. As he came downstairs that morning, he overheard his relatives speaking, so he stopped motionless on the stairs.
“Vernon, we need to be careful about how we, uh, discipline the boy. We don’t want the school questioning us.”
There was a pause before his uncle responded. “You’re right. I hadn’t thought of that. I used to say I fell while playing or got in a fight. People are too damn nosy today. If he does anything that requires punishment, I’ll make sure it won’t show.”
Harry deflated when he heard the conversation. I’m so bad they have to decide how to punish me. I’ll just have to try harder to be good.
Harry thought back to his aunt and uncle saying he was too big a risk to take on excursions — whether to fun fairs, zoos, circuses, or even the play park down the street — where he would come into contact with other people. He knew his relatives were concerned about how people would look at him, remembering them mentioning ‘his strange looks, that horrible scar on his forehead, and his small size.’ He also knew they were really worried he would do something his uncle called ‘unnatural,’ though he had no idea what the man was talking about.
Just recently, Uncle Vernon had said he wasn’t convinced they had squeezed all of ‘it’ out of him yet. His aunt had replied, ‘We can’t take the chance of him saying or doing something that would cause people to talk. It will be better if we just leave him at home and not have people over.’ His uncle had grunted. ‘That’s another reason I wish he’d never been dumped on us.’
Harry shook his head to stop his thoughts and continued down the stairs and into the dining area. Because he had awoken hours early, he had already got dressed and even tried to comb his hair. His notebook, paper, pencils, and crayons had been placed in his rucksack the night before. After a quick breakfast, in which a shocked Harry received more food than usual, his aunt, cousin, and he set off for school. Just before they went out the front door, his uncle pulled him aside.
“Boy, I don’t want you to do or say anything that will embarrass us. You know what will happen if you do.”
Harry wasn’t sure what the man was referring to, but he said, “O . . . kay, Uncle Vernon.” The boy’s voice sounded like a rusty gate that hadn’t been opened in ages.
Once they departed, his aunt tried to hold Dudley’s hand, but the boy would have nothing to do with it. Instead, he kept bumping into Harry. Since the sidewalks were barely wide enough for the three of them, Harry was knocked into the street several times, causing his aunt to shriek at him to be more careful. After the second time, he dropped back and walked behind his relatives.
When they arrived at the school, Harry’s head swivelled around, taking in all the new sights. The school building was one-story, with a big entry lobby, several long hallways, and classrooms opening off the hallways. As they entered the building, the chatter from the many people walking though the halls swept over them like a wave at the beach. Harry instinctively moved closer to his aunt, but she moved away, looking sharply at him. The boy took several deep breaths.
I’ve never seen so many people. I didn’t think school would be this big and crowded. Will the kids in my class talk with me, or will they think I’m a freak like my relatives do?
His aunt didn’t stop to talk with anyone. Instead, she marched straight down the main hallway to the end. They entered the classroom and went directly to a friendly-looking woman who had dark, curly hair and who was standing by a large desk.
“Miss Rae, I’m Petunia Dursley. This is my son, Dudley.”
“Hi, Dudley, welcome to our school.” She smiled, and then looked at Harry.
Petunia thought to herself, I’m sorry, Harry, but Dudley and my marriage are more important to me than you are. Vernon won’t tolerate me treating you decently. I hope you and Lily can eventually forgive me.
“Oh, this is our ward, Harry Potter.” The teacher’s expression changed to one of curiosity, as her eyes flicked to his scar, but then her smile quickly returned.
“Hi, Harry. It’s nice to meet you.”
“T . . . thank you, Miss R . . . Rae.” Harry’s raspy voice caused the young teacher to look at him more closely.
“Why don’t you two boys find a desk and put your stuff in it? We’ll be starting in a few minutes.”
Dudley immediately headed for a desk in the back of the class, followed by his mum. Harry moved to one in the last row, furthest from the door and three from the front of the classroom. He placed his supplies in his desk and looked around as nervous-looking kids soon filled the remaining desks. Harry saw his cousin talking to several boys who were seated around him and wondered how they knew each other.
“Hi! I’m Samantha.”
Harry jumped at the sound and turned to see a bright smile, lively green eyes, and the very red hair of the girl sitting at the desk in front of him. His eyes widened in surprise at someone willingly talking to him.
“Hi, m . . . my name is H . . . Harry,” he croaked, and then dropped his eyes to the desktop.
Before they could say anything else, Miss Rae’s voice cut through all the chatter. “Good morning, everyone. I’m Miss Rae, and I’m your teacher this year.”
Most of the students listened attentively to the teacher. Suddenly, she sharply clapped her hands, and the class followed her eyes back to three boys, who were snickering in the back of the class, oblivious to their new teacher.
“Dudley, Piers, Neil. Eyes forward when I’m talking. If I have to remind you again, I’ll consider moving one or more of you. Understood?”
Piers rolled his eyes and nodded his head.
Neil looked angry, but he nodded, too.
Dudley looked confused. Harry thought this may have been the first time in the boy’s life that he had been reprimanded.
“Mr Dursley, did you understand me?”
“Uh . . . yes.” His expression turned petulant.
“Good! Let’s get to know each other a little bit. Please stand up, give your name — first and last, please — your birthday, and something interesting about your parents. We’ll start with the far row. Nigel, you’re first.”
Nigel stumbled through his information and sat down, red-faced. Samantha got up next, a big smile on her face, and gave all of the requested details without any prompting by Miss Rae. Then, it was Harry’s turn. He stood up, staring at Miss Rae, and feeling a prickly heat ignite his skin.
“My name is Harry P . . . Potter. I don’t know my b . . . birthday . . .”
Miss Rae looked surprised and asked her student. “Harry, you don’t remember your birthday?”
He finally choked out a response, as the heat rose up his cheeks. “N . . . never been t . . . told.”
Miss Rae’s eyebrows shot up her forehead, but she quickly pulled them back down. “Your parents don’t celebrate your birthday?”
Harry could now feel the heat creeping down his neck. “I d . . . don’t have p . . . parents. I l . . . live with my relatives.” His breathing had become laboured.
“The Dursleys?” she asked.
He nodded, as the murmurs and whispers he had first heard after his birthday comment increased several levels.
Harry noticed a sad look had crossed his teacher’s face, but it was quickly replaced by a more neutral expression. “Well, that’s enough for today. I’m going to pass out a sheet of paper you can colour on.”
Miss Rae handed out the papers to the student at the front of each row. Samantha turned around and handed the remaining stack to Harry.
“You don’t have parents?”
Harry stared back at her. He couldn’t sense any teasing or meanness in her question. He shrugged.
“I d . . . don’t know,” he whispered, his throat hurting from all the talking he’d already been forced to do. “I’ve l . . . lived with my relatives m . . . most of my life.” He could feel the heat rising again on his face.
“I’m sorry,” Samantha said, and she turned back to her desk, a sad look on her face.
The students coloured until it was time for recess. As they got up to go to the playground, Miss Rae called out, “Harry, please see me for a minute before you leave.”
All eyes turned to him, and the whispering started up again. He walked over to the teacher’s desk. She waited until the other students had left before speaking.
“I’m sorry, Harry. I never should have done that. Please forgive me for putting you in an embarrassing spot. Okay?”
He nodded his head, looking at the floor in front of him. “S’okay, M . . . Miss Rae.”
“Thank you, Harry.” She smiled at the small, enigmatic boy. “Do you want to know your birth date?”
He nodded, glancing at his teacher before lowering his eyes again.
“You were born on July 31, 1980, so you turned five a little over a month ago. I take it you don’t celebrate your birthday with your relatives.”
He shook his head. “N . . .never.”
“Well, to make up for my mistake, do you see anything here you’d like to take home for the week?”
Harry glanced at his teacher, an idea taking shape, but he wasn’t sure whether he should say it or not. Taking a deep breath, he smiled shyly at her. “C . . . can I t . . . take you home? You’re n . . . nice.”
Miss Rae began laughing, almost to the point of having tears run down her cheeks. She finally composed herself. “You’re a very funny young man, Mr Potter.” She smiled brightly at her student, thinking there was a lot more to this boy than met the eye.
Harry had seen the shelves of books behind his teacher’s desk as soon as they had walked into the classroom. He looked at them longingly, while his teacher smiled.
“Harry, would you like to take a book home?”
His entire face lit up, and his green eyes shone brightly. “C . . . can I?” he asked timidly.
“Sure you can. In fact, how about three of them? Have you been learning to read?’
He nodded his head and briefly looked at his teacher. “M . . . my aunt . . . reads to D . . . Dudley . . . I listen.” The boy took several deep breaths.
“Well, good for you, Harry. I’ll see what I can do to help you along with your reading. Why don’t you pick three books and put them in your desk?”
He smiled. “T . . . thank you, M . . . Miss Rae.” The corners of his mouth turned up slightly.
She reached out to pat his shoulder and was shocked when the boy instinctively jumped out of the way.
“I’m sorry. Did I startle you?” She noticed the boy’s faint smile had turned to wariness.
He slowly nodded his head.
“Well, go ahead and pick out your books, Harry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
By the time he found three books that looked interesting, the other students were filtering into the classroom, most of them looking curiously at the boy named Harry Potter. He quietly put the books in his bag and tried to ignore the stares and whispering.
At lunch, several of Harry’s more aggressive classmates seemed to think it was their responsibility to continue the exercise Miss Rae had cancelled.
Piers asked loudly, “Potter, don’t you have any parents?” He, Dudley, and Neil snickered.
Before he could answer, Samantha spoke up, “That’s rude.” She turned to Harry, who was seated next to her. “Don’t listen to them.”
“Oi, Potter has a girlfriend.”
“How did you get that scar, Potter?”
Immediately, twenty pairs of eyes turned to Harry’s forehead. He felt frozen in place, as if his brain no longer commanded his body. Everything, including his head, felt numb. He knew Samantha was saying something to him, but nothing registered.
“What are you boys doing?” Their teacher’s voice had a hard edge to it.
Dudley, Piers, and Neil looked up innocently.
Miss Rae’s eyes were blazing. “We do not taunt our classmates or ask personal questions. Is that understood?” The three boys nodded. “See me after class.”
As soon as the teacher turned away from them, the three boys stared daggers at Harry.
Great! Now I’m in trouble. Why couldn’t Miss Rae just ignore what they said? I cause problems wherever I go.
Samantha whispered to Harry, “You okay?”
He just shrugged his shoulders and went back to eating his sandwich, ham on white bread, with no mustard, mayonnaise, cheese, lettuce, or anything else on it.
The bell rang, and the students returned to the classroom. The rest of the school day went by without any more mishaps. With their dismissal, Harry swung his book bag onto his shoulder and walked out of class, noticing that Dudley and his two friends were standing at the teacher’s desk.
Samantha walked next to him. “Where do you live?”
Harry started at the girl’s presence and question. “P . . . Privet Drive. Y . . . you?”
“Magnolia Crescent. We can walk that far together.”
He looked to see if she was serious or just teasing him. “O . . . kay.”
When they reached the edge of the school property, a red-haired boy came up to Samantha. “You can follow me, but I don’t want you to walk too close. Got it, Sammi?”
Samantha stuck her tongue out. “Got it, Kevin.” She turned to Harry. “My brother. He’s in fourth grade. My parents said he has to walk me home.”
Harry looked at the large group of mums that were standing on the sidewalk. “N . . . no aunt. S’okay to go . . . with you,” he paused for a split second and his eyes brightened, “S . . . Sammi.”
Samantha smiled back at him. “It’s my nickname. You can call me that, if you want.”
They lagged a couple of houses behind Kevin, talking together, or more accurately, Harry listening to Samantha chattering non-stop. After several blocks, they reached the intersection of Magnolia Crescent and Privet Drive.
“I live halfway down this block,” Samantha said.
“T . . . two m . . . more,” Harry replied, pointing in the direction of number four.
“See you tomorrow, then,” she said, as her brother yelled from across the street to hurry up.
“B . . . bye.” His voice cracked again.
Turning down Privet Drive, Harry saw Dudley and the other two boys a house behind him, followed by Neil and Piers’ mums, who were gossiping away and totally oblivious to the boys they were supposedly watching.
Harry walked down the street, thinking his first day hadn’t been too bad. I didn’t like the questions and people talking about me. But talking to Samantha and getting the books was good.
The next thing he knew someone had bumped him hard with their shoulder, and he stumbled towards the kerb. A second shove sent him into the street. Before he could look up, a car horn blared from right in front of him. Harry hopped back onto the kerb, as the car swerved towards the other side of the street.
“Didja see that?” Piers laughed.
“Almost got him,” Neil crowed.
“Teach you to get us in trouble, freak.”
The three started running down the street, losing Piers and his mother first when they turned left onto Wisteria Lane. Then, Dudley entered number four, while Neil and his mum continued down the lane. As soon as Harry walked in the front door, he was yelled at.
“What are you doing getting Dudley in trouble?” His aunt demanded.
The boy flinched, startled by the tone of his aunt’s voice. “N . . . nothing,” he choked out.
“Don’t lie to me. You will not make Dudley look bad. Do you understand me?”
The boy slumped, unable to look at his aunt. He briefly nodded his head.
“Go to your room. No dinner for you tonight. I don’t want to see you again today. Now get going.”
The boy hung his head, blinking rapidly. “Y . . . yes, Aunt P . . . Petunia.”
As he walked to the cupboard, he noticed Dudley silently laughing at him, and his anger flared.
I didn’t do anything. It was Dudley.
They don’t care. I’m always the problem.
I can’t do anything right.
Harry closed the cupboard door behind him, ignored Dudley’s banging on it, but he did jump when he heard his aunt slide the lock closed. His thoughts turned to how he was treated and how his aunt and uncle treated Dudley.
They never take me anywhere.
Dudley got tons of presents for his birthday. They’ve never said anything about my birthday or given me a present.
Dudley has clothes he’s never worn. I get his old stuff, and they’re huge.
Dudley gets all he wants to eat. I get next to nothing.
What’s wrong with me? Why do they treat me like this? I wish they liked me.
The boy sneezed and wiped his runny nose on the rolled up sleeve of his shirt. Next, he mentally listed the chores Aunt Petunia had assigned over the past few months.
Dusting everything in the sitting room.
Scrubbing the tile floor in the entry with a sponge.
Emptying the trash.
Then he thought of the chores his aunt had given to Dudley.
Nothing.
They really don’t like me.
The air seemed to leave his body, but Harry mustered enough energy to change from his good school clothes into his grubbier things. He hung up the newer clothing, and pulled the three new books out of his rucksack.
Over the next few weeks, Harry spent most of his time with Samantha during recess, lunch, and then walking home. Something felt familiar with her, and she was fun to be with.
Another routine quickly developed. Miss Rae would have her four best reading students, which included Samantha and Harry, stay with her during one recess each week. They would use that time reading materials more advanced than the other students could handle. Miss Rae felt that she didn’t want to hold back these brighter kids, but she didn’t have the time to run several reading classes each day, separated by comprehension levels.
Miss Rae collected all the work her students did during these first weeks and placed them in a separate folder for each child. These folders would be placed on the student’s desk for the school’s Open House, which would be that evening.
At the dinner table, Aunt Petunia gushed about Dudley. “I can’t wait to see how well you’re doing, Duddikins. I bet you’re the best student in class. Be sure to brush your teeth after dinner. I want you to look your best.” She turned to Harry and pursed her lips. “You’re staying home.”
When the three Dursleys were ready to leave for the school, Uncle Vernon glared at Harry. “If you make any trouble while we’re gone, I’ll knock you into the middle of next week. Do you understand me, boy?”
“Yes, Uncle V . .V . Vernon.”
His relatives left, and Harry pulled out the latest in a series of books Miss Rae had lent him. Since no one was home, he went into the sitting room, sat on the usually forbidden couch, and began reading.
Miss Rae had learned that Harry loved reading about King Arthur, Merlin, and Camelot, so she scoured the school’s library for anything that would be appropriate for a slightly precocious five-year old. When that search turned up only one book, she took it on herself to go to the public library and find more books for her voracious student. As she waited for the parents to arrive for the Open House, she thought that students like Harry, Samantha, and a few others more than made up for the Dudleys, Piers, and Neils of the world.
As soon as she saw the thick body of Vernon Dursley, Miss Rae knew he was Dudley’s father. His horsy-looking mother had almost the opposite appearance, and the teacher had to stifle a laugh as she looked at the mismatched pair and their chunky son.
Dudley led his parents over to his desk in the back of the classroom. As Miss Rae spoke with other parents, she continued to keep an eye on the Dursleys. Scowls came over the face of both Dursley parents, as they leafed through the schoolwork in their son’s folder. She knew, of course, what was in there, and the work was substandard at best. The boy showed no interest in learning and already appeared to be a bully. By the time they had reviewed all of their son’s work, his parents wore matching angry expressions and were soon marching towards her desk, folder in hand.
The other parents had been patiently waiting in line, while she talked to the couple seated at her desk. The Dursleys ignored such protocol.
“We need to talk with you now,” Mr Dursley demanded.
Not wishing to make a scene, the parents who were talking with Miss Rae said they would meet with her later. As the Dursleys sat down, the remaining parents moved away from the desk, looking critically at the Dursleys.
“What are all these lousy papers in Dudley’s folder? Where are his good ones?” Mr Dursley growled.
Miss Rae smiled at the angry couple. “Those papers represent all of Dudley’s work, I’m afraid.” While Vernon blustered and Petunia turned pale, the teacher continued, “Your son does not seem to be very interested in learning at this time. Hopefully, he will improve with more time and much greater effort on his part. I’m sure you’re aware that not every child matures at the same rate, nor are they blessed with equal intelligence and creativity.”
Vernon Dursley turned puce at hearing words that took him back to a similar age. He looked at his wife and hissed, “It’s probably the calibre of teaching here.”
Miss Rae smiled again. “Dudley and a couple of other students — boys he socializes with the most, interestingly — are the only ones not keeping up. Excuse me a second, I’ll show you what a top student is capable of at this age.” She returned quickly with another folder. “I’m sure you’ll recognize who it belongs to, as I’m told he is your ward. I wasn’t aware that ‘ward’ was a synonym for nephew.”
Petunia stared at her, trying to mask her feelings of embarrassment by looking angry. The teacher handed the folder to the startled guardians, her eyebrow arched. They poured through the contents and became very quiet. When they finished, Miss Rae could feel the anger crackling from the couple.
“He probably cheated or stole someone else’s work, probably Dudley’s,” Vernon Dursley insisted.
“Not really. I’ve worked quite extensively with Harry and several others of my top students. These papers are all his. Quite good, aren’t they? I’m sure you are very proud of your nephew.”
While they would never admit it, Vernon and Petunia Dursley were shocked at how superior Harry’s work was to their son’s. It didn’t matter whether the paper was for reading, penmanship, simple math, or drawing, everything in Harry’s folder startled his relatives with the creativity and depth. Where Dudley had drawn stick figures in front of a boxy house, much like their own, Harry’s picture showed three people — two with red hair, one with black — flying around an ornate castle, with a fire-breathing dragon off to the side and extensive landscaping.
“They are good,” Petunia whispered, while her husband scowled at her.
He abruptly stood up. “It’s time for us to be leaving.”
Miss Rae stood up. “It was a pleasure to show how your two young men are doing. By the way, where is Harry tonight? Certainly you didn’t leave him alone at home?”
Petunia almost jumped at the question. “Of course not, he’s, ah, at a neighbour’s. He . . . wasn’t feeling well,” she hurriedly explained.
They turned, collected Dudley, and stalked out of the classroom.
On the way back to number four, Vernon thought of the numerous times he had been embarrassed by comparisons to his perfect brother. Petunia saw the beginnings of problems for Dudley, being compared to Harry, just as she had suffered because of Lily. She made herself a promise.
I can’t let this happen to Dudley. I’ll have to stop Harry every way possible.
Vernon turned to his wife. “We can’t let this happen again. I won’t tolerate that freak making our boy look bad.”
Petunia nodded her head in agreement.
While the Dursleys were at the Open House, Harry had finished the book on King Arthur, so he returned it to his corner hiding place, knowing he had time to read it again before Miss Rae had to return the book to the library. He went upstairs, brushed his teeth, washed his face and hands, and then changed into his pyjamas. Minutes later, he was dreaming about flying.
He couldn’t see himself, but he was flying on a broom, and he felt . . . small. Four people were in a backyard where he was, and from their size, they looked like adults. As usual, their faces were very hazy. Harry flew around these adults, weaving in and out, moving higher, then lower, speeding up and slowing down. He could hear himself laughing, but it wasn’t the high pitched frightening sound he heard in the dreams with the green lights. Instead, this was fun! Somehow, he knew that flying was only part of his feeling so good. He knew without a doubt the people he was with were the other part.
As he was flying, without warning, he became blinded by light and overwhelmed by loud noises . . .
The small boy woke up. He blinked repeatedly to get the sleep from his eyes and stared in shock at his uncle looming over him. His eyes widened immediately, and he pushed himself back towards the far wall of the cupboard.
“Vernon!” Petunia hissed. “Don’t! His teacher will be suspicious if he comes in Monday with anything.” She moved toward the boy, not to protect him, but to keep her family from getting in trouble. “We can have him do chores all weekend.”
Vernon was breathing deeply, his eyes like green flames. After several heart-stopping moments, he moved away from the boy, whose frightened eyes moved repeatedly between his aunt and uncle.
“You’re right,” Vernon grunted. “The last thing we need is to get into trouble over this piece of shite.”
As Vernon walked towards the sitting room, Aunt Petunia knelt down by Harry, who was still lying on the mattress, his eyes wide with shock.
“It was just a silly misunderstanding, Harry. Nothing to think about. Okay? Just go back to sleep. Nothing happened.” She tried to smile reassuringly at her nephew but couldn’t do it. “Good night, Harry.” She stepped out of the cupboard, closed the door, and locked it.
Harry continued to lie there, wide-eyed, with adrenaline pulsing through his body. Despite his uncle not touching him, he could feel his heart pumping wildly and a numb feeling that had spread all over him.
Between deep, almost desperate breaths, Harry repeated to himself, ‘Nothing happened. I’m not in trouble.’ He finally fell back asleep.
As usual, vague images flashed through darkened spaces. Nothing was recognizable, whether it was people, places, or things. This time, he could see red among the deep grey colours. The colour seemed to be next to the two people in the dream, and it moved when they did. He couldn’t tell if they were kids or adults, since they were so indistinct he couldn’t see their bodies or faces clearly. One thing he did know for certain. They weren’t chasing him. Instead, he had an unusual feeling, almost like they were being nice to him. But as the dream always did, the two people turned into mist, and he woke up.
He lay still on the mattress, trying to remember the dream, especially the two people and the good feeling he had when he was with them. As hard as he tried, he never could see their faces or identify them in any other way. The red colour that was always in that dream confused him. Why did it float around the dream, as they moved through it? He finally gave up trying to figure out what it meant.
Harry laughed to himself. If I can’t remember the dream, I can make it up. Those two people were friends of mine — my best friends. One’s a boy and the other a girl, and they’re my age. We were playing together and had swords. Yeah. But we weren’t fighting each other. We were defending the castle from the bad guys.
Harry let his imagination go and pictured his friends and him flying around the castle, duelling villains who were attacking it, and ultimately defeating them. The King and Queen lavished gifts of gold, rubies, and coins of the realm on them, and then they had a feast where they ate until they were so full Harry felt like his stomach was going to burst. Once again, sleep overtook him.
Chapter 5: Shattered
Author's Notes: Thanks to everyone who nominated and voted for Saving Harry in last month's DSTAs. Your enthusiasm is much appreciated!
Thanks, as always, go to the marvelous cwarbeck for her above and beyond beta work. My gratitude is extended to Peter/MyGinevra for listening to me, even if it is electronically. His current fic, The Hog's Head, is highly recommended, if you're not already following it.
Please note: If you've gotten this far in the story, you know how Harry is treated by the Dursleys. For those of you looking for a change of pace, I've included two more sources of angst.
Harry Potter’s world shattered. Seventeen words from Miss Rae, several days before the Christmas Holidays, were all it took.
“I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but I won’t be returning after the Holidays . . .”
Harry barely heard any of the words that had followed, “I won’t be returning . . .” His mind started spinning, threatening to run away from the new reality Miss Rae’s announcement had created. Harry sat, almost slumped in his chair, his mind racing, his body numb, but with an ache inside that he thought would consume him.
Miss Rae has been one of the few good things in my life. The books, the reading lessons . . . she and Sammi are the only ones who treat me good, who’ve been nice to me. And Sammi had to go home early today.
“I have a long-term family emergency that requires that I move back home. Home is in Cornwall, so there is no way I can continue teaching you. I hope you know that I hate to have to leave, but there are no other alternatives for my family. Do you have any questions?”
Her students stared at their teacher, their minds still too numb to ask her anything.
“Okay. Well, we have the rest of the week if you do have any. Class dismissed.”
Harry continued to sit at his desk, after the dismissal bell rang, unable to move or even think about what he would do next.
“Harry, are you okay?” Miss Rae looked at him with watery, distraught eyes.
He looked up, and his world crumbled.
The tears that had been held back when the Dursleys neglected him, the pain from the mistreatment he could do nothing about, the feelings of being totally on his own, of not having anyone who cared for him, pounded against the emotional barriers he had created and swept them away.
The boy started crying and thought he would never stop. He felt a hand on his shoulder and sobbed even harder. The numb feeling that had settled over his body held a volcano at its centre, and he felt every shred of his being erupting in pain.
Finally, gasping for air and with tear-streaked cheeks, he stopped crying, certain there was nothing left inside of him.
Even though Miss Rae was kneeling next to him, she looked blurry and indistinct, as if she were already just a memory of the one adult that had cared for him. Harry quickly blinked his eyes until she came into focus. Her face almost caused him to break down again. She looked as heartbroken as he felt.
He couldn’t hold back his emotions any longer and launched himself at his teacher, holding her as tightly as he could, feeling that if he let go, he would drift away and never be found again. She wrapped her arms around her student, holding him closely and whispering calming words.
Many long minutes passed until they were ready to release each other.
Miss Rae looked directly into Harry’s watery eyes. “You will be okay.”
He nodded, desperately wanting to believe her.
She smiled through her tears. “I was going to tell you this on our last day, on Friday, but now seems the right time.”
She reached out, still kneeling so they were at the same height, and placed a hand gently on each of his shoulders. “Mr Potter, you are a very special young man. No matter what happens, I want you to remember that. Don’t let anything stop you. Will you do that for me, Harry?”
Harry searched his teacher’s face, peering into her eyes. Within seconds, he had no doubts that she truly believed what she had just said.
She thinks I’m special, not a freak, not a waste of space.
He nodded and took a deep breath. “I will,” he whispered.
“That’s my boy.” She smiled at him. “We can talk more, after school tomorrow, if you want.”
He smiled, a lopsided but bright-eyed smile that almost broke her heart. “Thanks, Miss Rae.”
She ruffled his always messy hair, and he slung the rucksack over his shoulders. When he got to the doorway, he turned around.
“That was the first hug I can ever remember.”
Miss Rae’s breath caught in her chest, as if it had suddenly turned into an immovable chunk of ice. As he waved goodbye, she thought, You are so much better than they are, Harry. Don’t ever let them convince you otherwise.
Two days later, Harry’s world spun off its axis once more. Samantha wasn’t in class. With Miss Rae’s announcement, she had become Harry’s sole anchor, his only friend in class, the only one who ignored Dudley’s heavy-handed bullying. The school day finally came to an end, and Harry went up to Miss Rae as soon as the final bell rang.
“I’m going over to Samantha’s house to see if she’s okay. Do you mind if I don’t stay and talk with you today?”
“Not at all, Harry. That’s a very nice thing for you to do. I’m sure Samantha will appreciate your concern. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Bye, Miss Rae.”
Harry had walked about halfway across the school playground on his way to Samantha’s house when he saw a red blur racing towards him. As the figure got closer, Harry could see it was Samantha, and she had tears running down her cheeks. She literally crashed into him, throwing her arms around his back, and crying into his shoulder, the moisture soaking through his shirt. After a moment’s hesitation, Harry put his arms around his distraught friend.
As he held Samantha, Harry could feel sobs wracking her body and wondered if she’d held her tears all day. Her crying slowed and finally became hiccups as she tried to regain her breath. With a last shuddering gasp, she stepped back and stared into her friend’s face.
“We’re moving, Harry,” she managed to whisper, before she was lost again. Sammi leaned against him, as if she needed something solid to keep her standing.
Harry squeezed his eyes as tight as he could, trying to erase what Sammi had just told him. This can’t be happening. Please, not her, too.
The boy desperately tried to hold back the tears that welled in his eyes. I can’t cry where everyone can see me. But he could feel one, then another tear, slide down his cheek.
Sammi’s breathing slowed down. “I’m going to miss you so much,” she said, and her tears resumed.
Her comment broke down Harry’s last barriers, and his tears flowed as heavily as his friend’s. Both children clung to each other, kindred spirits, who doubted they would find another in their new and suddenly changed worlds.
When the tears finally ran out, the two friends shyly looked at each other, embarrassed about being so open with their emotions.
Harry said quietly, “Number two.”
Sammi looked at him, her head tilted to one side and a confused expression on her face. “What do you mean, number two?”
“This was the second hug I can remember.”
“Really?” Her friend’s admission was totally outside her experience, since she usually was hugged every day that many times before breakfast.
“Really.” He nodded his head.
“Who was the first?” Sammi asked.
“Miss Rae, on Monday, after school.” Sammi nodded her head. “Let’s go home,” Harry suggested.
Both kids took deep breaths and started walking. Within a few minutes, Sammi was chattering away, and both kids tried to ignore the other’s red-rimmed eyes. Harry learned her family would be leaving during Christmas break. Sammi’s dad had received a promotion — Harry wasn’t sure what that was, but Sammi said it was usually a good thing — but it required them to move to a city called Manchester.
“It’s hours and hours away, Harry, so we can’t see each other very often. I told my da not to take the promotion. He just laughed and said he couldn’t do that. Friday will be my last day.”
When they reached the intersection of Magnolia Crescent and Privet Drive, both kids stopped, not wanting to go their separate ways.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at school,” Sammi said.
“Yeah. But it won’t be the same.”
“No, it won’t. I just couldn’t go today. I yelled at my da, my mum, my brother, even our dog.” Harry snorted at the dog being yelled at. “I cried a lot, too. It makes me sad to move.”
“Yeah, me, too. First, Miss Rae, now you.”
“I’m sorry, Harry.”
“It’s okay. Nothing you can do.” The boy laughed suddenly. “Tell your parents you’ll live with the Dursleys.”
“We’ll both live in your cupboard.”
“Might be a little crowded.” The smile still lit Harry’s face.
“Nah, we’re both pretty small.” Sammi smiled back.
“Time to go?” he asked.
“Yeah, see you tomorrow, Harry.”
“Not if I see you first.”
Both kids laughed as they went their separate ways.
Friday felt like a funeral to Harry.
Sammi arrived with a tear-streaked face and rough eyes from rubbing away the constant flow of tears she’d had since her da had announced the ‘good’ news. As soon as she sat down at her desk, she turned around.
“My mum said to make this a good day, since it’s my last with you and Miss Rae. Will you help me, Harry?”
Harry immediately felt a sharp burning sensation in his eyes. I can’t cry in class. Dudley and his mates would take the mickey out of me. I can’t let them know how I feel about Sammi and Miss Rae leaving.
He took several deep breaths and tried to smile. “Yeah, I’ll help.”
The end of the day finally arrived. The two friends waited silently until all the other students had said their last goodbyes and left the classroom. Harry could feel his breathing quicken, with less air going into his lungs, almost like he had to push to get the air inside him.
Miss Rae looked over at her two favourite students. She could finally admit that undeniable fact to herself now that she no longer was officially their teacher. She saw two wonderful children, who couldn’t have been more the same or more different.
She knew that Samantha came from a loving home, with two supportive parents, who loved her and her brother. They were treated well, fed and housed properly, dressed nicely, and encouraged to be their very best. With all that Samantha received from her parents, it wasn’t surprising she excelled at almost everything she did, and more importantly, was a sweet child.
Harry, on the other hand, was unique. How he had become this quiet, funny, well behaved, highly intelligent young man was beyond her comprehension. By all accounts, he should have been a juvenile delinquent-in-training like his porcine cousin. If the rumours were true, he lived in a hallway cupboard. She knew from seeing his clothing that they were discards from Dudley. Their size disparity and condition made it even more obvious that nothing he wore had been purchased for him. From the first day of school, she had been concerned that Harry had been mistreated by the Dursleys, but as carefully as she watched, there was not one time where she could file a report on them. Despite this toxic environment, the young man had turned out as if he had the best parents in the world. Then, the thought occurred to her; maybe he had before he had been forced to live with the Dursleys.
As Miss Rae walked toward Samantha and Harry, she steeled herself against the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. She knew she had no choice but to leave the school and this area. Her parents’ medical conditions required her to be there to care for them. They couldn’t afford full-time medical help, and her older brother and sister had families. She was the logical choice, but that didn’t stop her from feeling she was abandoning not only her class and the school, but most especially the small boy who was looking at her with a sad smile.
Miss Rae kneeled in front of the two children and held out her arms. Instantly, they moved towards her, wrapping their arms around her and each other, as she enclosed them in her embrace. She desperately wished she was just giving them a happy hug and wishes for the Holidays, and that she would be seeing them again in a few weeks’ time. But Miss Rae also knew she couldn’t say any of those things. She had to be positive for both children’s sakes.
She pulled back slightly, so she could see her young friends. Both had tears silently running down their cheeks. “Hey, you two, this is a wonderful time of the year. No sad faces.”
Both kids blinked rapidly to stem their tears and tried to put on smiles they obviously didn’t feel. Both were breathing raggedly and continued to hold onto their teacher like they would be lost if they let go.
“That’s a little better.” Miss Rae took a deep breath. “I hoped to see both of you during the break, but my parents’ conditions have become worse, and I need to leave tomorrow.”
“So, this is it,” Harry said quietly.
“I’m afraid so. Now, don’t be so gloomy. Samantha, you have a great adventure in front of you, with a new city, new friends, new school and teacher, all sorts of interesting things to tell Harry.”
Sammi tried to smile but didn’t quite make it. “Why do I feel so sad?”
“What have you been thinking about the most?”
The small girl answered immediately. “How I don’t want to go. How much I’m going to miss you and Harry.”
Both Harry and Miss Rae swallowed hard, almost as if they were forcing their emotions down.
“Samantha, it’s normal to think about what you’re leaving. I bet your parents have talked with you about that.” The girl nodded her head. “The answer is to think of the good things also, so you’re not just thinking about what you’ll miss. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Miss Rae. I’ll try.”
“I know you will. Now, I have something for each of you.”
Their teacher walked over to her desk, opened a drawer and pulled out two brightly wrapped presents.
The green one went to Harry and the red package to Sammi.
“Open them up!”
The kids didn’t need any more encouragement and tore into the wrapping. Within seconds, both were smiling widely.
“Thank you, Miss Rae,” Harry said. “This is great.”
His present was a compendium of all things Arthurian. Harry immediately started flipping through the pages and was startled when a picture fell out. He picked it up and saw Sammi smiling back at him.
“Where did you get this?” he asked.
“Remember first day? I took pictures of every student.”
Sammi immediately started looking through the personalized stationery and pencil gift set Miss Rae had given her. Her eyes lit up when she found her best friend’s picture.
“Thank you so much, Miss Rae!” The little girl leaned into her teacher for another hug.
Both students already had their teacher’s new address and phone number, so Sammi turned to Harry. “I’ll ask my mum for my numbers and get them to you. Okay?”
He slowly nodded his head. “Okay.”
Miss Rae smiled at the exchange between these sparkling five-year olds. “Harry, I need you to do me a favour.” He tilted his head towards his teacher. “I want you to write to Sammi and me every week. We want to know how you’re doing. Will you do that?”
“Sure.” He nodded.
“And Sammi, you write to us, too, and let me know if Harry misses a week.”
Sammi’s smile lit her face. “I will — on my new stationery.”
“Good. We’re agreed, then.” Miss Rae looked into Harry’s eyes. “I also want you to remember something.” Her breath caught sharply in her chest, and she briefly closed her eyes. “We — Sammi and I — care a lot about you. You’re not alone. Write or call if there’s any need to, beyond the weekly letters. You know what I’m talking about, right?”
Harry nodded his head. “I will.”
Miss Rae forced a smile onto her face. “I probably shouldn’t keep you any longer. Please remember, Sammi, Harry, that even though it hurts now, we all have wonderful memories of each other. Think about the good parts, okay? Really have fun in Manchester, Sammi. Let us know all about it. And Harry, keep in touch with us, for any reason. Alright? Come here, you two.”
With one more hug and repeated thank yous for the gifts, the two kids reluctantly left Miss Rae. The teacher controlled her emotions until they disappeared down the hallway. With a huge sigh, her dam broke and the tears flooded through. ‘You know life’s not fair,’ she thought. ‘Both will be fine.’ She admitted to herself that she had no real worries about Sammi. It would be tough on her initially, but with her parents’ support, she would be fine. ‘God, I hope Harry will be okay. Those people he lives with scare me to death. I only hope he will contact me if things turn worse.’
Miss Rae looked through her desk drawers and book shelves one last time, turned off the lights, and walked down the hall towards the teachers’ parking lot, trying not to think that life was less fair to some people than others.
Sammi held off her tears until they left the school building. As hard as she tried, they began to leak one by one from the corners of her eyes. Harry could see the glistening tracks her tears traced on her freckled cheeks.
He moved closer to her and quietly said, “Think about the good things, Sammi.”
“I’m trying so hard, but it’s not working.” She leaned against him. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It is hard.” He could feel Sammi trying to calm down, but her breathing remained ragged and uneven.
Finally, she seemed stronger. “I’ll be okay now. I really don’t like being a hosepipe.”
Harry laughed. “A hosepipe? I’ve never heard anyone called a hosepipe.”
“My da teases me sometimes when I cry.”
“Oh, I thought he meant you were green and skinny.”
“Oh, Harry, that’s really bad.” She grinned at him, and they started walking toward their houses, their conversation flowing like usual.
Too quickly, they reached the intersection of Magnolia Crescent and Privet Drive, where a surprise awaited them. Sammi’s parents were standing on the corner, smiling at them.
After introductions, the parents explained what they had in mind. “So, if it’s okay with your aunt and uncle, you can visit with us over the spring half-term. How does that sound?” Sammi’s father asked.
“That would be great, Da!” Sammi reacted before Harry could even open his mouth.
Both males laughed, and Harry agreed. “That would be great, if my relatives would let me.”
Harry wasn’t sure how his relatives would react. Would they care? Would they be upset?
“Let’s go ask them,” Mrs Stephens suggested.
When they arrived in front of number four, Sammi’s green eyes locked onto Harry’s. “Thanks for being my best friend, Harry.”
He smiled shyly. “Thanks for being my first friend, Sammi.”
She squeaked and hugged him again. With a deep breath, she said, “I guess we should ask your relatives.”
“Yeah.”
And they headed up the walkway towards the front door.
The door was locked, so he rang the doorbell. After a few moments, his aunt opened the front door. Her initial expression of irritation quickly turned neutral when she saw the adults standing behind her nephew.
“Aunt Petunia, these are Mr and Mrs Stephens. They’re Sammi’s parents.”
They both stepped forward with cordial greetings, while Aunt Petunia remained coldly disinterested.
Mr Stephens said, “You may know that Harry and our Sammi are best friends at school. We’re moving to Manchester tomorrow and were hopeful they could stay in touch through letters, phone calls, that kind of stuff. Also, we would like to invite Harry to stay with us over the spring half-term. We’d cover any expenses, of course. We thought it would make their transition a little easier.”
Petunia knew exactly what they wanted to hear. “How nice of you. That’s a wonderful idea. We’ll make sure he writes, and I see no problem with him staying that week with you. We can coordinate the details as we get closer to the break. How’s that?”
Harry stared at this person who looked like his aunt but didn’t act or talk like her at all. He couldn’t believe his good luck. Now he had something to look forward to.
“Thank you, Aunt Petunia.”
“That’s settled, then,” Mr Stephens said.
Mrs Stephens smiled. “It was very nice to meet you, Mrs Dursley. Kids, last goodbyes?” She took her husband’s hand and led him to the sidewalk to wait for Sammi.
Aunt Petunia got the message, said, “Goodbye,” and walked back down the hall.
Sammi whispered, “Now we have something great to look forward to.”
“I can’t believe she said yes. I’ll write as soon as I get your first letter.” Harry took a deep breath. “Miss Rae’s right. It’s better knowing you.”
“Definitely! Goodbye, Harry Potter.” She leaned in for a last hug.
“Bye, Sammi.” As she walked towards her parents, he added, “Thanks for everything.”
He watched them walk down the street, until they were out of sight. Think of the good things. He took a deep breath and walked into the house.
Petunia had always kept a watchful eye out for the mail. With the knowledge that her nephew would soon be receiving letters from that little red-haired girl and his former school teacher, she now went into full alert.
Less than a week later, two letters arrived, addressed to Harry Potter. One was postmarked from Manchester; the second came from Cornwall. Petunia smiled to herself. Try to show up my Dudley. After a few more unanswered letters, they’ll think he’s not interested in them. This will teach him to try to make friends. The two letters were ripped into shreds then dumped, not in the kitchen trash, but in the large bin outside.
Why they haven’t written? Harry Potter wondered. I bet they’ve just been so busy they haven’t had time. He sat down at the dining table and wrote ‘How’s it going?’ letters to his best friend and former teacher, and also wished them a Happy Christmas, which would be in two more days.
“Aunt Petunia, would you mail these for me?” he asked.
“I’ll be happy to, Harry. I need to go out for some last minute shopping. I’ll take care of them for you.” Then, she smiled at the boy. “Have you received anything from your friends yet?”
“Not yet. I bet they’ve been really busy.”
“Yes,” she replied. “I’m sure that’s it. Nothing to be concerned about.”
She put the two envelopes in her purse. Later that day, when she was out shopping, Aunt Petunia took the two letters from her purse and dropped them in the trash bin. Good riddance to bad rubbish.
Around noon on another present-less Christmas for Harry, the phone rang at the Dursleys. Harry heard his uncle respond, “No, there’s no one here by that name. You have the wrong number.” He hung up, and said to his wife, “You know how irritating those wrong numbers can be.”
His wife nodded but smiled for some reason that escaped Harry.
The last day of Christmas Holidays began gloomily, with slate-grey skies that held the promise of cold, miserable weather. Harry sat on the mattress in his little room, wondering why he hadn’t received a letter, a call, or a Christmas card from either of his friends. His chest and stomach felt like the weather. The chill inside reminded him that he no longer had any friends, let alone a best friend. Making it worse, Miss Rae also had left, and he wondered what her replacement would be like. A dull ache settled over the boy, so he lay down and quickly fell asleep.
The next day the class learned their teacher for the rest of the school year would be a Miss Malgrim, a squat middle-aged woman, whose grey hair was pulled back in a severe bun. As she started speaking that first morning, several of the students cringed at the sound of her voice. Harry thought she sounded like a bull-frog that had a cold.
Later, he and the two other advanced reading students went up to Miss Malgrim’s desk when the morning recess bell rang.
“We had special reading classes with Miss Rae, once a week during recess,” Susan explained.
Miss Malgrim looked at the girl like she didn’t believe her, so Harry added, “We’re better readers than the others, so she had us read other books.”
Miss Malgrim had started shaking her head while Harry spoke. “No, no. We won’t be doing that. I have more than enough to do with all these lessons. I’m not about to add a special class for just you three.”
Jonathan looked surprised. “But the other books are too easy for us.”
“Well, you’ll just have to fend for yourselves. No one gets special treatment in my class.”
The three students stared at their new teacher, then each other, and finally walked out of the classroom.
Two friends of Harry Potter, one in Cornwall and the other in Manchester, were becoming increasingly frustrated. Each had sent two letters to Harry and had tried to call him once. Miss Rae and Sammi had exchanged several letters and even two phone calls, so they could discuss their concerns. Miss Rae could tell Sammi was hurt by the lack of response from Harry. His former teacher had been tempted several times to drive to Harry’s house, but ultimately decided doing so could create much greater problems for the boy.
Just before the spring holidays, Sammi called her former teacher. “He hasn’t responded to any of my letters, and I’ve left messages with his aunt or uncle, but he’s never called back.” She started crying. “I’m sorry. It hurts. He was supposed to spend this holiday with us. I don’t think I can send him any more letters. I can’t stand him not writing back. I thought he was my friend.”
“I know, Sammi. It’s not like Harry, is it? Just keep trying. There may be reasons we’re not aware of. Would you keep writing him, Sammi?”
“Okay, but I don’t know how many more I can do.”
“I understand.”
In Surrey, Harry was frantic.
Why haven’t Sammi or Miss Rae written or called me since they left? I’ve sent six letters to each of them, and Aunt Petunia has left three phone messages, since they won’t let me make phone calls. I’m supposed to stay with Sammi and her family next week.
The boy sagged, as if the air had been sucked out of him.
Miss Rae and Sammi didn’t mean anything they said. They’ve forgotten about me. They never cared.
The Harry Potter who returned to school after the spring holidays bore no resemblance to the student Miss Rae taught during the first semester. He showed up each day, usually with a runny nose, but seemed to have left his brain at home. Miss Malgrim remarked to some of the other teachers at school about how dull the boy was. His eyes, his hair, his expression, even his voice was dull, and he had no energy at all. The substitute teacher wondered what Miss Rae had been thinking when she wrote all those glowing comments about the boy. Whatever had happened, and Miss Malgrim said it was none of her concern, that boy had disappeared over Christmas and spring breaks.
Miss Rae sat at the kitchen table, forlornly looking out the window and taking a break from the never-ending responsibility of caring for her parents. As they often did, her thoughts turned to Harry Potter and Samantha Stephens. She shuddered, because those thoughts brought back memories that stabbed her heart.
Mum and Dad seemed fine when I left the house to drive to Little Whinging. Harry would never have ignored the letters and phone messages from Sammi and me. Those awful relatives of his had to have been doing something. I just wanted the poor boy to know we missed him.
Miss Rae closed her eyes tightly, willing herself not to cry.
I was so focused on what I wanted to say to his relatives the cell phone ringing almost caused me to drive into the hedgerow. I almost died when the caller said she was the admitting nurse at the local hospital. I’ll never know why Mum was trying to cook something when I had told her lunch was in the refrigerator. Thank God, her burns were only first degree. I thought Dad would watch out for her, but he made the fire worse. If Mr. Moresby hadn’t been in his front yard, it could have been a catastrophe.
I learned I can’t leave them alone for any amount of time. There’s no way I could take half a day or more to drive to Harry’s house, talk with him and his relatives, and drive back. Not now. I still feel guilty. Now, he probably thinks we never cared and abandoned him.
Sammi’s parents knew she was unhappy and hurt by the lack of response from Harry.
Tears flowed down the young girls cheeks. “Mum, can’t you or Da drive me to Harry’s house? I know something’s wrong. I think it’s his relatives. I need to help him.”
Her mum gazed at her sympathetically. “I know it hurts, Sammi. But we’ve explained to you. We can’t interfere with Harry’s relationship with his relatives. I’m sorry, sweetheart.” She thought, it worries me what they would do to him, if we did show up unexpectedly. Sammi will get over this eventually.
With each passing month that provided no communication, Harry’s puzzlement turned to despair, then despair to anger, and finally anger cooled into misunderstanding. He sat in his cupboard, his thoughts once again on Miss Rae and Sammi.
This hurts worse than when Uncle Vernon is mean to me. Everything hurts inside, and it seems like it will never stop.
I trusted Miss Rae. She said she would write and phone me. Why did she say she would, when she hasn’t done either?
She said I was special. I can’t stand this! I’ll never trust another teacher or any adult.
Sammi’s just as bad as Miss Rae. I thought she was my friend. I felt good when I was with her, but she lied, too. I’ll never let anyone do this to me again.
The young boy grimaced and rubbed his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath, and wrapped his arms around his body, slowly rocking until numbness replaced his thoughts. Slowly, he lay down on his thin mattress and fell asleep.
Chapter 6: Education
Author's Notes: Thanks to those of you who deemed the story worthy of DSTA nominations again this month.
I greatly appreciate the way you show your support!
Even more than usual, my thanks, gratitude, and undying admiration go to cwarbeck for the time and effort she put into beta-ing this chapter.
A smile and acknowledgment go to Melindaleo for suggesting a Dudley-based joke. I hope you and she don't mind the way I twisted canon slightly. I'm pretty sure you'll recognize what I'm referring to when you read this chapter.
This chapter moves us through the remaining years in the Dursley decade, bringing the story to a point just before Harry's eleventh birthday and all that implies. Need I say the Dursleys remain consistent in their treatment of Harry? We do see Dudley get into the act, though.
Harry Potter sat in his cupboard and wiped his runny nose on the rolled-up sleeve of his shirt. He had his most recent math test in his hand and was correcting the errors he had intentionally made in order to get his usual C or less frequent B, a practice he started early in first grade and continued into second and now third grade. He had learned that type of grade kept the Dursleys from getting upset and deflected any negative attention from his teachers. The knowledge had been hard won.
Harry paused in correcting his test paper and started thinking about the decisions he made during the summer after his first year in school.
Thinking of Miss Rae and Sammi was painful back then. He snorted ruefully. It still is. I can’t believe I let them get close to me. At least I learned that it’s best to keep away from people so they can’t hurt me. It’s better to be quiet, only answer direct questions, and not let anyone get to know me. I really made a mistake in first grade. It didn’t take long to learn how bad that decision was.
He shook his head, as he thought back to the first month of first grade.
Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had been furious when they returned from the Open House. Instead of his relatives complimenting him for a job well done and trying to motivate Dudley into trying harder, he had been punished for doing work to the level he was capable of.
Harry vowed that he would never give the Dursleys another reason to punish him. He soon worked out a plan to learn as much as possible but not show it. He would miss enough test questions to get a safe grade, turn in acceptable but not top level papers, hold back on anything artistic, and give incorrect answers often enough when called upon in class to not call attention to himself.
As the years passed by, and the teachers became used to Harry’s mediocre academic performance and his almost mute personality, the worst time for the boy came when he had to walk to the Dursleys’ house after school was let out. Over time, Harry discovered every possible route between school and number four.
With Sammi gone, along with the implied protection of her older brother, Harry had become a more frequent target of Dudley and his friends. Their activities were more incessant than dramatic. During the first grade, bumps and shoves and whispered words, like ‘freak’ or ‘weirdo’ were everyday occurrences.
But by the third grade, Aunt Petunia and the other boys’ mothers decided their little angels no longer needed parental supervision during the short walk home. The abuse soon ratcheted up several levels. Some days, Harry felt like he was in the middle of a moving dodge ball game. Dudley and his gang, which now included two more hooligans-in-training, would try to surround him and either throw dirt clods or use him as a cue ball for human bumper pool.
Harry became very adept at sussing out when they were plotting an ambush and how to escape it. On the playground, or anywhere outside for that matter, Harry learned to stay away from corners, not stand next to a fence, or walk close to a wall. He found he could be trapped more easily in any of those situations, so it became second nature to stay away from them.
As Harry trotted home, after losing his cousin and a couple of his followers, he laughed to himself. That’s the third time I’ve escaped through the Silvermans’ backyard. Thankfully, Dudley is as thick as he is . . . thick. Homework was finished in class. Guess I’ll read the book from the school library.
As soon as he walked in the door, his aunt started yelling at him. “Change into your grubby clothes and start weeding the back garden. I don’t want to see one weed left or else you won’t get dinner. Now, hurry up.”
Hello to you, too, Auntie.
Harry waited until he was in his cupboard before shaking his head. He knew from past experience, if he reacted in any way to one of his aunt’s orders, he would be assigned more chores and reminded he was lucky they provided a home for him.
More like a prison. At least it’s a nice day out, so I won’t freeze or burn out there.
Harry changed into his work clothes and looked at his books wistfully. Going outside, he grabbed several gardening tools from the shed and set to work. Though he would never admit it to the Dursleys, he enjoyed the peace of gardening and the satisfaction of making the garden look better.
His aunt had a long list of chores that she regularly assigned to him. Beyond weeding, they included mulching the garden, mowing, fertilizing, and watering the lawn, washing his uncle’s car, hoovering the carpets upstairs and down, sweeping the floors, loading and unloading the dishwasher, and cleaning the bathroom weekly.
While I do these chores, Dudley plays with his latest electronic games or ‘has tea’ at his friends’ house. I can’t believe his mum and dad fall for that line.
When he’d completed the weeding to his aunt’s satisfaction, the boy returned to the cupboard and stretched out on the mattress. He tried to imagine what his life must have been like when he was a baby and lived with his parents.
I wonder what they looked like. Did my mum stay home like Aunt Petunia? Maybe my dad was a businessman like Uncle Vernon.
Did we do stuff together? I can’t remember anything. It’s just a blank. I know I was with them. I can feel it.
Harry’s thoughts were interrupted by dust being shaken from underneath the stairs. That’s weird. No one went up the stairs. What caused the dust to fall?
“Set the table. Now!” Aunt Petunia’s strident voice and pounding on the cupboard door broke through the boy’s daydream.
Harry got up and walked into the kitchen, his irritation growing when he saw his porky cousin already sitting at the table. Can’t he move off his fat arse and take a few things from the cabinets to the table? Maybe Aunt Petunia thinks he’s too delicate or above doing any labour.
Dudley looked around in confusion. “Mum, how’d it get so hot in here?” Sweat was beading on his broad forehead.
His mum stopped mashing potatoes and looked around suspiciously. “It is hot.” Then she turned to Harry. “What did you do?”
He reacted with surprise. “Nothing,” he mumbled.
“Well, whatever, you’ve done, stop it. Don’t disturb Dudley when you set the table.” His aunt returned to mashing the potatoes.
Later, when the family and Harry were eating dinner, Dudley piped up. “Dad, Harry did something this afternoon to make it hot in here.”
Vernon Dursley turned his beady eyes on his nephew. “What did you do, boy?”
“N . . . nothing,” he replied, not looking up.
“Did you mess with the thermostat? Did you check it, Petunia?”
His wife and his nephew both answered. “No.”
The big man got up and checked the setting. “You probably raised it, then lowered it before I got home. Do that again, and you’ll get no dinner. Can your pea brain understand that?”
“Y . . . yeah.” It didn’t matter that he hadn’t done anything. The boy knew it would get worse if he argued with his uncle. He continued to sit at the table, staring at his plate, until his relatives finished.
“Put the dishes in the dishwasher, then sweep the hallway floor. I don’t want to see you after that.” His aunt looked at him like he was nothing more than her house boy.
“O . . . o . . . kay.”
Harry sometimes wondered if his aunt acted that way to show her husband she could be just as mean as he was. He loaded the dinner dishes into the dishwasher but didn’t start it, because his uncle demanded that he wash only full loads. Next, he swept the floor, knowing his aunt had swept it earlier that afternoon, as she did virtually every day. When he finished, he followed his aunt’s wishes and returned to his little room under the stairs and picked up a book on Camelot.
After reading several chapters, Harry began to feel tired, so he want upstairs to prepare for bed. He returned to his room and lay down, thinking of the majestic castle at Camelot.
Harry was sitting on a high-backed, red velvet chair that rested on an elevated section of the floor. It provided him with an unobstructed view of the huge hall he was in. He couldn’t see himself, as usual, but he looked to his left and saw a girl seated in a similar chair next to him. She wore a beautiful floor length, champagne-coloured dress, and her long, red hair was pulled away from her face and allowed to fall freely down her back.
As hard as Harry tried, he couldn’t see the girl’s face. No matter how close he leaned towards her, it remained blurry. Despite that, he knew somehow that she was smiling. A feeling of peace enwrapped him, and he reached out his hand to the girl. When she held it, he felt warmth flowing through her hand into his.
He raised his right hand towards the people who were seated at the many tables in the hall, and with a simple gesture, filled the plates and tables with enough food and drink for a feast. Harry could see juicy roast beef, shepherd’s pie, Yorkshire pudding, bowls of steaming vegetables, crusty loaves of bread, and flagons of juice . . .
Finally the dream, and the good feelings accompanying it, dissolved.
Several weeks later, Harry’s teacher gave him an envelope, along with instructions to give it to his guardians that evening. At dinner, he handed the envelope to his uncle.
“Did you get in trouble?” he growled, as he tore the envelope open. Skimming the letter inside, he looked at the boy, with anger causing his face to flush. He turned to his wife. “He’s going to cost us even more money now.”
“Why?” his wife asked, wondering what could come from school that would cost them money.
“He needs glasses. Apparently, he can’t see past the end of his nose and can’t read the board. They tested him. I’m not about to spend money on an eye doctor.” He frowned fiercely for a moment, and then a grin spread over his face. “We can take him to the pharmacy and find something there. Those glasses are cheap.”
When dinner was over and the dishes removed, Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry by the shoulder and directed him out to the car. The drive to the store took only a few minutes, and they quickly found a stand that held dozens of pairs of glasses.
“Boy! Look only at the ones marked ‘near sighted.’ The other ones won’t work.”
Being on the short side, Harry could only reach a few pairs of glasses. They were marked ‘far sighted,’ so he put them back. Meanwhile, his uncle was shoving pair after pair at him.
“Put them on and tell me if you can see clearly. Look at the far end of the store.”
They went through about ten or twelve pairs of glasses that way, but none enabled him to see clearly no matter where he looked. Finally, his uncle pushed a black pair in his hands. Harry made a face when his uncle turned away, but he put them on anyway.
Suddenly, everything became clear, from his hands to the furthest parts of the store. That’s what things are supposed to look like? Wow! I just wish these glasses weren’t so ugly.
“These work, Uncle Vernon.”
His uncle grabbed them off his face and started smiling. “Good. They’re the cheapest pair I’ve seen, only two pounds.”
They purchased the glasses, and his uncle handed them to his nephew. “Don’t break them. They’re the last pair you’re getting from me.”
Harry nodded and put the round, black framed glasses on. Too bad they’re so weird looking. Oh well, at least I can see now. I wonder if either of my parents wore glasses.
While Harry tossed and turned later that evening, a loving father read a somewhat true story about a remarkable hero to his seven-year old daughter, as he did almost every night.
When he reached the last paragraph of the story, he smiled and asked, “How does it end, sweetheart?”
The petite girl beamed back at her father, her cinnamon brown eyes sparkling. “Somehow, someway the Dark Lord’s curse did not kill brave little Harry Potter. Instead, the curse ended up destroying the evil wizard, leaving no trace of his body. Harry Potter, though, was left with a jagged scar on the right side of his forehead, amazingly shaped like a lightning bolt. Thanks to this boy’s bravery, our world was returned to us. Harry Potter is The Boy Who Lived.” The girl with flame-red hair that cascaded to the middle of her back looked up at her father. “The end.”
Her smile immediately disappeared, replaced by a curious, somewhat worried look. “What happened to little Harry after he defeated the Dark Lord?”
Arthur Weasley took both of his daughter’s tiny hands in his. “We don’t know, Ginny. Professor Dumbledore placed Harry somewhere he could be protected. We offered to have him live with us, but the Professor said Harry would be safer at this other place.”
“I sure hope he’s okay,” the young witch said.
“Me, too, Ginny. Time for bed?” He gently picked her up and walked into the kitchen, where Ginny said goodnight to her mum. Then Arthur carried his one and only daughter to her bedroom. “Good night, sprite, don’t let the bed bugs bite.”
She grinned at her dad and completed their nightly ritual. “If they do, I’ll hex them ‘til they’re black and blue.”
Her dad returned the smile. “Sweet dreams, sweet girl,” and he turned out the light with a wave of his wand.
Ginny fell asleep quickly, her last thoughts on brave little Harry Potter.
She was in a school building, similar to the one in her village of Ottery St. Catchpole but much bigger. She watched as four large boys approached a much smaller boy, who had messy black hair and taped black glasses. He had been walking down the hallway, his head down. No one greeted him, but she did notice that kids would stare at the boy’s overlarge clothes and then whisper to each other.
By this time, the bigger boys had almost caught up with the thin, dark-haired boy, and she could hear them whispering.
“Freak.”
“Weirdo.”
“Loser.”
Suddenly, the small boy sprinted down the hall, then stopped outside the door to one of the classrooms, turned, and stared at the gang, with a mixture of anger, fear, and something else showing on his face. Ginny immediately knew what the last emotion was. It was exactly what she felt when her brothers were mean to her. None of those emotions captured her attention, though.
The boy had a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.
Ginny woke up with a gasp, tears flowing down her cheeks. Harry’s not happy. He’s not being treated well.
Eventually, sleep returned, and by the time Ginevra Molly Weasley woke up the next morning, her dream was forgotten.
Ten-year old Harry Potter burst through the front door at number four Privet Drive and walked as quietly as he could to his cupboard. As soon as he closed the door behind him, Harry bent over, his hand on his knees, trying to catch his breath after having sprinted home to escape Dudley — now called Big D — and his gang. Harry knew something was up when half the group split off sooner than usual. A couple of minutes later, they had shown up at the far end of the street Harry was walking on. He quickly turned around and confirmed his assumption. Dudley and the remaining followers were at the other end of the block. Both groups sauntered towards him, smiling victoriously. They had him trapped.
Harry sped up, until he was about halfway between the two groups, then started running as fast as he could, while crossing over to the other side of the street. The second group moved over to that side. As soon as Harry was within a house of them, he sprinted across the street again. Only one guy in the group was fast enough to get over there in time.
The two boys arrived at the same place at the same time, and Harry put out his arms to brace himself for the inevitable collision. The next thing he knew the boy was flying back and landing heavily on his back. Harry made it home safely. But as he lay on his mattress, he wondered how he had knocked the much bigger boy so far when he didn’t even remember touching him.
I guess all this running to escape from Dudley and his gang has built up more muscles than I realized. Luckily, Big D is as slow as a pig in a wig, and the gits in his gang are too stupid to think on their own.
Harry finally caught his breath and started working on his essay for English. As he had been doing for the past five years, he wrote a paper without restricting himself, writing in the style and depth he was capable of. When that paper was completed, he started a second one — the one he would turn in to the teacher — simplifying the sentence structure and words used, watering down the concept presented, and leaving out a few of the points he’d made in the first paper. Finishing, he smiled to himself. The first essay was filed with all the other “good” papers in a separate folder that no one ever saw.
The turn-in paper shouldn’t impress anybody. At least I won’t get punished for this one. Should be another C, Potter.
Next he did the maths assignment, making sure to miss about twenty per cent of the questions and laughing occasionally to himself at the incorrect answers he would concoct. It reminded him of an exchange he had with his teacher that morning. Mrs Gray had called upon Harry to answer a story problem. The boy kept track of his answers, making sure he missed one of four questions asked of him in class, so no one would think he was too smart and bring it to the attention of the Dursleys.
“Mr Potter, your answer please, to question number four,” Mrs Gray asked.
“Th . . .thirty-eight,” the boy answered, knowing the correct answer was thirty-six. Several of the boys in class laughed at his stammering. Harry felt his anger flare but continued to stare at the top of his desk.
With his homework done for the day, Harry grabbed a book from the school library. He had been putting off reading it, because it was the last book in the school that he hadn’t read. Desperation had overcome reason, when he was forced to check out Nancy Drew mysteries, since those were the last books left for him. This book was the last of the series. The boy had been extra careful to ensure that absolutely no one saw him with the Nancy Drew books, knowing he would be ridiculed unmercifully for the rest of his life if someone found out he was reading “girl” books. He had checked the books out only because his aunt had refused to sign the permission slip to enable him to get a library card.
She had looked at him suspiciously. “You reading books? More likely you’d try to steal some, then sell them, you little snot.” She’d ripped up the slip and binned it.
In the fifth grade during early December, a countrywide standardized test was given to all students. The test was comprised of three parts, language arts, including vocabulary and reading comprehension, mathematics, and English and world history. The exam was conducted over three separate days.
While Mrs Gray handed out the first of the language arts tests, Harry came to a decision. There’s no way we’re getting the test results back where the Dursleys can see them. Mrs Gray said their purpose was to measure how the schools are doing. I don’t need to hold back.
Several weeks later, Mrs Gray spoke to Harry. “Mr Potter, please see me before you leave today.”
Everyone in class looked from Mrs Gray to Harry, then back again, trying to figure out what the quiet boy had done to be kept after school the day before Christmas hols. When he went up to his teacher’s desk at the end of the school day, he, too, wondered what she wanted.
“Please give this envelope to your aunt and uncle. I want to meet with you and them, after school tomorrow.” When the boy couldn’t completely hide his concern, she added, “Don’t worry, Harry.”
Walking home, Harry wished he knew how to open, then reseal an envelope, so he could read his teacher’s note. When he got home, he handed the envelope to his aunt, who put it on the dining table, where his uncle always sat. Anticipating the big man’s reaction made the boy’s stomach roll like a miniature roller coaster had been placed inside it.
Making dinner occupied most of Harry’s attention over the next hour. Finally, Uncle Vernon arrived, and they sat down to eat. But before starting, he picked up the envelope and quickly read the note inside.
“What have you done now, boy? Your teacher wants to meet with us tomorrow afternoon, like we have nothing better to do. If you’ve created another problem, I’ll make you rue the day you were born.”
Harry knew to look in the general direction of his uncle and to keep a neutral expression. The man turned to his wife.
“We have to meet with his teacher at 3:30 tomorrow.”
The next day, Harry felt like he was waiting for a sentencing. He knew his life was going to end soon after the last bell of the day, despite his teacher’s assurance that he shouldn’t worry. The problem was, Harry thought, she didn’t know the Dursleys or what could set them off.
Shortly before the final bell rang, his aunt and uncle arrived. They glared at Harry for having to make this effort because of him, then went straight to where their son was seated in the back of the room.
Seemingly seconds later, the bell rang, and Harry walked slowly to Mrs Gray’s desk to find out why she wanted to talk with them.
Dudley stayed in the back of the room, while his parents sat down by the teacher.
“Mr and Mrs Dursley, I have news about your nephew’s standardized test results. You are aware the class took the tests earlier this month?”
Uncle Vernon impatiently nodded his head. “Yes, yes, go on.”
Mrs Gray looked slightly affronted but proceeded. “Harry’s test results for each category are among the highest in the district. You must be very pleased for him.”
Three open mouths and three surprised sets of eyes stared back at the teacher.
Oh, no! I’m going to get killed. I never thought the tests would be discussed.
The teacher looked puzzled by the three reactions, but she continued. “While Harry’s test scores are something to be proud of, that’s not why I asked you to come here today.” The Dursleys and Harry continued to goggle at her, but for entirely different reasons. “I wanted to discuss the rather large disparity between these scores and the work he does at school.”
A triumphant smile came over Vernon’s face. “It should be obvious. The boy cheated.”
Mrs Gray’s eyes shifted to Harry. “Did you?”
Harry hesitated, then shook his head, feeling a strange mixture of pride and wanting to shrink from sight.
Aunt Petunia snorted.
Uncle Vernon scoffed. “You’ve seen the boy’s work. How else could he have done so well? Despite our best efforts, he’s taken after his parents — a very bad lot, if you know what I mean.” His uncle looked at the boy, knowing he couldn’t say or do anything. “They just up and dumped the boy on us years ago. Didn’t want anything to do with him.” He wiped his forehead with a handkerchief, while Aunt Petunia fanned herself with her hand.
Harry bit his tongue but looked at his uncle with fury in his eyes.
Mrs Gray looked nonplussed by the uncle’s comments and worried about the silent exchange between the man and his nephew. “Well, I proctored the tests myself, so I know there was no cheating. I was hoping we could narrow the distance between the test results and Harry’s daily work but perhaps not.”
She looked searchingly at Harry but received no response from him, other than his eyes briefly opening wider. If she’d blinked at that instant, she would have missed the response. She looked at the Dursleys.
“Thank you for coming in on such short notice. I do hope we can move forward in a positive manner.” She was concerned about the emotions boiling just below the surface but felt constrained against doing anything about them. “Happy Holidays to all of you. See you in a few weeks, Harry.”
The trip back to number four was made in silence.
As soon as they entered and shut the door, Uncle Vernon turned angrily to Harry, his face already a violent shade of crimson. “What in blazes did you think you were doing, you little shite?”
He grabbed the boy by the shoulders. “We told you we wouldn’t tolerate you making Dudley look bad. You just couldn’t resist, could you? After all we’ve done for you. You’re as bad as your parents.”
Harry wrenched himself free of the man’s hold on him. “Don’t talk about my parents like that.” His eyes blazed with hatred towards his uncle.
“What’s the matter, boy? Can’t stand the truth that your parents dumped you here with us? You need to be taught a lesson.”
The man took a step towards the boy, glaring at his nephew. Harry backed up and put his arms out to protect himself. Uncle Vernon took another step forward . . .
“Ow! Shite!” Vernon Dursley stopped in his tracks, as if he had hit a wall about two feet in front of Harry. Vernon’s face contorted in pain, as his hand instinctively went to his throbbing nose.
Before his uncle could do anything else, Harry quickly pushed his arms out towards the big man and sent him sprawling to the floor.
Harry looked at the shocked faces of his aunt and cousin and with a feeling of panic flooding through his system, bolted from the house.
What happened? Why did Uncle Vernon stop like that?
Did I actually push him the ground?
He’s going to kill me.
By the time Harry looked up, he was standing in front of the play park. As he walked towards the swings, he noticed he was both sweating and chilled and felt like his insides were buzzing.
Should I go back to the house? What will they do to me?
I never thought anyone would see those test results. I’ll have to hold back all the time now. I’ll just tell Mrs Gray I guessed a lot.
Maybe the Dursleys would believe me if I told them that. I have to return. I don’t have any money and no one would take me in. The Dursleys’ll either punish me or give me so many chores I’ll wish they had punished me instead.
Why do I keep creating problems?
As soon as Harry left the house, Aunt Petunia and Dudley raced over to Vernon and tried to help the bulky man up from the floor.
“Bloody hell. That little snot is lucky I tripped. Petunia, we need to talk about what to do with that juvenile delinquent.”
Dudley got the message and went up the stairs to his bedroom, while Vernon and Petunia went into the dining room and sat down at the table.
“Vernon, did you really trip?” Petunia asked quietly.
The look that usually preceded a blustering response briefly crossed Vernon’s face, then he became pensive. “No.” He shook his head.
“Was it . . . was it magic?” Her words were barely whispered.
“I think so. He did something that stopped me. It was like I hit a wall. Hurts like hell.”
“What about when you fell?” she asked.
“Don’t know. He didn’t touch me, but it felt like I was being pushed by giant hands. Next thing I knew, I was on the floor.”
Petunia looked both puzzled and worried. “Do you think he knew what he was doing?”
“No way,” her husband answered. “He looked surprised. He didn’t know how he did it.”
Petunia nodded her head. “Lily didn’t know either, until that woman came and told her she was a witch.” The last word was spat out angrily. “Then, we need to threaten that we’ll take him to an orphanage, if anything like that happens again.”
Vernon started smiling. “And we can work his skinny arse off. Can you believe he did that well on those damn tests?”
A wistful expression came over Petunia’s face. “Yes, I can. Lily and James were both outstanding students. Lily was always top of her class. He’s kept it hidden.”
“I wish we’d never seen the kid. He’s a damn nuisance.”
Petunia nodded in agreement, before softly saying, “Yes, he is.”
I really need to return. It’s getting cold. I’m hungry. I have nowhere else to go. Might as well get it over.
The boy reluctantly got up from the swing and walked slowly across the sporadic tufts of almost dead grass, out the gate, and down the street to number four. As soon as he entered the house, his aunt and uncle descended on him.
“Boy, we need to talk with you. Now! Dining room.” His uncle’s command sounded like a bulldog barking.
Harry wasn’t surprised by the orders, but he was shocked that they weren’t accompanied by any threats. Nevertheless, Harry kept his distance from his uncle as they proceeded into the dining room, where Aunt Petunia already was seated.
Without any preliminary discussions, she began to speak. “We can’t have any repeats of today’s episode. While it’s obvious we don’t like you, we have provided food and shelter for nine years, without a pence of compensation. If anything like this happens again, you will be taken to an orphanage. Do you understand?”
The boy nodded his head without looking up.
His uncle took over the conversation. “Your chores will be expanded to include making breakfast and dinner every day. Your aunt will tell you what to make. Any more of your crap, boy, and you’re out. We won’t tolerate this type of behaviour in our house. Now get out of my sight.”
Harry nodded again and stood up. Once inside his cupboard, he pulled out the book Miss Rae had given him, but he couldn’t read anything. The tears that had pooled in his eyes made everything blurry. He put the book down and curled up on the mattress.
I really screwed up this time. I don’t even know what I did.
The only way I’ll be able to get through this is to do what they ask, say nothing, and hold back at school.
Why am I so bad?
The battering thoughts exhausted the boy, and he finally fell asleep.
The boy’s active mind continued to churn out images while he slept. One dream replaced another, each one worse than the one it replaced.
Harry stood alone, shrouded by a thick mist that reduced everything to various shades of grey. He could feel the presence of other people but could not see them. The boy began to walk slowly along a dirt path, trying to find the people, whose voices he couldn’t quite make out. As he moved through the damp, heavy air, he could feel his hair, face, and clothes getting more and more laden with moisture, and he had to continually clean off his glasses, as they would fog over, rendering him essentially sightless.
Moving down the path, he saw barren trees off to the sides, before the fog caused everything else to disappear. He could still hear the voices, so he continued walking in the direction of the sounds. Finally, he came to a small clearing, where he saw the same boy and girl he had dreamed of before; flashes of red would occasionally float through the clearing and then disappear. For the first time ever, Harry thought the girl might be Sammi, but she remained obscured by the thick mist, so he couldn’t tell for sure.
An odd feeling came over Harry. He thought this location, with its murky weather and desolate features, should scare him. But he wasn’t afraid. Instead, he felt calm, even safe, though he had no idea why. Maybe it’s because of the boy and girl, he thought.
A thick cloud of fog descended on the clearing. In the next instant, Harry found himself in someone’s house. It seemed familiar but he couldn’t place it. Two adults, obscured as always, were in the sitting room, a red and yellow-hued fire blazed in the fireplace. He watched the adults as they talked to each other. Suddenly, the air seemed to be swirling, and a feeling of fear flooded the room. The adults moved quickly, he heard noises — explosions and unusual voices, then green lights, smoke, and nothing, except pain and blackness.
When the black shroud lifted, Harry found himself sitting in a classroom, in the first desk of a middle row. He looked around and was surprised to find he was the only student in the room. A middle-aged woman, totally unremarkable looking, was writing words on the board at the front of the room. Question of the Day was written at the top of the board. Below it was the question.
Harry smiled to himself, thinking it would be fun to answer the question. The woman, or maybe she was the teacher, had written many other words below the question. Hugs . . . kisses . . . other touches . . . playing together . . . teasing/joking . . . advice given . . . being tucked into bed . . . reading together . . . birthdays celebrated . . . Christmas and other holidays . . .
Harry became angrier with each word or phrase that he read. Each had the same answer . . . nothing. He could remember nothing about his parents, nor did he know what they looked like, what their names were, where they were now, or why they had left him with the Dursleys. The list of what they hadn’t done, hadn’t shared could go on and on.
Harry was already asking himself the same question, when the teacher wrote it on the board.
He had no idea if anyone had ever loved him.
Harry woke up with tears streaming down his cheeks, his breathing ragged and gasping, and sweat dripping down his forehead, neck, and back. His small room felt like the inside of a furnace.
I can’t stand this anymore. I don’t want to hurt so much inside. It feels like I’m shrivelling up. I’ll just do whatever the Dursleys want me to do. I won’t talk. I’ll be average in school. God, I feel so empty. If I stop caring about anything, then I’ll stop hurting.
That was the philosophy Harry Potter brought back to school after the Christmas Holidays. While other kids shared what they’d received for Christmas, he ignored their discussions and created his own world, so nothing could get close enough to hurt him anymore.
That was Harry Potter’s life through the rest of the school year and into the first month of the summer, as he approached his eleventh birthday.
Chapter 7: Consequences
Author's Notes: Thanks to cwarbeck for again keeping this story focused and not letting me stray too far off the path, while allowing me to play a bit with canon.
Speaking of which, events in this chapter prompt me to repeat a comment from the story summary: 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.
For the first time in the story, we have very little interaction between Harry and the Dursleys, though I'm sure they will still irritate most people.
“You!”
From his cupboard, Harry could hear the shock and anger in his aunt’s exclamation, as she confronted the person who had rung the doorbell and was now standing on her front porch.
“Yes, it is I, Petunia. May I come in?”
The qualities inherent in the man’s voice startled Harry, as he focused on the conversation. The tone conveyed power but also kindness, intelligence, and a feeling of calmness. Harry was intrigued, because he had not sensed these qualities from any man he had met before, but there also was a feeling of disquietude he didn’t understand.
“No! Go away!”
An edge of panic was evident in his aunt’s few words. Harry imagined her looking over the man’s shoulders to ensure the neighbours weren’t listening to this exchange.
“Petunia,” the man calmly replied, “you knew I’d be returning at this time. Besides, you don’t want someone like me standing on your front porch for too long, do you?”
Harry couldn’t help but smile at the man’s implied threat, but quickly wondered how the man would know that much of the Dursleys’ behaviour was governed by the opinions of their neighbours.
“Okay,” his aunt said in frustration. “But you can’t stay long. We don’t want your type here. He doesn’t know about you and your kind.”
Two questions quickly formed in Harry’s mind. What did his aunt mean by ‘your type’ and who was she referring to when she said ‘He doesn’t know . . .?’
“Where is Harry?”
“He’s, ah, well.” His aunt’s voice took on a strident quality. “He’s in there.”
Harry knew she was pointing at the cupboard.
“Petunia, why is Harry locked in a small cupboard?”
The power, this time tinged with anger, sent a chill down Harry’s spine. Who is this man?
Flustered, his aunt replied, “He likes it in there. He’s not very social, you know.”
“Let me see him, please.”
The familiar sound of the deadbolt being unlocked, then the wash of light assaulted Harry’s senses, and his eyes squinted in reaction. A shadowed figure reached a long arm covered by a shiny purple sleeve and ending with long fingers on an elegant hand into the cupboard. Harry recoiled into the furthest corner. A remarkable, but aged, face peeked in, searching for and finding the boy.
“Please, dear boy, come out. I wish you no harm. I have matters to discuss with you.”
The elderly man’s intelligent blue eyes twinkled, as Harry fought an internal battle.
Who is this old guy? Why is he dressed that way?
He just wants to get me into the hall, so he can hurt me.
But if he wanted to, he could have come into the cupboard and I wouldn’t have had any chance to escape.
Aunt Petunia is afraid of him. That can’t be bad.
His voice has a lot of good qualities, and I can’t feel anything threatening coming from him. I’ll listen to what he has to say, but I need to watch him.
These thoughts raced through Harry’s mind in a matter of seconds, as the man watched him with keen interest.
Harry finally nodded his head, and the man moved back to give him enough room to exit through the small closet door. Harry was not prepared for his first full view of the man. He had to look up, as the man was quite tall. He was extremely old, but Harry felt a youthful exuberance emanating from him. A long, silver grey beard competed for attention with his equally long silver grey hair. Most strangely of all, the man was wearing purple robes that looked almost like a dress, and it was covered by silver stars, planets, and moons that moved randomly about the fabric.
Harry stood stock still and stared at the man, his eyes wide and his mouth open.
The man smiled. “I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”
Inside, Harry started laughing, but quickly stopped when he realized he knew no one who would pull such a delicious joke on him as this. The man looked, acted, talked, and was dressed like Merlin in the Camelot stories he had devoured. Harry’s face betrayed no emotion, as his mind raced, trying to figure who this man was and why he wanted to talk with him, Harry Potter, a nobody.
What’s this guy up to?
“Come, Harry, let us move into the sitting room, so we can talk and get to know each other.” The man’s soft words contrasted with the hard, searching look he gave Aunt Petunia.
The man reached out a hand toward Harry’s shoulder, as if to guide him toward the sitting room. A grunt escaped Harry’s lips, as he quickly moved out of the man’s reach. He noticed a curious expression on the man’s face.
Harry sat on the usually forbidden couch, while the tall, slender man folded into Uncle Vernon’s favourite chair. He looked at Harry for several seconds before speaking.
“I would imagine you are shocked by my presence and appearance and wonder why I want to talk with you. Am I right, Mr Potter?”
Mr Potter? No one’s ever addressed me like that. He’s had chances to hurt me and hasn’t. He’s really old. If he starts at me, I’ll be able to outrun him.
The boy nodded his head, all the while staring at the grandfatherly looking man, whose eyes had been casually examining the boy from head to foot.
He smiled. “Excellent! Where to start?” he said almost to himself, then he brightened. “Perhaps, it would be most productive if I asked you some questions, then I can ascertain what types of information to provide you. Does that meet with your approval, Mr Potter?”
The boy’s nod was so quick, so slight, a less observant person would have missed it.
“Good,” the man replied with a smile, his eyes twinkling again. “Do you know much about your parents or your life before you arrived here?”
Harry’s heart constricted and his stomach immediately became upset. He took a deep breath, not understanding why he had reacted like that. He looked warily at the man and shook his head briefly.
The man’s expression softened, having seen the boy virtually curl into himself, a painful expression on his face. “I’m sorry, Harry, did that question startle you?” The boy just shrugged. “Let me ask another question, then. Has your aunt or uncle spoken about your mother or father, told you about your time with them, or how you came to be here?”
Harry’s eyes widened with each question. He could feel himself becoming numb, like he was trapped within himself. Something began boiling inside him, but he had no clue what it was. He noticed an alarmed expression on the man’s face.
I really don’t like this Headmaster.
Before he exploded, Harry blurted out, “Th . . . they dumped me here.” The boy’s voice sounded rusty, as if it hadn’t been used often.
Dumbledore’s eyes glinted menacingly, but quickly returned to normal. “You were told your parents abandoned you?”
The boy nodded slightly, curious about the old man’s reaction.
The headmaster’s face hardened for a second before it melted back into its usual soft expression. Then, he did the oddest thing.
“Petunia, please come in here. I know you’re standing behind the hallway wall, listening to our conversation.”
His Aunt Petunia slowly entered the room, with a blazing, yet embarrassed look on her face.
“He knows nothing?” Dumbledore asked.
His aunt vehemently shook her head. “We won’t have that freakishness in our house.” Then, she turned abruptly and went up the stairs. Harry could hear her enter her bedroom and slam the door closed.
The man suddenly looked much older, as he heaved a sigh. “Oh my.” He sat, thinking for what seemed like several minutes, finally reached a decision and began to speak again.
“Harry? Oh, may I call you by your given name?” The boy shrugged his shoulders. “Thank you. If you like, you may call me Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster, Sir, or you barmy old codger.” The man laughed at the last moniker.
“As you might have figured out already, I run a school for young people, special students like you, Harry.”
A look of terror spread over the boy’s face.
It’s true. I’m being sent to The St Brutus School for Criminally Insane Boys. I knew I couldn’t trust him.
The feeling of fear, mixed with anger, returned. The boy became vaguely aware that objects had started to shake around him — books, pictures, lamps, bric-a-brac — even the couch was vibrating.
Instantly, the Professor was next to him. “What’s wrong, dear boy?”
His voice was soft but laced with concern. He reached out to reassure the boy, but Harry recoiled so fast he had moved to the other side of the couch before the man realized it. The man’s shoulders, in fact his entire body, sagged at the sight.
“I won’t touch you, Harry. I will never hurt you, my boy. I realize you don’t believe me at this point, but that is my promise to you, and I never break my promises.”
Dumbledore stood up. “Will you allow me to go up and speak with your aunt? There are a few things I need to understand. May I do that, Harry?”
Despite having an overwhelming feeling of foreboding about this man and what he wanted to talk about, the boy nodded briefly and curled up on the couch, as the stranger walked slowly up the stairs.
“Petunia, we need to talk.”
“No!” a muffled voice responded. “Go away. You’re not welcome here.”
The Professor shook his head, tried and found the door locked, and whispered, “Alohomora.” Walking into the bedroom, he ignored the woman’s shocked look.
“You’ve mistreated the poor boy. Why, Petunia?”
Terror quickly turned to anger, as she spat out her response. “We never wanted him. We didn’t ask for this, especially a boy like him, from . . . them. Lily never asked us. You didn’t ask. We’ve never wanted him here. We do not want people like him and you around us. It was bad enough with Lily and James.”
“Who are Lily and James?” Standing in the bedroom doorway, the boy looked puzzled, wondering how they were like him.
Sadness rolled off Dumbledore as he studied the boy, then he stared at Petunia. “He doesn’t even know his parents’ names?”
Petunia’s guilt threatened to overwhelm her, but then her anger flared. She tried several times to say something but failed. She ended up only shaking her head.
Dumbledore turned to Harry. “Let’s go back downstairs, my boy. We have many things to discuss.”
But before leaving the bedroom, the Professor said, “Petunia, I am going to leave after I’ve talked with Harry for a while longer. But I will be back tonight, with an associate, after Vernon has returned from work. We will get to the bottom of this.” The wizard turned so quickly, his robes whipped around his torso.
“Come, Harry, let us talk,” and he gestured for Harry to proceed him down the stairs, including the squeaky step, fifth from the top.
Once they were seated, Harry back on the couch and Dumbledore in Uncle Vernon’s chair, the Headmaster began. “As you may have surmised from my question to your aunt, Lily and James were your parents. You didn’t know their names?”
Harry shook his head.
A second thought startled the Headmaster. “Have you ever seen a picture of them?”
Another negative response.
The Headmaster said softly, “You look just like your father, but your eyes are exactly like your mother’s. I imagine you’ll hear those comparisons quite often, once you are around people who knew them.”
A wave of longing crashed over the boy. Stop it! he thought. How could I miss people I never knew? I’m being a baby.
“Harry, I’m afraid I have some bad news for you. The reason you’ve lived with your relatives all these years is because your parents died when you were a baby.”
Harry’s world exploded around him, everything began to turn a bright silvery colour that obscured the man, the furniture, the room itself. The boy felt like he was free falling down an endless chasm.
They died? How? Why?
Why didn’t anyone tell me before? His thoughts slammed to a stop. Did my relatives know and not tell me? Dumbledore knows. Why didn’t he tell me?
Who decided to leave me with the Dursleys?
The last thought nearly paralyzed him. I’ll never get to see them now.
A wave of exhaustion swept over him. The boy’s breathing became fast and swallow, until he forced it back to a normal rhythm. The Headmaster had observed his reaction, knowing at some point he would need to bring up everything that was special about the boy, his family, and the world he would soon re-enter.
After the boy had settled down, the wizard asked, “Harry, would you do me a favour?” The boy nodded slowly, wondering what he could possibly do for this man. “Please look at the flowers on the lamp table next to you.”
The boy did. They were wilted, yet he knew they had been fine when they walked into the room. He looked at the Headmaster, confusion evident on his face.
“Please understand what I’m about to tell is not a criticism. I’m not upset with you.” Harry gazed steadily at the wizard, then nodded his understanding. “Your emotions, the sadness you were feeling about your parents, caused the flowers to wilt. But there’s no need to worry yourself about it.”
The Headmaster’s last words were ignored, as Harry’s mind went directly to the consequences of him wilting the flowers. Uncle Vernon would punish him, and then lock him in the cupboard without dinner. He began to tremble.
Dumbledore stood up, wanting to sit on the couch so he could be closer to the boy. But before the man was fully standing, Harry had jumped up and darted behind the couch, so he could use it as a barrier between him and the man.
“Oh, Harry, I’m not going to hurt you. Are you more comfortable with the couch between us?”
“Ye . . . yes.” His breathing became laboured.
“That’s fine, then. If I want to move again, I’ll I ask you first. Will that be better?”
The boy nodded his head, warily eyeing the old man.
“Splendid. I apologize for not doing that this time. Please forgive me for startling you.”
The Headmaster took Harry’s continued staring at him as acceptance of his apology.
“What I’m about to tell you will seem to be impossible, like I’m making it up. But I can assure you it is the truth, and I think on some level you already know it.”
With a deep breath, Dumbledore continued, “Have you wondered how you’ve done things like make those flowers wilt or the couch and other objects vibrate?”
The boy’s eyes narrowed. He had wondered about the strange things that happened around him. He just hadn’t thought that he had caused them to happen, like the Headmaster just said.
“You have wondered, haven’t you?”
The boy nodded his head, slightly more actively this time; he opened his mouth to respond, but no words came forth.
“Harry, we’ve now come to the part that you won’t believe. You are — and your dear parents were — magical. All those things you couldn’t explain were caused by your magic.”
The boy’s eyes narrowed and his forehead furrowed. The Headmaster could see him working his way through this news, the ramifications, and . . .
“Tha . . . that’s why they hate me,” the boy stated flatly.
“I’m afraid so, dear boy.”
The boy fell silent again. Those things I’ve done. The dreams that didn’t make sense. The flying, stuff moving . . . they’re all magic.
The good feelings from learning something that explained so much were quickly swept away. Anger, the need to strike out, to punish someone for what had been done to him, coursed through the boy’s body. He could feel something like electricity growing inside him.
“Harry!” The man’s voice startled him. “Please calm down. You’re about to lose control of your magic.”
His blazing emerald eyes bore into the blue ones of the Headmaster. Realization struck both simultaneously. Dumbledore cast a shield over Harry to contain the explosion that followed seconds later. The house shook, windows rattled, and currents swirled through the sitting room where the two wizards stood. Dumbledore increased the power going into the shield to make sure Harry’s anger wouldn’t destroy anything, while ensuring the shield wasn’t too strong and bounce the forces back at the boy.
Finally, the surge from the boy ceased, and he collapsed to the floor, shaking and sweating. Dumbledore cast Calming and Cooling spells over the boy, while remaining safely away from him. He worried that the boy would react again if he moved too close, and he had to admit to himself the boy’s power was staggering when it was focused. Albus knew he would have to deal at a later time with the fact that he had been the focus of the boy’s anger.
Soon, the boy recovered, sitting up and taking great gulps of air. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, moving his fringe and revealing his hated scar. Seconds later, Harry’s eyes were again fixed on the Headmaster.
“Yu . . . You put me here, didn’t you?” The boy’s voice was hard but surprisingly unemotional.
“Yes, I did, Harry. It was the best decision at the time.” When the boy started, he quickly added, “It’s a long story, and I think this is probably not the best time to discuss it with you. Suffice it to say, you are magical, what we call a wizard, and it will soon be time for you to rejoin the wizarding world. We’ll discuss all of that when I return with a friend once your uncle is home. So . . .”
“You ca . . . caused all of this.”
Images of his treatment at the hands of the Dursleys over the past decade ripped through his mind.
“Harry!”
The boy turned quickly to the interrupting sound.
“I need to cast a Calming Charm on you in order to stop a repeat of your earlier reaction. It won’t hurt.”
Then, the wizard raised his hand and suddenly the boy felt his anger leave him, replaced by a vague feeling of calm. The Headmaster assessed the boy’s reaction to the second charm, amazed it had so little effect on the boy and that the first one had dissipated so quickly.
“I’ll return later today. Please try to remain calm and don’t let anyone upset you.” He stared deeply into the boy’s eyes, until he felt assured that Harry had understood him and would try to comply.
“I’ll do everything I can to ensure things will improve for you. Oh, Happy Birthday, Harry.”
With a quick nod, the Headmaster waved his hand at the wilted flowers, restoring them, and then he departed out the front door, the invitation to attend Hogwarts still in his pocket. By the time Harry moved over to the front window, the man had disappeared, leaving the boy to his swirling thoughts.
It’s my birthday? I’d completely forgotten.
I had magical parents, James and Lily. I’m magical.
Why didn’t I know these things? Why was I forced to stay with the Dursleys?
There’s a magical world? Why haven’t I lived with a magical family?
Didn’t Dumbledore know how I would be treated here? Did he even care? Why didn’t he ever check on me?
Where is he going to take me? He mentioned some school. Does he really work for St Brutus?
Everything that’s been done was his decision. He’s the one who made me live like this.
Stop it! That feeling’s coming back. I’ve got to calm down.
Indistinct noises emanated from the house, as the boy started taking slow, deep breaths until the anger had subsided.
Dumbledore is responsible for all of this. I can’t trust him.
While Harry sat in his cupboard, stewing about all of the changes confronting him, Albus Dumbledore called on one of his favourite families, having verified earlier through a Floo call that they’d be home and available for a visit.
“Hello, Albus,” greeted the red-haired Molly Weasley, as she let him in the front door of their ramshackle home, oddly named The Burrow. “Can I get you some tea?”
“That would be lovely, Molly. Thank you. Where is Arthur? I need to discuss this with both of you.”
“Oh, he’s out back in the shed, playing with those infernal plugs of his,” she groused, pouring some tea, as the professor sat down at the large kitchen table. She looked out the window. “Here he comes now.”
The tall, senior member of the Weasley family entered the house. “Albus, always good to see you. I see Molly has already got you some tea. Have some biscuits to go with it.” He set the tin next to their guest. “What brings you out here on this fine summer day?”
Arthur and Molly pulled up chairs and looked expectantly at the Headmaster, both having the feeling this was not a casual visit.
“Shall I come straight to the point?”
They both nodded.
“You are two of the few people who know that ten years ago I left Harry Potter somewhere I deemed he would be the most protected.” They nodded, both leaning forward slightly. “I can tell you now he has been with his only living relatives, specifically Lily’s sister, Petunia, her husband, Vernon, and their son, Dudley, who is Harry’s and Ron’s age.”
Molly’s cheeks darkened. “I still wish you would have left him with us. We knew James and Lily. Harry had played with Ron and Ginny, and he would have grown up in a wizarding family.”
Dumbledore shook his head. “If only we knew how wise your arguments were back then.” Arthur’s forehead furrowed in thought. “Alas, I thought protecting Harry from Voldemort was the most important part of the decision.”
He looked at the Weasley parents. “I was wrong.”
“What is it, Albus? Just tell us, please,” Mr Weasley requested.
With every one of his one-hundred and fifty-two years showing on his face, Dumbledore said, “They mistreated him.” Molly gasped. “We are now certain it has been going on for years.”
Arthur swore under his breath, while Molly whispered, “Oh, Merlin. What kind of people would do that to a child?”
Arthur took his wife’s hand in his. “He will live with us. That’s what you’re asking, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but it’s not as simple as that . . .”
Molly cut him off. “Yes, Albus, it is as simple as that. If you want us to know additional information, we’ll listen to you. But he will live with us. He should have been here from the time his parents, well . . . you know.”
The elderly wizard searched the eyes of his two friends. “You’re right, Molly. Thank you both. You do need to know how Harry has been affected by all this.”
Two hours later, tears streamed down Molly’s cheeks and Arthur alternated between anger and disbelief, his chalk white cheeks in vivid contrast to his freckles and thinning reddish hair. Dumbledore had spent the last half hour calming the couple, both of them wanting to curse the Dursleys into oblivion.
“Harry is not the cheerful, loving and beloved infant you knew prior to that Halloween night. Knowing what you do now about his physical and emotional problems, I need to ask one last time . . .”
“No, Albus,” Molly interrupted again, “you do not need to ask. We want Harry to become part of our family.”
“The only question is, when will he arrive?” Arthur asked.
“Tonight, if that is not too inconvenient.”
Arthur nodded and turned to his wife. “He can stay in Bill’s old room.”
“Good! I’ll get it ready.” Molly smiled. “He’ll be here for Ginny’s birthday.”
Dumbledore cautioned, “Remember, he may not be ready for something like that. I am sure he hasn’t had much social interaction. A party, especially a Weasley party, may be overwhelming for him.”
Molly nodded. “We understand. We’ll watch carefully. And we understand his problems with men and males in general. I still can’t believe those . . . people . . . let their son treat his own cousin that way.”
“I certainly never considered that possibility. Now, if you’ll permit me, I do have several other stops today. Thank you for your hospitality, and more so, for your generous offer to provide a real home for Harry. I know that he will eventually appreciate your kindness.”
“We’ll see you later tonight, then,” Arthur said.
“Thank you for letting us do this, Albus,” Molly added.
With a toss of Floo powder and a roar of green flames, Albus Dumbledore disappeared, with the destination — ‘Headmaster’s Office, Hogwarts’ — still reverberating in the kitchen.
Unseen by anyone, Ginny Weasley tip-toed back up the stairs, skipping the squeaky third step from the top, and entered her bedroom, her heart overflowing with sorrow but also hope for the young wizard who would soon be joining her family.
“I’ve failed him, Minerva.” The wizard’s face reflected the turmoil this new revelation had caused him.
“What do you mean, Albus?”
The Deputy Headmistress watched her long-time colleague with concern, as he unnecessarily rearranged the papers on his large mahogany desk. He shook his head, most likely recalling the decisions he had made a decade ago, amongst the physical and emotional ruins at the Potters’ house in Godric’s Hollow.
“I focused entirely on protecting Harry from Voldemort. I never considered that the greater danger could be from his own relatives. I thought the blood protections would keep him safe . . .”
“His relatives?”
“They’ve horribly mistreated him, Minerva. Even worse, I’m certain I’ve just scratched the surface regarding the ramifications of what they’ve done.” He looked out the window in his circular office, not seeing the Quidditch pitch, the expanse of grass leading to it, or the blue-grey mountains rising in the background. “He’s practically skin and bones. He was wearing hand-me-down clothes, undoubtedly worn by his cousin, that were torn and hadn’t been cleaned in ages. They’re so big on him another boy could easily fit inside them.”
McGonagall remained silent, knowing Dumbledore had more to say, that he needed to rid the poison from his system.
A haunted look shadowed the Headmaster’s face. “I don’t think he said more than twenty words during my time there.” Minerva’s eyes widened and her lips turned white from being pressed together so tightly. “He communicated primarily through nods of his head and shrugs of his shoulders. Yet, he has a huge reservoir of anger inside him.”
The wizard’s eyes brightened momentarily, before resuming their dull appearance. “He already possesses extraordinary power.”
“How do you know this, Albus?”
“He started to lose control one time. Even with a shield I had placed around him, the house shook. Calming and Cooling Charms barely affected him. I’m quite certain he has an explosive temper, if what I saw earlier is any indication. And it seems he sees me as the cause of all his troubles.”
A curious expression crossed the witch’s face. “He came to that conclusion during your short visit?”
Dumbledore nodded, a look of remorse on his face. “Despite the emotional problems he has, Harry appears to be exceptionally bright and extremely sensitive to his environment. So, yes, he took my explanations and concluded my decisions caused the problems he has suffered.” He stared at the witch for a few seconds. “I can’t blame him for thinking that, I’m afraid. And you, my dear Minerva, can say ‘I told you so.’”
The witch grimaced. “I would never do that, Albus. I’d much prefer that I was entirely wrong this time. What shall we do?”
“I would like you to come with me, when I return to the Dursleys’ this evening. I spoke with Arthur and Molly after leaving Harry, and they immediately offered to take the boy in. I would appreciate you telling young Mr Potter of this change.”
Minerva arched an eyebrow. “You are not comfortable having that conversation with him?”
“I am quite sure Harry would not respond to me, other than negatively. Harry’s Uncle Vernon has made the boy distrustful of males. You stand a much better chance of developing some type of relationship with Harry at this point.”
“I’ll try. But do you think he’ll open up to anyone?”
The wizard shook his head. “Not to any normal extent. I’m hopeful your presence and efforts to help him won’t spark another episode of accidental magic, as mine undoubtedly would. I think it would be best if I talk with the Dursleys about these changes, while you talk with Harry. Be prepared for a hostile reception when we arrive. The house was overflowing with negative emotions.”
“How did this develop to such a serious level?”
“More mistakes on my part.” The wizard massaged his temples, before he continued speaking. “In retrospect, I should have called on Harry several times each year and assured the Dursleys that I would do so unannounced. Instead, I asked Arabella Figg, who lives nearby, to watch him. I spoke with her after leaving Harry today, and she apparently did not see anything worth reporting.” He sighed deeply. “Minerva, his bedroom is a cramped cupboard under the stairs, and they’ve installed locks on the outside of the door.”
Shock registered on her face. “Oh, dear Merlin.” She took a deep breath. “You couldn’t have known they would act this way. If your only mistake was to trust them, then you shouldn’t be too harsh on yourself.”
“Thank you, dear friend. But please reserve judgment until you see the poor boy tonight. You may want to hex me after that.”
That evening, the two professors Apparated just outside the wards protecting number four Privet Drive. The dusky mid-summer light still illuminated the neighbourhood, as they quickly made their way to the front porch and rang the doorbell.
Petunia wrenched the door open. “Get in here, quickly,” she hissed, while searching the street to see if anyone had seen these weirdly dressed strangers. Assuring herself that no one noticed their mysterious visitors, Petunia slammed the door shut. “I hope you will make this short and never return again.”
Minerva glanced at Dumbledore and arched an eyebrow.
“Mrs Dursley, may I present Professor Minerva McGonagall? Professor, this is Harry’s aunt, Petunia Dursley.”
Petunia looked in horror as the witch extended her hand. “Mrs Dursley and I met when I came to introduce her sister, Lily, to our world.” The witch briefly inclined her head toward their hostess.
A shouted command pierced the already tense atmosphere in the entryway. “Petunia, get rid of the people at the door, so we can start dinner.”
The conflict Petunia Dursley felt was immediately reflected on her face, as she tried to decide which was the lesser of two evils. Should she bring these two magical people into her kitchen or ignore her husband’s request? Finally, she decided his need for food outweighed any other consideration and led them into the dining room off the kitchen, where her husband and son were seated.
Harry stood at the stove, finishing the final preparations for the meal. His movements were fluid and economical, as he placed the entre and side dishes on three plates from pots and pans that were sitting on the stove top.
Minerva gasped when she first saw the short, slightly built boy. His dull eyes, sunken cheeks, and lifeless hair registered like blows to her body. He did not notice the witch’s reaction, because his eyes quickly found the Headmaster and immediately started blazing with an emotion that couldn’t have been anything other than hate.
Chaos erupted.
Vernon bellowed, “How dare you invade my house without a proper invitation!” He stood up and tried to appear menacing. “You will leave my house immediately!”
Dudley gawked at the visitors, his eyes moving from one to the other, trying to comprehend the appearance of these strangely dressed people. Then, he stared at Harry, a sneer on his face.
“They’re here because of you. Aren’t they, freak?”
Albus Dumbledore addressed the already overwhelmed Petunia. “Mrs Dursley, I must protest. Do you allow your son to refer to Harry in such terms?”
Petunia looked to Vernon for help. He shouted, “Get out of my house, you weirdoes. I won’t tolerate this a second longer.”
Dumbledore spoke to Vernon in deceptively mild tones. “We have many issues to discuss with you and your wife, so we won’t be leaving any time soon. I also would suggest that you behave more reasonably, as your nephew is close to exploding.” He turned to Professor McGonagall. “Minerva, would you please help Mr Potter?”
All eyes turned to Harry, as he stood with the last pork chop suspended on a fork over the third plate, his eyes narrowed, an intense heat flowing from his body.
McGonagall walked over to him. “This will help, Mr Potter. You won’t feel anything, other than a cooling feeling.” She cast the spell. “Is that better? Oh, I’m Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mr Potter.”
Her words barely registered, as the boy’s eyes flicked repeatedly from the Headmaster to his uncle, aunt, and cousin, before finally turning to look at the witch. He stared briefly, then placed the pork chop on the plate and took the three servings to the table, placing them in front of his three relatives.
McGonagall looked quizzically at the Headmaster and then turned to Harry. “Aren’t you going to join them?”
The boy looked down, embarrassed. His aunt looked at her husband, who blustered, “He’s already eaten. It’s none of your business.”
McGonagall noticed two slices of bread sitting on the counter. “Is that your dinner, Mr Potter?” she asked in a soft voice that contradicted the appalled expression on her face.
All the energy left the boy, as his body sagged against the kitchen counter. He nodded once, his eyes focused on the floor.
Out of the corner of her eye, McGonagall saw Harry’s uncle leap up from his chair. In the next split second, Dumbledore had stepped in front of him. “I would strongly suggest you sit down, Mr Dursley. You will not do anything to that boy.”
Dursley began sputtering. “You can’t tell me what to do in my own house. Besides, I was just getting the bread on the counter.” A smug look came over his face.
“Mr Dursley, our time here will move more quickly and much more easily if you understand you cannot possibly lie to me. Please do not insult my intelligence or that of my colleague. We would much prefer to work through this situation in a respectful manner. Are you willing to do that?”
Dursley sat down. “Let me finish my dinner. Then, we’ll talk.” He turned away from the wizard.
“Professor, this might be an opportune time to speak with our young Mr Potter.”
The witch looked at the boy. “Would you join me in the sitting room, Mr Potter?”
The boy hesitated initially, and then slowly followed the witch as she walked out of the dining area. As soon as they entered the sitting room, McGonagall conjured a place setting for Harry and a meal of pork chops, scalloped potatoes, and applesauce, accompanied by a large glass of chilled pumpkin juice. The boy’s eyes widened briefly, and then returned to their wary gaze.
“The food is perfectly edible, Mr Potter. It will not harm you.”
Harry stared at the witch for several seconds. Without a word, he sat down and began eating. McGonagall sat opposite him and conjured some Scottish shortbread cookies and began to nibble them.
The only response from the boy was when he lifted the glass of pumpkin juice, a puzzled look on his face.
“It’s pumpkin juice, Mr Potter. I think you’ll like it, most of our students do.”
He nodded and took several sips, putting the glass down, a neutral expression on his face.
“Do you not get much food here, Mr Potter?”
The boy’s head jerked up. His eyes clouded and he bowed his head, shaking it briefly to indicate ‘no,’ then he resumed eating. He had only finished about half of what was on his plate when he stopped, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and set his silverware down.
Professor McGonagall looked at him curiously. “You’re finished, Mr Potter?”
His affirmative nod was almost imperceptible.
“While Professor Dumbledore speaks with your relatives, I would like to talk with you. Is that acceptable, Mr Potter?”
He again nodded.
“Did Professor Dumbledore tell you about Hogwarts?” The boy shook his head. “Let me explain then. Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago . . .” and Professor McGonagall proceeded to discuss the four wizards and witches who started the school, the houses, the seven years of education, the courses offered, OWLs, NEWTs, and the castle and its grounds. The boy listened attentively, without one word, question or comment.
Finally, McGonagall stopped her discussion and smiled at the boy, though it was a rather tight-lipped smile. “Have I overwhelmed you with details, Mr Potter, or bored you with facts you don’t understand?”
The boy just shook his head and looked at the professor expectantly. She continued discussing Hogwarts for another fifteen minutes. Finally, Dumbledore entered the sitting room.
“How are you doing with our young student here, Professor?”
Harry, who had been leaning forward, focused on McGonagall’s description of the school, sat back and folded his arms across his chest, his eyes shifting between the two professors.
Dumbledore flicked his eyes briefly at McGonagall, then began speaking to Harry. “I’ve just explained to your relatives that we will be moving you. I’m sure you will enjoy staying with a magical family, the Weasleys, for the remainder of the summer . . .”
Dumbledore’s voice droned on, but the boy had stopped listening.
He’s done it again. He didn’t even ask me. God, why doesn’t he leave me alone? I hate him!
“Albus!” Minerva interrupted, sensing Harry’s growing frustration.
Harry’s normally soft green eyes had turned cold and were narrowed until they were nothing more than horizontal slits behind his round glasses, his fists were doubled up, the knuckles white from the pressure he was exerting, the room temperature had increased several degrees.
“Harry?” A woman’s soft voice caught his attention. “Please listen to me. You need to calm down. I’ll help you. Take deep breaths.” McGonagall cast a strong Calming Charm, followed by a Cooling Charm.
Harry took several deep breaths and looked at her, as if noticing she was sitting across from him for the first time. Then his eyes flicked back to the Headmaster.
He’s to blame for everything. Living with the Dursleys. The cupboard. No friends. These awful clothes. Everything!
Dumbledore and McGonagall exchanged glances. The wizard left the room, but two blazing green eyes followed him each step of the way.
McGonagall asked, “Mr Potter? Shall I tell you about the Weasley family?”
The boy’s eyes narrowed. “You and he,” he gestured sharply toward the dining room, “don’t care about me. You want to pawn me off on people I don’t know, just like when my parents died.” The fire in the boy’s continued unabated.
Minerva McGonagall studied the boy closely, while absently dabbing her forehead with a lace hankie she had pulled from a pocket. He’s able to speak on a much more sophisticated level than he did previously with either Albus or me. But he presents an almost mute personality most of the time. The boy seems to operate on two separate levels.
She spoke softly and slowly, trying to calm the boy. “I understand your feelings, Mr Potter. But I can assure you of several facts. We do care for you. We are not trying to ‘pawn you off’ as you say. You can trust the Weasleys. They are a wonderful family, very good people, who will treat you well and ease your entry into the wizarding world.”
The boy folded his arms across his chest as he stared at the witch, his eyes locked on hers. “Why should I believe you?”
Minerva McGonagall sighed. “There really is no reason why you should. We made mistakes, and I can only imagine how hard it has been for you to live here. Now that we are aware of your situation, we want to fix the errors we made. I hope you will accept our apology, Mr Potter, and let us move you to the Weasleys. It will be better for you there. I have no doubt.”
The boy continued to stare hard into her eyes.
I can’t stand this. Will those people treat me like my relatives have? Maybe I’m just bad, and everyone wants to punish me. Will the next family be even worse than the Dursleys? Dumbledore picked the Weasleys, but he’s the one who put me with the Dursleys. I probably won’t be able to trust them either.
The boy shrunk deep inside himself, his breathing laboured and shallow.
What did I do to be treated this way?
“Mr Potter?” the professor’s soft inquiry broke into Harry’s thoughts.
Adrenaline shot through the boy’s body. I can’t lose focus like that. They might do something to me if I’m not watching them.
“I don’t have any choice, do I?”
Minerva briefly closed her eyes at the coldness of his reply. “We always have choices, Mr Potter. I do think staying with the Weasleys will be an improvement for you.”
The boy stared at the witch with cold, hard eyes. “I guess it couldn’t be any worse than here.”
The professor squashed her initial impulse to address the boy’s sarcasm, instead taking a deep breath. “Would you like me to tell you about the members of their family?”
Harry unfolded his arms and nodded.
After Professor McGonagall finished her description of the family, she asked, “Do you have any questions, Mr Potter?”
Harry swiped his hand across his damp forehead. “Why didn’t I stay with them from the start?” They probably didn’t want me, and now Dumbledore is forcing them to take me.
The professor arched an eyebrow. “That is a good question, Mr Potter. The Headmaster thought you were in danger, so his decision was based on where you would be the most protected. That is here, where your aunt lives, since she is your closest living relative.”
A sour look swept over the boy’s face, so McGonagall added, “The Weasleys did want you to stay with them and were disappointed you were not able to do so.”
Harry felt a surge of heat erupting from inside him. Dumbledore again! I could have lived with a wizarding family from the start. What danger was I in? I was just a baby!
“Mr Potter?” the witch’s voice broke into his thoughts, and he felt the heat begin to dissipate. “Do you have any other questions?”
Harry shook his head, the sweat dripping down his back making him feel sticky and uncomfortable.
Professor McGonagall stood up and vanished the dinner dishes. “I am going to pack your clothes and belongings. Are they in the hallway cupboard?”
He nodded. After the professor left the sitting room, Harry thought about what he had learned from the witch, while trying to ignore a dull ache that pounded on the back of his head.
He would be living with the Weasley family, one he was supposed to have known in his other life, as he had begun thinking of his short time with his parents. He even had played with two of their kids, Ron and Ginny, though he didn’t remember anything about them. Ron was his age and would be going to Hogwarts. Ginny was a year younger. And the family was well known for having red hair. He began to feel a bit light-headed, so he took several deep breaths.
A surprising thought came to Harry, but he quickly dismissed it. They couldn’t be the two kids in my dreams. His hand instinctively moved to his stomach, and he began rubbing it to relieve the dull ache that had just developed. He shook his head and other thoughts claimed his attention.
I don’t know if I can do this. I’ve never lived with that many people before.
But McGonagall says I’ll learn about the wizarding world and magic.
Will they treat me like the Dursleys did? Will they think I’m a freak for living in the cupboard all my life and wearing these clothes?
Why would they want me to live with them? They don’t know me at all. I don’t know what they want from me.
I can’t stand feeling like this. At least here I know what to do. I won’t feel that way in the new place.
Professor McGonagall’s appearance in the sitting room brought a halt to Harry’s battering thoughts. He brushed away the moisture that had formed on his forehead, as he looked at the witch. A weird feeling developed, like electricity shooting through his body, especially his arms and his legs.
“Your belongings have been packed and sent to the Weasleys’ house.”
When a confused expression came over Harry’s face, the witch added, “There is a spell that instantly moves objects from one place to another. That is one of the many subjects you will be learning at Hogwarts.” A thin smile appeared, then just as quickly disappeared from the professor’s face.
Harry’s expression remained neutral. Why does she look blurry? A distant ringing could be heard in his head.
“Shall we join Professor Dumbledore?” McGonagall asked, when Harry didn’t respond.
Harry felt like he was frozen in place, since both his brain and his body refused to work. In the next second, the reality of what was going to happen overwhelmed him, and chills surged through his body.
I’m leaving the Dursleys? These strange people are taking me somewhere to stay with people I don’t know?
I’m an idiot! Why should I trust them? They could be working with the Dursleys to take me to that St Brutus school.
The boy began to shake, while sweat poured from every part of his body.
Minerva McGonagall had been watching the boy’s reaction with both sympathy and concern. “Mr Potter!”
She cast Cooling and Calming charms. As soon as the spells hit, Harry’s eyes widened in shock and his face turned chalk white. He staggered to his cupboard, closing the door behind him.
McGonagall stood in the sitting room, unsure what had come over the boy and what, if anything, she should do in response to his leaving. After several minutes, she decided it was best to see how the boy was doing. She walked down the hallway and paused for several moments. Finally opening the cupboard door, her heart shattered. Harry was curled in a foetal position on the far side of the cupboard, his small back facing the door. With a gasp, Minerva entered the cupboard and examined the apparently sleeping boy.
Oh Merlin, she thought, what have we done to this poor child?
“Albus! Come quickly.”
Chapter 8: The Girl And The Gift
Author's Notes: A nod to Sovran for the idea behind one of Harry’s responses during his first meal at his new home.
A bouquet of e-roses to cwarbeck for her brilliant beta work and so much more.
Please Note: In this chapter, we begin to see the ramifications of Harry's decade spent with the Dursleys but in a different environment.
Albus rushed from the kitchen and found his distraught colleague standing outside the cupboard. “What’s wrong, Minerva?”
“Harry has passed out. All of this has been too much for the poor boy.”
Albus grimaced, then quickly moved inside the cupboard, kneeled down, and ran his wand over the boy’s body. “Harry’s magical core appears to have overheated, and his body shut down to prevent any damage. Thankfully, he does not appear to be in any danger. But we should have Poppy do a thorough check-up once we get to The Burrow.”
The elderly wizard removed his half-moon glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I thought he would welcome going to the Weasleys. Apparently, I was once again wrong in my thinking.”
Minerva replied quietly, “He seemed to feel . . .” she paused to select the right words, “that he had no choice in the decision. I also think he was concerned about how he would be treated there.” She sighed. “Which is understandable, given his treatment here.”
Albus looked at his friend. “Are we in agreement that the best decision for Harry is to move him to The Burrow immediately?”
“Yes, I think it is,” the witch agreed. “He will receive much better care from the Weasleys. How should we get him there?”
Dumbledore pondered the question. “We can Floo from Arabella’s house. She lives just down the street. I don’t want to risk further complications by Apparating with Harry. You’ve taken care of his belongings?”
McGonagall nodded. “They’ve already been sent.” Her expression turned angry. “I guess we should advise his relatives that we are leaving.”
The two professors walked into the dining room. “Mr and Mrs Dursley,” Dumbledore said, “we are leaving now with Harry, as we discussed earlier. All of his possessions already have been moved. Given what has happened, this is most likely the best decision for all concerned. I hope you don’t mind that Harry is unable to say goodbye, since he is currently unconscious.”
Vernon turned a beady eye on the headmaster. “What makes you think we care? We never wanted the freak here. Good riddance to bad rubbish.”
Dumbledore sighed, while beside him, Minerva inhaled sharply in obvious disapproval. “I will tell Harry that I extended our thanks for all you have done for him over the years.” He and McGonagall started to exit the room, but Dumbledore paused as they reached the door. “The wards that have protected your house will fail sometime in the next year. Good luck, Mr and Mrs Dursley.”
Leaving the Dursleys staring dumbly after him, Dumbledore quickly returned to the cupboard and cast a Sleeping Spell on Harry. “I don’t want him to wake up prior to reaching the Weasleys.”
McGonagall nodded her understanding, and they left number four Privet Drive, with Albus carrying the small boy in his arms.
After a brief conversation with Mrs Figg, Minerva McGonagall and Albus Dumbledore, still carrying Harry Potter, stepped into the fireplace’s green flames. “The Burrow.”
The fireplace flamed at The Burrow, admitting the two professors and their still unconscious cargo into the barely contained chaos of the Weasleys’ house. Arthur and Molly wore similar dismayed expressions as the wizards stepped away from the hearth, while Ron and Ginny looked curiously at the boy still being held in the headmaster’s arms. Ginny felt her heart lurch at the sight of the pale, malnourished boy.
Molly immediately started to move towards the boy, but Arthur placed a restraining hand on her shoulder. Her look of irritation quickly changed to one of understanding as she remembered Albus’ warning that Harry was not used to being touched. She nodded to her husband and took a step back, so she was again standing next to him.
Ginny already was moving towards the staircase. “I’ll turn down the bed covers and pull out some pyjamas.”
Albus and Minerva followed the young girl up the stairs, followed by the other Weasleys.
“Albus, is Harry asleep?” whispered Molly.
“He’s had a rough day, Molly, so I thought it best to put Harry under a Sleeping Spell. This should carry him through the night. I’m sorry you and your family can’t meet him properly tonight. I hope you understand.”
Arthur replied quietly, “That’s not important, Albus. Harry’s health is the most important consideration. We’ll have plenty of time to get to know the lad.”
Minerva cleared her throat. “Arthur, Molly, may I place a Floo call to Madam Pomfrey from your fireplace?”
“Of course, Minerva,” Molly answered quickly. “The powder is on the mantel.”
While McGonagall spoke with the school nurse, the rest of the group went up to Bill’s old bedroom, and Dumbledore gently placed the boy on the bed. Ginny discretely left the room, pulling Ron by the arm, so Harry could be changed into the waiting pyjamas with at least a little bit of privacy.
After Madam Pomfrey had arrived, examined Harry, and pronounced him only in need of that night’s bed rest, they returned to the sitting room.
“If it meets your approval,” Albus said, looking from Arthur to Molly, “I’ll return first thing tomorrow morning to set the protective wards for the house and property.”
When Arthur looked uncomfortable, Albus added, “I want to do this for Harry, similar to what I did at his aunt’s house.”
Molly and Arthur exchanged glances. “Thank you, Albus,” Molly said.
The headmaster smiled. “If I may change the subject, there seem to be several members of your family missing.”
Arthur smiled in return. “Let’s just say the twins were encouraged to stay in their room. We thought their concept of friendliness could have been a bit too much for Harry.”
“And Percy rarely leaves his room. I think he’s already finished his summer homework,” Molly added with a touch of motherly pride. “May I get you and Minerva some tea?”
Minerva looked at her colleague, and then turned to Molly. “We should return to Hogwarts, I’m afraid. It’s been a rather long and intense day.”
After an exchange of goodbyes and promises to return the next day, the professors Floo’d back to their school.
Harry felt an all-encompassing fog surrounding him, rendering his senses non-existent. He couldn’t see, hear, or feel anything, except for a numbness that seemed to pervade every part of him. Fevered dreams raged, though they were more like unconnected, frightening images and searing emotions — loneliness, fear, frustration, and anger — than regular dreams.
Finally, Harry found himself on the ground, walking through a tunnel towards a beautiful, warm, golden light. The boy felt safe for the first time he could remember, a smile lighting his face, as he quickened his pace. He could feel his body relaxing, becoming free and buoyant. All his worries melted away, replaced by a feeling of peace. Just before reaching the source of the light, two people emerged from the shadows and stood in front of him.
A man and a woman, adults, but just barely, younger than any of his teachers, looked at him in a way he had never seen before, yet it felt warm and welcoming. The man had black, messy hair and wore glasses, while the woman’s dark red hair fell freely past her shoulders. They looked very worried.
The boy felt confused, wondering why they seemed vaguely familiar. Then, he remembered. They had been in his dreams before and had talked with him, but he had never seen them this clearly before, though they still didn’t look as solid as real people.
“Harry?”
He heard his name in his head, not through his ears. How did he know my name? the boy wondered.
“It’s not your time yet. You shouldn’t go to the light. You need to turn back.”
Harry stared at the man. Why wouldn’t he want me to go to the light? It was so peaceful.
Then the boy looked behind him. The tunnel in that direction was so black and desolate it sent chills through his body.
“I don’t want to go back there.”
The woman spoke. “You have many things left to do in your life, dear. You need to trust us, Harry.”
“It’s been so hard. I barely make it from day to day.”
“We know,” the man said softly, anguish filling his voice. “We’re so sorry. It hasn’t turned out the way we hoped. But Harry, you’re not to blame. Your relatives are.”
“You must believe that. You’re a very good person. You’ve been treated so horribly.” The woman reached out her hand to squeeze the boy’s shoulder, then quickly pulled it back.
“You know we can’t do that,” the man whispered to the woman. She nodded her head, a sad expression subduing the light from her emerald eyes.
The man turned to Harry. “You will soon meet people who will be far different than you’ve been used to. They won’t hurt you. They can help you, if you let them. You’ve got to trust them.”
Harry looked over his shoulder again. The tunnel was still dark, but it didn’t feel quite as threatening as before. When he turned back, the man and woman had disappeared, leaving him alone once again. The dream seemingly faded, and with it, the words from the two adults.
Harry remained unconscious through his Floo trip, arrival at The Burrow, being taken upstairs, put into Bill’s old bed, and the examination by Madam Pomfrey.
He awoke around two in the morning and was greeted by a feeling that all of his senses were muffled. Everything about him, including his brain, felt fuzzy and slow-moving. He was used to his vision being blurred when he woke up, because he never slept with his glasses on. But having his other senses similarly dulled sent a chill down his spine. He reached where his glasses normally would be, but his hand collided with the headstand of the bed.
The boy sat up quickly and regretted his action immediately. With the adrenaline surge of the fight or flight response, the dulling peace of the Sleeping Spell was obliterated.
“Ooohhh,” the boy gasped.
Where am I? How did I get like this? I feel like my body doesn’t work.
When Harry realized he was in a bed — not on his usual mattress — and in a much larger room, he looked around frantically. The situation quickly went from confusing to threatening. A blurred figure moved through the murky darkness towards him. The boy instinctively looked around for anything he could use to defend himself. The lack of light and his poor vision made that task impossible.
“Who’s th . . . there?” he demanded, scooting closer to the wall.
“Harry?” a small, feminine voice asked hesitantly. “It’s Ginny . . . uh . . . Ginny Weasley? Here are your glasses.”
She held them out, desperately trying to keep her hand from shaking. Harry narrowed his eyes, trying to see more clearly, trying to learn if this was a trap. In a split second, his hand darted out, grabbed the glasses, and shoved them on his face. The girl jumped at his unexpectedly fast action, and she moved several steps away from the bed.
With his glasses on, the confusing interplay between the filtered moonlight and resulting shadows became clearer. Harry’s first reaction was surprise that the girl was even smaller than he was and nothing about her felt threatening. Still he continued to look at her with complete distrust.
I need to find an escape route if she decides to do anything. Moisture dripped down his back, causing the pyjama top to stick to him. His eyes swept the room again. The bed’s in a corner of the room, so it will be easier for her to trap me. Oh, man, my head really hurts. I wish this pounding would stop. He took a few deep breaths to try to calm his raging nerves.
Harry turned his attention to the small red-haired girl standing next to the bed, studying her carefully.
I don’t feel anything negative coming from her. But she may just be trying to trick me.
Ginny had been staring at Harry, startled by his response to her presence. She cast her eyes down to the threadbare rug on the floor by the bed. “I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have come in.” Her eyes flicked upward to see if her comment would draw any response. Harry’s darting eyes convinced her there would be none. “I just didn’t like the idea that you were alone . . .”
As Harry continued to listen to Ginny talk, a feeling of shock washed over him. She looks like Sammi! He brushed away the sweat that had formed on his forehead. Can I trust her? Or will she lie to me like Sammi did? His stomach plunged, leaving an empty, gnawing hole.
A million thoughts swirled through Harry’s mind. He closed his eyes to try to get some relief from their battering presence. A vague recollection came to him.
I need to trust the new people who come into my life. Who said that? Was it that dream? Is she the person I should trust? I can’t do that! Think of what Miss Rae and Sammi did! The boy felt like a knife stabbed into his heart. What am I supposed to do?
He stared intently at the young girl, who had stopped talking and was now looking at him, confusion evident on her face.
I don’t feel anything like I do with Dudley and his mates. I’ve not felt anything like this before. She’s smaller than me, looks younger, too . . . there’s something else about her. He shook his head, trying to focus more clearly. I don’t know what it is. It’s just different.
Ginny hesitantly took a few steps towards a dresser that stood next to the wall across from the bed. Harry immediately tensed up and decided he would escape by moving along the wall towards the end of the bed. From there, he had an open path to the door.
His forehead furrowed when he saw a package in her hands and a small, hesitant smile on her face. She moved slowly back to the bed where Harry sat, his body still tense, his eyes again boring into the young girl.
She held the gift out. “Happy Birthday, Harry.”
Waves of shock swept through the boy’s body. What is she up to? Is this some kind of joke, and everyone else is going to jump out and start laughing at me?
Harry finally realized the girl was waiting for a response. He briefly closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and asked, “What is . . . this?”
“It’s a birthday present. I’m sorry it’s a little late,” she hesitated, “but you were unconscious when you got here so I couldn’t give it to you.” She slowly moved the brightly wrapped box, covered in red and gold paper, with a gold ribbon towards Harry.
The startled boy watched her closely. I feel something from her . . . no idea what it is, though. But it’s not negative. It’s a warm feeling . . . She’s smaller than me . . . she’s not threatening or fake . . . if she runs when I take it from her, I’ll throw it across the room . . . I won’t trust her, besides I’ll be gone soon and won’t see her again.
His breath felt like icicles, making his chest throb with a dull ache. Harry slowly reached out and took the gift in his hands, his eyes flicking repeatedly between the girl and the gift. Ginny watched him curiously, her head tilted to the side. He finally lifted his eyes and stared into hers, relieved she hadn’t run away or started laughing at him.
“F . . . first time.” His voice cracked.
Ginny’s head moved forward involuntarily and her brain started racing. First time? . . . Oh, no. This is his first present?
Ginny’s heart lurched. She leaned forward to hug him but stopped abruptly about halfway to the boy, as he quickly moved back in the bed, his eyes alert and darting around the room. I can’t. Mum said he doesn’t like being touched. She returned to her previous position.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. Then, she straightened up and looked directly into his emerald eyes. “Well, I’m glad I could be the one to give you your first birthday present.” She smiled. “So, open it!”
Hesitantly, suspiciously, with eyes darting from the present to the girl to the bedroom door, in case someone would burst in, Harry unwrapped the gift.
He froze, unable to tear his eyes away. It was the best present; it was the worst present. He loved it and hated it. His body felt like it was being ripped in ten different directions.
How did she know? Has she talked with Sammi or Miss Rae? Why would she do this to me? I can’t believe I fell for this.
Harry roughly, angrily ran his hand over his forehead and the back of his neck, trying to blot up the moisture that had formed the instant he opened the gift. Ginny had taken several steps back, when Harry glared at her as if she had just done the worst thing she could possibly do to him. His eyes had moved from questioning to cold the second the wrapping paper had been removed. She quivered with disappointment, but even more so, with concern over Harry’s reaction. Why would he react that way? Her eyes narrowed in thought. Why did it get so warm in here?
She looked again at Harry. Her disappointment, her concern over the gift she’d spent so much time selecting, abruptly turned to fear. Heat was literally rolling off his body. She knew she had to do something or this could go badly wrong. She gulped in several lungfuls of air to help brace herself.
“Harry? I’m sorry, but I don’t know what I did.” Even though she felt like fleeing, Ginny held her head up and looked directly into Harry’s eyes.
They were blazing.
The mix of emotions startled Ginny — pure anger was the most obvious, but his eyes also contained shock, hurt, and disappointment. The latter three hurt Ginny the most.
A different voice emerged when Harry finally spoke, and he somehow seemed to grow in size. “Did you do this intentionally? Did you talk with them? How else could you pick the gift that would hurt me the most?”
Harry gritted his teeth, trying to push back each and every emotion that was raging through him. I’m not going to explode. They’ll kick me out if I do. I could hurt their daughter or their house.
I won’t have any place to go. I’ll end up in an orphanage. No one will want me.
His breath became ragged, shallow, erratic, as he fought for control. Finally, the heat dissipated, his thoughts calmed down, and his breathing became more regular. He looked at Ginny and immediately felt overwhelming concern.
She stood rooted to the floor, her eyes wide and unblinking, her face reflecting hurt, and much worse, fear.
His eyes immediately shifted downward to the bedspread. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You couldn’t have known.”
Finally the shock faded, and Ginny realized what he had said. “Couldn’t have known what, Harry?” Her voice was soft and quiet and laced with concern.
He sighed and the words returned. ‘You need to trust.’ Harry thought, but who do I trust? How will I know? Who told me I should?
“I’ll t . . . tell you.”
“Thank you. May I sit here?” she pointed to the foot of the bed.
He stared at the small girl for a few seconds, and then nodded his head. While she seated herself, Harry slid to the top of the bed with his back against the headboard.
He told Ginny the story of Miss Rae and Sammi, despite feeling like each word he spoke had stabbed him in the heart. He ended with, “I n . . . never heard from either of th . . . them.” He shrunk deep inside himself. “I don’t want to f . . . feel like that again.”
Harry looked up at Ginny through his cloudy eyes to see tears streaming down her cheeks. On her face was a look of outrage and sorrow that he doubted he would ever forget. “You l . . . look like S . . S . . Sammi,” he whispered.
Ginny gasped and felt like her insides had been yanked out. Her hands flew to her face, trying to stem the increased flood of tears. I got him the worst gift possible. All of those horrible memories are back because of me. I can’t believe I look like the girl who hurt him so badly.
“Ginny?” She looked up and saw a very blurry Harry Potter. “You d . . . didn’t know.”
She cried even harder. He’s thinking of me. I’ve done this to him, and he’s thinking of me.
The two sparkling children looked at each other, one comfortable crying and showing her emotions, the other desperately holding everything back.
“S’okay, Gin. I haven’t r . . . read this one.” Harry took a deep breath and smiled at her. It was a small smile and lopsided, but a smile, nonetheless. “Th . . . thank you.”
Harry Potter was rewarded with the first full smile in more than six years that was meant just for him.
Harry woke up with a start when the sun’s rays streaming through the uncovered window moved across his new bedroom and finally shone brightly on his unsuspecting face.
He jerked upright into a sitting position, and with eyes squinting against the invasive brightness, searched to see whether it was his aunt or uncle who had thrown open his cupboard door.
I must have overslept.
They’ll kill me for not having breakfast ready.
He searched for his jeans, which he usually left folded at the end of his mattress. But he wasn’t on his mattress. He looked quickly around the room.
Where am I?
This isn’t Dudley’s second bedroom. It’s huge — at least five or six times bigger than the cupboard.
Is this St Brutus?
The boy’s breathing increased rapidly until his head felt so light it could float away.
Stop it!
Think. Where was I yesterday?
Dumbledore!
I was at the Dursleys. He came over with that witch, McGonagall. I don’t remember anything else.
Except . . .
Sammi?
He felt a jolt in his chest, and his stomach turned queasy.
It couldn’t have been her. I must have dreamed.
He turned to get out of bed.
A book . . . sitting on a small table by the bed.
It wasn’t a dream.
There was a red-haired, freckled girl my age. But it wasn’t Sammi.
The boy closed his eyes and tried to remember. Long moments passed . . .
Ginny! Ginny . . . uh . . . Weasley. That’s it. She gave me the book.
She’s just like Sammi. How she looks. How she acts. Even their smiles.
A jolt of electricity surged down his spine.
I can’t trust her either. She could do what Sammi did.
I have to watch her.
Harry found an old robe hanging in the wardrobe, visited the loo, and went downstairs. The queasiness in his stomach increased with each step he traversed, since he had no idea what or who he would find down there. As soon as he turned the corner from the staircase to the kitchen, he stopped dead in his tracks.
Nine pairs of eyes turned as one to stare at him.
Harry’s eyes widened first in surprise, then in fear. He quickly scanned the kitchen area, then the room behind him. Good. If anyone comes after me, I can run this other way.
“Good morning, Harry.” Professor Dumbledore’s sky blue eyes twinkled at him above a welcoming smile. “I trust you slept well last night.”
Harry felt his eyes instinctively narrowing. What’s he doing here?
“Mr Potter.” The Scottish burr of Professor McGonagall interrupted his thoughts.
He turned and nodded at her. Then, his eyes fell on . . .
Sammi?
Ginny?
The girl smiled, quickly looked around, and then stuck her tongue out at him. By the time he had blinked in amazement, her smile had returned, followed by a forkful of scrambled eggs disappearing into her mouth.
Harry stared at the people at the table. He recalled McGonagall saying all of the Weasleys had red hair. With the exception of the two professors, everyone at the table had red hair.
Maybe I am at the Weasleys and this isn’t a joke. Maybe the girl is Ginny and not Sammi.
The man he assumed was Mr Weasley cleared his throat. “It’s nice to meet you again, Harry.”
“Hello, dear,” Mrs Weasley said. “I understand you’ve been told we knew you when you were a baby.” She stopped abruptly, thinking her comment could have caused him to think of his parents.
Thankfully, the youngest-looking boy jumped in. “I don’t imagine you remember us playing together any more than I do. Oh, I’m Ron.” He turned his attention back to the heaping plate of food in front of him.
“And I was just a few months old,” added Ginny, who then blushed a violent scarlet colour and stared at the table top.
Harry could feel eyes staring at him again, almost demanding that he say something. For some reason, Harry focused on Ginny. He took a deep breath.
“I . . . I don’t re . . . remember, either,” he managed to say timidly, and everyone smiled, except for what looked to be the oldest boy, who just nodded and returned to the book he had been reading.
Harry stared at the crowded dining table, unable to move from where he was standing. The only time he had eaten with that many people was at lunch at his school. Memories flashed through his mind.
No one would sit by him. He would sit at the far end of the table assigned to his class, and there would always be at least a five foot separation between him and the next student. Dudley and his mates would ensure that. He remembered a new kid who joined his third grade class mid-year, who had sat with him at lunch that first day. The next day, the boy limped into class, with a swollen lower lip, and the whispered comment, ‘I can’t talk with you anymore.’
Milk being poured into his lunch sack before he’d taken anything out.
His lunch bag grabbed from his hand as he walked towards class in the morning.
Insults, threats, coarse jokes.
And teachers not paying attention to any of this.
Besides, Harry thought, I didn’t make the breakfast, so I won’t be able to eat anything. He turned to go back upstairs to dress.
“Harry,” called out a soft, maternal voice. “Come join us. I’ll put together a plate for you.”
He turned to see Mrs Weasley get up from the table and move over to the stove. Ginny subtly moved to one side, creating enough space for him to sit down.
Harry closed his eyes. I can do this. I have to do this. Just look at Ginny.
He did, and with one foot following the other, Harry willed his body over to the table and sat down next to the young girl.
“Harry.” The word seemed to reverberate in his head. He looked at Mr Weasley, who smiled at him. “Across from you is Fred and to his left is George. They are two years older than you and Ron.”
Fred extended his hand, but before it was half way across the table, Harry had jumped up and taken several steps back from the bench, prepared to run if anyone moved towards him.
A collective gasp came from the people at the table.
Fred pulled his hand back and quickly looked at his father. As Harry looked around the table, only Dumbledore and McGonagall were looking at him. Both had sad expressions on their faces. The rest were looking at their food.
Before Mr Weasley could respond, Ginny spoke softly. “It’s okay, Harry. Fred just wanted to shake hands. You know, to welcome you. Please sit down.”
I can’t stand this. I don’t want to be here. They’re all staring at me.
I am a freak. I can’t even eat a meal without causing problems.
“Please?”
The plaintive tone of Ginny’s request broke through Harry’s thoughts.
Fred looked at him and mouthed, ‘I’m sorry,’ and nodded.
Harry took a shuddering breath and forced his body to sit down. He could feel the electricity surrounding the table — a feeling he knew he had caused.
Everyone’s uncomfortable because of me.
This is going to be so hard.
“Here you go, Harry.”
As Mrs Weasley set the plate in front of him, Harry’s eyes widened. It contained a mound of scrambled eggs as big as two of his fists, five sausages, hash browns that covered the rest of the plate, a tall glass of some funny-coloured juice, and a stack of toast as high as his forearm.
That’s as much as I’d eat in a month at the Dursleys.
Mrs Weasley smiled. “Tuck in, Harry.”
“Th . . . thank you, Mrs Weasley.”
“You’re quite welcome, dear.”
The mood around the table relaxed a bit as Harry began to eat, and conversation started up. After he had been eating for several minutes, he felt someone watching him. Looking around the table, without raising his head, Harry saw the oldest boy staring at him, a curious, almost sceptical expression on his face.
The boy cleared his throat, so Harry turned his head slightly in his direction.
“I’m Percy Weasley. I’ll be in my fifth year at Hogwarts. Welcome.” He nodded stiffly and left the table.
As soon as he reached the stairs, Ron and the twins exploded in laughter. A few seconds later, Harry heard a series of squeaks, hisses, and other noises. He looked over, and Ginny was rapidly turning red, while losing the battle to stop herself from laughing out loud. Finally, she gave in and joined her brothers.
George straightened his back and stiffened his upper lip. “How absolutely spiffing to meet you, Mr Potter. Would you fancy a spot of polo?”
Fred assumed the same pose and tone of voice. “Do you want one lump or two in your polo, kind sir?”
“And he’s not horsing around,” finished George.
By that time, Ron and Ginny were laughing out loud, Mr Weasley was trying unsuccessfully to hide a grin, Mrs Weasley looked exasperated, Dumbledore’s eyes were twinkling, and if you looked closely, Professor McGonagall’s lips curved upward for a few seconds before returning to their usual straight line.
Harry looked around the table, thinking how different it was from the Dursleys.
After a few minutes, Dumbledore announced, “Professor McGonagall and I should start our work on the wards.”
Harry’s head snapped up. He said I was at the Dursleys’ because it was the only place he could do blood wards.
Harry listened carefully as Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Mr and Mrs Weasley walked towards the back door.
“Since both the Prewett and Weasley families are connected to the Potters, I can create sets of blood wards, if you’ll donate a few drops of blood . . .”
The remainder of the conversation was muffled by the door closing behind the four adults.
I could have stayed here all my life.
The Weasleys said they wanted me to live here, after . . .
I didn’t have to live with the Dursleys.
Dumbledore!
Harry became aware of noises around him, then something like distant thumps. He wiped his damp hands on his napkin, and then used it to dry off his forehead. I wonder if Mrs Weasley forgot to turn off the stove.
“Harry!”
His attention snapped back, and a split second later he saw the plates, containers, and silverware on the table stop vibrating.
He looked around the table. Ron, the twins, and Ginny all were staring at him. His gaze remained on Ginny.
“Dum . . . Dumbledore said I had to live at the Dur . . . Dursleys, because th . . . that’s the only pl . . . place he could do bl . . . blood wards.”
Four sets of eyes widened in shock.
Chapter 9: The Burrow
Author's Notes: 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.
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.
Pulling 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.
Molly 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.”
Prior 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.
Chapter 10: Trial By Shopping
Author's Notes: Continued thanks and much appreciation to those readers who nominated and/or voted for the story for the DSTAs.
My brilliant beta, cwarbeck, added another facet to the many ways she makes this story better. This time she became an advocate for you, the esteemed readers of this fan fic. Cel insisted that I not leave you hanging at the end of the chapter and literally told me what to write. (So, if you don't like the ending, you'll know who to blame -- not mentioning any names, of course!)
Please Note: This chapter continues Harry's introduction into the wizarding world, and, on a more general level, his struggles to overcome the years he spent with the Dursleys.
Lying in bed that night, Harry’s eyes darted around the bedroom — his bedroom. They finally focused on the streaks of moonlight that spilled through the window and created an illuminated path on the floor.
My cupboard was pitch black after the Dursleys turned off the lights and went to bed. It always felt like the walls moved in when it was dark. This room is so open.
His eyes stopped briefly on the desk, the bookcase, and finally the wardrobe.
Now, there’re places for everything. I don’t have to hide my books. I can hang my clothes up and not worry if spiders got in them.
Why are the Weasleys doing this for me? What do they want from me?
It doesn’t make any sense.
His eyes returned to the moonlit path.
I have to learn a lot of things, especially magic. They’ve lived with it all their lives. I don’t even know what to do, or what magical life is about.
I can’t be like I am and learn all this stuff.
Harry closed his eyes, trying to stifle a shudder. One experience after another scrolled through his mind.
His school work for Miss Rae, and his aunt and uncle’s reaction to it . . .
The materials in his Open House folder in first grade, which made his relatives angry because he had made Dudley look bad . . .
The outstanding results on the national tests in fifth grade, the meeting with Aunt, Uncle, and his teacher, and the punishment when they got home . . .
His love of reading that they never knew about . . .
Writing two papers for each assignment and turning in the lesser of the two, missing questions in class and on tests — all so he wouldn’t make his cousin look bad; all to keep his aunt and uncle from getting mad at him . . .
I held back because of the Dursleys.
I like learning new stuff. There’ll be lots of new things at Hogwarts.
He frowned.
Will someone get upset if I do well, if I don’t hold back? Dumbledore and McGonagall wouldn’t tell the Dursleys. My relatives called them freaks and weirdoes. Besides, Dudley won’t be going there, so I wouldn’t be doing better than him.
I’ll have to check with Ginny to see if her brothers or parents would be upset if I did well in school. I think she’d tell me the truth. She showed me the pond.
The image of another red haired, freckle-faced girl crossed his mind.
Sometimes I wish I’d never met Sammi or Miss Rae. Maybe I shouldn’t ask Ginny. Maybe she’s just like them. They were nice ‘til they left. Ginny could do the same thing when we go to school. Say she’d do something, then not do it. I don’t want to go through that again.
Harry’s thoughts were wrenched back to the early months of pre-school.
“Hi, I’m Samantha.” A wide smile and sparkling green eyes accompanied her greeting.
“Leave him alone. You’re being rude.” Her eyes were blazing and fearless as she yelled at Dudley and his mates.
“Where do you live? We can walk home together.”
“Isn’t this fun?” Sammi’s enthusiasm was contagious, and Harry felt himself smiling. “I love the special reading lessons Miss Rae gives us.”
“I happened to find an interesting book at the library this weekend, Mr Potter.” His teacher with the curly black hair smiled at him. “I thought you might like to read some more about King Arthur and Camelot.”
“You do not ask personal questions of your classmates!” Miss Rae’s dark eyes flashed with anger at Dudley and the two other boys.
“I won’t be returning after the Christmas Holidays . . .”
“We’re moving, Harry.”
“Thank you for being my best friend, Harry.”
“Mr Potter, you are special.”
An overwhelming feeling blazed though the boy. I want to feel that way again, Harry Potter thought, before sleep claimed him.
When Harry woke up the next morning, his first thought was to write down all of the changes he wanted to make. He got up, made his bed, and looked through the desk for a pencil and paper.
That’s funny. I don’t see anything to write with. What’s this feather thing?
He pulled out a scrap of . . . What is this? It’s not paper.
He shook his head and started scratching the end of the feather on the thick, yellowy kind of paper . . . Nothing happened. He looked at the tip.
I can’t see any lead at the end, and there’s nothing to click like on a biro or a top to pull off. I’ll ask Ginny or Mr or Mrs Weasley if they have a pencil and regular paper.
The boy pulled his robe on and quietly left the room, making sure to skip the squeaky third step so as not to wake Ginny.
Voices floated up the stairwell, causing Harry to stop halfway down.
“I wish Ginny’s birthday didn’t come right before school started,” Mrs Weasley said. “With the tuition, books, robes, and supplies we need to pay for each year, I worry that we short-change her sometimes.”
Mr Weasley replied in a soft, warm voice. “We always find a way, Molly, and I don’t recall Ginny ever complaining.” He sighed. “A week from Saturday our little girl will turn ten. It hardly seems that long.”
The paper and pencil questions forgotten, Harry quietly returned to his room, embarrassed that he had heard Mr and Mrs Weasley discussing their finances and worried that he now had to buy a gift for Ginny. I was going to ask if Ginny could come with us, but that wouldn’t work if I have to buy her a present. It would’ve helped to have her there.
When he reached his room, a new thought blasted him like a bolt of electricity.
I have to go to Diagon Alley today with Professor McGonagall.
The boy felt frozen to the spot, yet he could feel sweat dripping down his forehead, neck, and back.
I don’t know her. I won’t know what to do. There’ll be lots of people I don’t know.
His stomach lurched, and he raced into the loo.
Oh, God. I don’t think I can do this. Everything’s changing. I won’t know what to buy.
It’s where the magical people shop, but I don’t know anything about magic.
The next thought caused Harry’s head to throb.
I don’t have any money. How can I buy anything?
I can’t do this.
Finally, he was finished. After scrubbing his hands, Harry descended the stairs for the second time, making sure he made some noise as he reached the last few steps.
I have to tell them I can’t do this. Professor McGonagall is going to be furious. I bet Mr and Mrs Weasley will be disappointed with me.
When he turned the corner into the kitchen, two warm smiles greeted the startled boy. The air he sucked in slammed against the back of his throat. Steeling himself, he walked to what looked like the pantry and searched for some cereal.
“Good morning, Harry,” greeted Mrs Weasley, then the import of Harry’s actions came to her. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. I already have breakfast prepared. Just take a seat, and I’ll bring it over.”
Harry looked at her in confusion but complied with her request and sat at the far end of the table from Mr Weasley. They don’t want me to make my own meals?
Mr Weasley smiled. “Hi, Harry. Sleep well?”
He wanted to answer the question, but no matter how hard he forced the words, nothing would come out. He took a deep breath and nodded several times.
Mrs Weasley placed a plate of fried eggs, sausages, and fried potatoes, and a glass of juice in front of him. “Professor McGonagall is taking you to Diagon Alley today, isn’t she?”
The boy’s expression mixed anticipation with fear and reluctance. “N . . . never shopped before.”
Both adults turned sharply towards him.
Molly stopped just before she laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The boy didn’t notice her action, because his head had slumped towards his chest. His slender body appeared to shrink in front of their eyes.
“I ca . . . can’t do it.”
His eyes closed. Molly sat in the chair next to Harry but made sure she kept some space between them.
“Harry,” she asked softly. “Why can’t you go?” She could hear his ragged breathing.
A million answers swirled through Harry’s mind.
Money.
Magic.
McGonagall.
People.
He opened his eyes. He knew the answer. He glanced briefly at Mrs Weasley’s face.
“I’m afraid.”
Arthur had moved beside Molly when she began speaking to the boy. The instant Harry answered her question Arthur put his arm around her shoulders.
Molly inhaled sharply. Her hands fumbled in her lap, as if they didn’t know what to do. Arthur squeezed his wife’s shoulder. She looked up and nodded, giving him a closed mouth smile.
“Everything is different, isn’t it?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
Harry nodded his head, not looking up.
“It’s okay to be afraid,” Mr Weasley said in his calm, quiet voice. “Doing things you’ve never done before, going to places you’ve never seen, they can be scary. Is that what you’re feeling?”
He nodded his head, closed his eyes again, and took a deep shuddering breath. “No mo . . . money.”
Molly and Arthur exchanged a glance that Harry didn’t see.
“Lad, I don’t think you need to be concerned about money for your school purchases,” Mr Weasley said. “Professor McGonagall or Professor Dumbledore should be able to tell you more. Professor McGonagall knows exactly what you need to purchase and where to buy them. She’ll be right there with you. You won’t be alone.”
What? I have money? Where? Why didn’t I know this before?
Molly asked gently, “Is anything else bothering you, Harry?”
She watched him for several long moments, waiting for a response. Finally, he nodded his head.
“Don’t know ma . . . ma . . . magic,” Harry whispered.
“And you feel uncomfortable, because you’ll be surrounded by people who know lots of magic.”
“Uh huh.”
“Harry, there are other children your age who will be going to Hogwarts for the first time this September,” Mrs Weasley explained. “Like you, they just learned they are magical, so they’ve never been around witches and wizards before. It will be different, because none of you have seen anything like the wizarding world. But at Hogwarts you’ll learn all about magic and our world. You’ll find that you will become comfortable very quickly.”
Harry closed his eyes again, knowing Mr and Mrs Weasley were watching him. He could feel the room closing in on him. I can’t tell them. They’ll think I’m a freak.
Mr Weasley’s soft voice stopped his thoughts. “There’s something else bothering you, isn’t there, lad?”
Harry’s head snapped up, his eyes wide, searching the wizard’s face. He nodded.
“You’re scared of going someplace new that has lots of people you don’t know. Is that right?” Mr Weasley asked.
The boy deflated. His answer was less than a whisper. “I’m s . . . s . . . sorry.”
Mr Weasley’s words felt like a calm breeze. “There’s nothing to apologize for, Harry. This is all new to you, so it makes sense you would be worried and uncomfortable. All of us are here to help you.”
Harry’s head jerked up. Ginny said the same thing. An intense ache rose from his stomach and lodged in his chest. I want to, but I just can’t believe them.
Mrs Weasley asked, “Will you think about going with Professor McGonagall?”
I’ve got to try. I need to get this school stuff. Maybe they won’t let me in school if I don’t. Plus, there’s Ginny’s birthday. I’ve got to get something for her.
He nodded his head.
“Good boy!” Mrs Weasley smiled.
“That’s the lad,” enthused Mr Weasley. “Now, what time is the professor arriving here?”
Harry looked up. “N . . . nine.”
Mrs Weasley smiled. “You have plenty of time, but once you’ve finished breakfast make sure you brush your teeth and shower. Okay?”
“’Kay.”
Mr Weasley pushed his chair back. A look of sadness quickly crossed his face when he saw Harry flinch.
“Time for me to go to work.” He paused for several moments. “Harry, I know you don’t like to be touched.”
The boy’s eyes immediately turned wary, and he shifted away from the wizard.
“I’m not going to touch you, but would you try something with me?”
Harry stared at the man, his eyes narrowed. All of his instincts were screaming at him to run from the room and whatever this man intended.
Arthur sighed quietly. “Harry, I’m going to put my hand on the table down here.”
He moved to the far end from Harry and placed his left hand on the table palm up. “Before you leave with Professor McGonagall, I’d like you to place your hand here but like this.” He flipped his hand over so the palm faced down. “And think of me squeezing your hand. I’ll be with you like that all day. If things get uncomfortable at any time today, ask Professor McGonagall to contact me. She’ll know how. And I’ll get there as quickly as I can. That’s my promise, son. Okay?” He glanced at Molly and she nodded.
Harry stared in disbelief, trying to ignore the feelings inside him that moved continuously from hard and cold to light and warm. Why would he do that? He doesn’t know me. I just don’t understand this.
Then a single word stopped all other thoughts.
Son?
No one’s ever called me that before.
He looked at the man and nodded his head.
Arthur smiled. “I will always be here to help you, Harry, never to hurt.”
Their eyes locked for a brief moment, then the wizard walked over to his wife and kissed her on the cheek. With a smile and a wave, Arthur Weasley walked into the sitting room and left for work.
Harry got up a minute later, took his plate, glass, and utensils to the sink and began to wash them, since he hadn’t seen a dishwasher in the kitchen.
“Harry, dear, you don’t have to do that.” Molly’s heart constricted at the confused, almost suspicious, expression on Harry’s face. “You go get ready for your outing. I’ll take care of this.”
As Harry moved from the sink, he watched as Mrs Weasley began washing the dishes. He slowed down as he passed the end of the table where Mr Weasley had rested his hand. He hesitantly extended his hand, ready to pull it back at the first sign that something was amiss. When his hand reached the spot where Mr Weasley’s hand had been, he held it there — palm down — for a few moments, his eyes darting around the room. Finally, he allowed his eyes to close, trying to imagine what it felt like to have someone hold his hand and the warmth it would generate.
Breathing deeply, he moved his hand away from the table, acting like he hadn’t even stopped there. Walking up the stairs, the boy thought about Mr Weasley’s promise to him. I don’t understand why he would want to help. It doesn’t make any sense.
After brushing his teeth, showering quickly, and dressing, Harry sat at the desk in his bedroom, trying to stop his body from shaking. The confused feelings about Mr Weasley and his offer had been replaced by the reality of his trip with Professor McGonagall.
Why did I think I could do this?
Harry’s mind and body froze the instant he heard Mrs Weasley’s voice announcing the arrival of Professor McGonagall. His mind locked on one thought, I can’t do this, and his body seemed incapable of moving from the chair in front of the desk.
Suddenly, the image of Mr Weasley forced its way into his thoughts. His hand was extended towards Harry. A feeling of warmth flowed through the boy, and he moved forward to grasp the man’s hand. Their hands never met. Mr Weasley leaned forward when Harry got close and smacked the boy in the back of the head.
The boy’s eyes flew open, as he was wrenched back to reality. His body shuddered in surprise, and he heard himself yelp, “No!” Gasping for air, Harry laid his head on the desk.
Mr Weasley wouldn’t do that!
How do I know he wouldn’t?
He sighed. I don’t. I don’t know what he would do.
I can’t believe them. I’ve got to be careful.
“Harry?” Mrs Weasley’s asked from downstairs. “Did you hear me? Professor McGonagall is waiting for you.”
The boy could feel the numbing surge of adrenaline course through his body.
I have to go. But I’ll watch her and everyone else.
He abruptly sat up, eyes narrowed, body tensed, and left the room.
When he reached the bottom of the stairs, the two witches were quietly talking, their faces showing both sadness and concern. Mrs Weasley finally saw him, and their expressions quickly changed to neutral.
“There you are, Harry,” Mrs Weasley said, a half smile on her face. “I’ll leave you two now.” She hesitated, looking at Harry for several long moments. “Have a good trip,” she said before she walked back to the kitchen.
The professor looked up when he entered the room, her eyes quickly moving from his head to his feet, noting another set of oversized clothes, then she pursed her lips slightly.
“Good morning, Mr Potter.”
He nodded.
A million thoughts exploded in his head, each new assertion contradicting the previous one. Harry half closed his eyes as the filtered sunlight stabbed into his brain and created a pounding headache. His hand instinctively swept across his damp forehead, then massaged his right temple. Breathing deeply, he tried to fight down the nausea he felt rising in his stomach.
The professor reached out her hand to place it on his shoulder. Harry immediately shifted so he stood just beyond her reach. Minerva sighed and pulled her hand back, noting the wary but pained look on the boy’s face.
“I am looking forward to showing Diagon Alley to you.” She gave him a close-mouth smile. “I think you will find it a fascinating place.” Her voice softened as she kneeled down so she would be at eye level with the small boy. “The Alley has many shops, goods for sale, and people that you will find . . . ah . . . different. But I will be with you the entire time. You may find the experience educational and maybe even enjoyable. Shall we get started?”
Harry nodded his head again, fearing what could happen if he opened his mouth to speak.
“Good.” The professor stood up, and her demeanour changed from soft to stern in the blink of a cat’s eye. “We’re going by Floo. I will put some powder into the fireplace, then you walk into the flames . . .”
“What . . .?” The exclamation was out before he could stop it.
The professor’s exasperated expression quickly changed to understanding.
“Sorry, Mr Potter. This is one of the ways we travel, moving from one fireplace to another that is connected to the Floo network. I can assure you that the flames will not hurt you in the slightest. Let me demonstrate.”
After tossing some powder into the fireplace, the professor stepped into the green flames, then turned around and exited the fireplace.
“Convinced?” Her lips turned up for a moment.
Harry nodded. Green flames that don’t burn, but they take you somewhere? How do they do this stuff?
“When you enter the flames, they will feel comfortably warm. It is important you state your destination clearly — Leaky Cauldron — and keep your arms close to your body. When you reach the right fireplace, you will be automatically ejected.”
When Harry’s eyebrows shot up his forehead, she added, “You will not be hurt when you exit. I will go first. Follow me five seconds later. Here is the powder. Just throw it into the fire. Do you understand all of that?”
Looking at the boy’s wide eyes, the witch said in a much softer voice, “You’ll be fine, Mr Potter. I’ll be at the other end waiting for you. Leaky Cauldron, right?”
“Ri . . . right.”
The witch disappeared in a flame of green.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Harry threw the powder into the fireplace. If it hurts, I’ll jump out. Ignoring the protests coming form his brain, he hesitantly stepped into the green flames.
Ahhhh! His body momentarily rebelled.
Oh, it’s okay.
“Lea . . . Leaky Cau . . . Cauldron.”
The next second Harry felt himself spinning wildly though a darkened tunnel. I need to put my arms close to my body. His speed began to decrease as blurs of colour and indistinct noise flashed by. Suddenly, he felt like someone had flung him out of a doorway.
“Ahhhh.”
He stopped abruptly, feeling his body collide with something unmoving.
Harry lay still for several moments, his eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to move and find out he had damaged some part or many parts of himself.
Where am I?
He finally convinced himself to open his eyes and found he had landed against a pair of black boots. Slowly moving his head up, he saw a long black skirt, then black robes, and finally the thin lips and amused eyes of Professor McGonagall. She seemed to be shaking slightly and finally smiled at the boy.
“A rather inauspicious first Floo trip, Mr Potter. You’ll need to work on your exits, it appears.”
Harry cautiously stood up, took a deep breath, dusted off his clothes, and followed the professor out of the building, aware that the silence that had descended upon the room when he arrived continued well until he had exited the Leaky Cauldron.
Ginny Weasley flung herself onto her bed at the same time Harry Potter was launched from the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron. She pounded her defenceless pillow, trying to ignore the tears streaming down her cheeks.
Most of all, she tried to ignore the ache of not being invited to accompany Professor McGonagall and Harry to Diagon Alley.
He didn’t even tell me he was going.
When Ginny woke up earlier that morning, she heard voices coming from the sitting room and quickly recognized them as belonging to the professor and Harry. She jumped out of bed, ran a brush through her hair, donned her robe, and skipped down the stairs. She stopped several steps from the bottom.
The professor was giving Harry a lesson in Floo travel. Only then did the realization crash over her. They didn’t invite me. They don’t want me to go with them. Did they even think of me?
A few seconds later, Harry Potter had disappeared into the green flames.
Ginny finally stopped pounding her pillow, and her tears diminished to a slow trickle. Why do I even care? It’s obvious he doesn’t.
She tried to fight off the marauding thoughts, but soon they were scrolling through her mind, reminding her of all the times her brothers had excluded her.
“You’re too small, GinGin.”
“You’re too young; you could get hurt.”
“You’re a girl. Mum would scalp us.”
Then they would go off and abandon her — just like Harry had done.
He’s just like my brothers.
He doesn’t want me around.
He didn’t even think about inviting me.
Harry followed Professor McGonagall through the bustling Leaky Cauldron and out into a brick-enclosed courtyard. As soon as Harry closed the door behind them, the professor turned to him and said quietly, “Mr Potter, I am going to create a hat for you to wear while we are here, so your scar will be hidden from view. The magic I am going to do is referred to as ‘conjuring an object.’” When Harry took a subtle step away from the witch, she added, “It will not hurt you in any way. Watch what I do, please.”
Why should I hide my scar?
Maybe a lightning bolt has some special meaning in the wizarding world.
Harry watched as the professor pulled her wand out of a hidden pocket in her robes. I’ll run back into the restaurant if she does anything funny. He slid a few more steps towards the door and watched as the professor mumbled a few words he couldn’t understand.
“Ahhh!” Harry bolted towards the door. His hand had grasped the doorknob when he heard Professor McGonagall’s sharp words.
“Mr Potter! Stop!”
Her commanding tone stopped the boy instantly, as if she had frozen him in place.
Her voice lowered and became much softer. “Please turn around and you will see that I am holding a simple hat in my hand. You are not in danger, Mr Potter, I assure you.”
The boy closed his eyes and gulped in several mouthfuls of air, trying to slow down his heart, which seemed to leap into his throat with each beat. Slowly he turned towards the professor.
It’s a hat, just like she said.
When the boy cautiously approached her, McGonagall sighed internally. “Nothing will happen when you touch the hat, and I will not do anything to you.” She slowly moved her arm towards the boy, holding the cap by its bill, so his hand would not need to come close to hers.
Harry’s eyes darted between the hat and the professor. I’ll drop it if it feels weird.
His hand shot out and grabbed the hat so quickly the professor didn’t even see the movement. Harry immediately tensed, ready to drop the hat at the first sign something would happen. Several seconds elapsed.
It’s just a regular hat.
He relaxed slightly and examined the blue and black colours — blue in front and on the bill, black on the back panels — and the white and red Glasgow Rangers logo on the front of the crown. He looked briefly at the professor, braced himself, and put the hat on his head.
And quickly took it off, when his eyes and ears disappeared under the hat.
The professor arched her eyebrows. “I can shrink the hat, so it fits better.”
Harry nodded and handed it back to her. A few seconds later, a smaller, correctly fitting hat was returned to him. Harry looked around the courtyard, a puzzled expression on his face. There’s nowhere to go.
But he looked in amazement as the witch walked up to the brick wall opposite the door they’d just come through. With several well-placed taps of her wand on the bricks, an arch opened, revealing the wonders of Diagon Alley to an open-mouthed Harry Potter.
McGonagall turned and smiled. “Welcome to the magical world, Mr Potter.”
Suddenly, her eyes widened, causing Harry to step back and look at her with alarm. “No cause to worry,” she said quietly. “I just realized it is probably best that I do not use your name while we are here. I will refer to you . . . hmm . . . as my nephew, if the situation requires that.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed in response. Why doesn’t she want to use my name? Is this another thing they’re not telling me? I guess it’s okay.
Once he nodded, the professor said, “We should go to Gringrotts, the wizarding bank, first so you will have funds for your purchases. Stay close to me, please.”
Wizarding bank? Is this where my money is supposed to be? Why am I just finding out about this?
As they started walking, Harry’s stomach roiled as he first saw the crowded, cobble stone street. The noise, the activity, how different everything was from what he had seen before flooded the boy’s senses.
He desperately tried to bring back Mr Weasley’s words or the reassurance of him squeezing his hand. But the clamour and chatter in the alley obscured the wizard’s words and stopped the image from forming.
The professor took note of Harry’s overwhelmed reaction and whispered, “I’m right here with you. Just concentrate on what we are doing. You’ll be fine.”
He nodded mutely. I’ve got to do this. It’s just Professor McGonagall and me. Harry steeled himself for what he had to do, and they started walking down the alley.
Harry’s head was almost owl-like, turning often and almost all the way around, so he could take in everything the street had to offer. Each building had a different design and colour to it; some had their products sitting outside to entice customers to stop. Myriad smells and aromas — some pleasant; others shocking — were evident as they passed the Apothecary Store and cafes. Strange musical sounds caught his attention, and Harry looked to the left side of the street, seeing the sign advertising Magical Instruments.
But quickly, the press of people streaming through the alley claimed his attention. All of the people he saw had on robes similar to those the professors wore, but in a rainbow of colours and styles, and they were bustling from one shop to another. The new sights, sounds, and smells combined and assaulted the boy’s senses. His breathing became shallow.
This is way more crowded than walking through the hallways at school, and everyone is bigger than me. It’s way too crowded. I can’t stand this.
“Ow!”
“Oh, sorry, young man. I didn’t see you there.”
Harry stared at the middle-aged witch as she continued on her way. Didn’t see me? She was looking at the poster of that blond guy in the book store window.
Harry wiped the heel of his hand across his forehead. His stomach felt like a series of explosions was going off in it, and his breathing came in short, shallow gasps.
God, my head hurts; everything’s getting blurry. I can hardly walk . . .
“Profess . . . “
Harry lurched to a stop, his hands on knees, gasping for air, his head spinning so fast it felt like it was going to fly off his shoulders. Minerva McGonagall quickly walked back to the red-faced boy. “What’s wrong? Can you talk?”
Harry opened his eyes, but quickly shut them as the light exploded into his head. “Feel sick.”
McGonagall moved her arm to place it around the boy’s shoulders, so she could help him to the side of the alley. Catching herself just before she touched him, she asked, “Can you move about ten feet to your right?”
Harry nodded weakly and stumbled to the side of the alley, finally leaning against the building. His eyes closed again, and his breath continued to come in ragged gasps. If my head doesn’t stop spinning, I’m going to be sick. A close by voice interrupted his thoughts.
“I’m going to cast Calming and Cooling Spells. You should feel better immediately.”
He heard a few muttered words . . .
“Th . . . thanks, Professor,” he whispered. Everything’s better. This magic is amazing. I thought I was going to explode.
The calm voice returned. “Just let me know when you feel well enough to walk again. Okay?”
He nodded his head. Once his breathing returned to normal, he slowly opened his eyes. The light doesn’t hurt anymore.
He took several deep breaths. “B . . . b . . . better now.”
The professor closely examined Harry’s face and breathing pattern, a worried look on her face. Finally she asked quietly, “Do you want to continue? We can return to the Weasleys’ if you prefer.”
The boy considered her offer for only a few seconds, before a look of determination shone in his eyes. “H . . . here.” He gulped in a breath of air.
The witch’s brief smile was barely noticeable. “Good for you. Please inform me immediately if you begin to feel that way again. We can walk slowly,” she said, and they started moving down the street again.
After passing one more shop, Harry stopped and stared at the largest building he had ever seen, the all-white marble Gringotts Wizarding Bank. More than a dozen wide stairs led up to the columned entry and enormous doors. What are those things by the doors?
McGonagall watched Harry’s reaction to the impressive building, and his questioning expression when he saw the guards at the front doors. “Those are goblins, Mr . . . They are a different specie than wizards. Don’t let their short stature cause you to underestimate them. Goblins are very intelligent and have run the wizarding banks for many centuries. Try not to let their different appearance, voices, or personalities bother you.”
The professor paused, as Harry continued to stare at the two goblins outside the bank. When she spoke again, her voice was just above a whisper. “Wizards have mistreated goblins for a long time now. If you treat them with respect, you will gain their respect. If you do, you will have acquired a powerful ally.”
Two very different thoughts came to the boy. Why wouldn’t I treat them with respect? The second thought was much more startling. Why do I need them to be an ally?
The professor asked in her normal tone of voice. “Would you like me to communicate your needs to the goblins inside the bank?”
Harry looked relieved and nodded his head. “Thank you.”
“Stay with me. You’ll be fine. But if anything bothers you, let me know immediately.”
“I w . . . w . . . will.”
The mismatched pair walked into the bank. The professor paused inside the lobby to search for an available teller. Finding one, she started walking briskly in that direction but stopped almost immediately, when she noticed her charge was still looking around the huge, high-ceilinged room, his eyes bright and his mouth open.
Minerva smiled to herself, thinking there was most likely an avid student hidden somewhere inside that boy. Merlin, I hope we can bring out the real Harry Potter.
Finally, Harry became aware that the professor was waiting for him. He looked at her apologetically. “S . . . sorry.”
She smiled. “That is quite alright. It is an impressive room, isn’t it?”
Her heart lurched when he almost smiled back. “Yeah.”
She gestured in the direction of the still available teller, and they walked to his counter.
“We would like to make a withdrawal from the young gentleman’s school funds.” The professor leaned forward and continued her request in words Harry could not hear.
The goblin nodded. “Key, please.”
The professor reached into her purse and pulled out an old-fashion iron key and showed it to the goblin.
He smiled, revealing small, sharp teeth. “Thank you. Proceed through those doors. A cart will take you to the vault.” He pointed to where the doors were located.
The professor started walking in that direction and the goblin resumed reading the papers stacked in front of him.
“Th . . . thank you, sir.”
The goblin’s head jerked up and he peered over his half-moon glasses. His piercing gaze quickly turned to surprise, then appreciation. “You are quite welcome. Griphook manages your account. He will be waiting for you through the doors. Good day, young man.”
Harry joined Professor McGonagall, who had witnessed the exchange. “That was very good of you. I’ve never heard a goblin say that much to a customer. Well done!”
Pushing through the heavy double doors, the professor and her student walked over to the portly goblin, who half-bowed when they reached him.
“If I may have the key to the young gentleman’s vault, the cart will take us directly there.”
The professor smiled internally at the goblin’s use of the general designation in place of her charge’s proper name, knowing the goblin at the counter had somehow communicated her request while they were walking across the lobby.
She handed the key to the goblin, who read the number on it, and gestured to the cart waiting on the adjacent track.
Despite the stone passageways being rather dark — flaming wall torches were the only source of light — Harry’s eyes roved around the area, trying to take in every detail. Once Professor McGonagall had entered the rear bench seat, he followed her.
The goblin turned and said, “Hold on.” A second later the cart shot forward with head snapping acceleration.
Once he got used to the motion, a smile spread over Harry’s face, as the cart hurtled down the darkened track, racing around blind curves, past barely visible vaults, and finally stopping abruptly in front of what he assumed was his vault.
The goblin was already standing beside the cart. “Please follow me.”
Harry got out of the cart and turned to look at the professor.
“I shall remain here. Take however much time you need to explore your vault. Oh, I would suggest you collect twenty-five to thirty of the gold coins, and a hand full each of the silver and bronze coins. The goblin will have a bag for them.”
Harry walked over to the vault door. The goblin inserted the key, turned it, and Harry could hear the locks tumbling. Moments later, the goblin opened the door, leaving Harry dumbstruck at the sight.
“Th . . . this is all m . . . mine?”
The goblin shot a curious look at the young boy and replied in a voice Harry could barely hear. “This vault contains your school funds. It is but a small part of the Potter Family wealth.”
Air exploded from Harry’s chest. “Th . . . there’s more?”
The goblin nodded his head, while carefully scrutinizing the boy. His reply again was at a discrete level. “The Potter Family vault is on the seventh level. In addition to a substantially larger amount of money, your family’s heirlooms are contained there, including jewellery, loose gem stones, paintings, furniture, books, and other artefacts.”
“Tha . . . thank you, M . . . mis . . .ter Griphook.” The boy’s breathing became laboured again.
“It’s just Griphook. And you’re welcome, young man.” He handed a money bag to the boy and watched as he filled it, finally coming to a decision. “It may prove helpful for you to return here when you have time to meet with us individually. You could visit the Family vault and learn more about your family’s holdings. Just contact me when it would be convenient for you to do so.”
Harry closed his eyes to stop the questions spinning through his mind. Can I trust Griphook? Is he trying to get my money? Maybe he just wants to help.
Why didn’t anyone tell me this money was here? I wouldn’t have had to wear Dudley’s cast offs.
The boy’s breathing stopped with the next thought. Is that why the Weasleys are letting me stay with them? Do they want my money? He shuddered involuntarily. Stop it! They may not even know about this money.
Wait! Professor McGonagall knew I had this account.
Dumbledore! He’s always behind . . .
“Young man!”
Harry’s eyes flew open. Griphook had backed away several feet, an alarmed expression on his face. Several drops of moisture had formed on Harry’s forehead.
The boy glanced briefly at the goblin. “S . . . sorry,” he whispered.
When Harry and Griphook returned to the cart, Professor McGonagall asked, “Did you get everything you needed?”
“Y . . . yes.”
In a matter of minutes, the cart returned them to the lobby level. Harry walked over to the goblin. “Thank y . . . you, Grip . . . hook.”
“My pleasure, young man.”
After walking across the lobby, Professor McGonagall and Harry paused by the exit. “Do you want to visit the shops now so we can purchase your school supplies?”
Thoughts of going out into the crowded street, being bumped and pushed along, having to find what he needed flashed through his mind. His eyes closed and he took a deep breath. The bank was okay. I’ve got money. The professor knows what to get and where the stuff is.
The image of Mr Weasley, with his outstretched hand and upturned palm, flickered through his mind. I can do this. It’ll be alright.
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“We will begin at the Magical Menagerie.” When Harry looked confused, the professor added, “Students are allowed to bring a familiar — that is, a pet — to school. Toads, cats, rats, and owls are the most popular choices.”
As they left the bank and walked down the street, the professor continued her description. “This store has a wide variety of animals, with the exception of owls, which we will find at a shop by the entrance to the alley.”
Harry kept his focus on the sign for the Menagerie, which was located in the second building from the bank. They entered the store to a cacophony of sounds, smells, and activity.
Two steps into the premises, Harry abruptly stopped, his eyes wide and his cheeks colouring. The professor had been keeping an eye on him, so she, too, stopped.
“We will walk through the store, so you can see if any of these animals appeal to you,” she advised gently. “If you find one you want as a pet, please let me know, and I will help you purchase it. But it is perfectly acceptable if you do not find anything. I will be by your side the entire time.”
The boy looked at the professor with uncomfortable eyes and nodded. Moving through the various aisles in the store, they saw toads, snails, tortoises, cats, rats, ravens, and a wide assortment of animals Harry had never seen before and couldn’t imagine having as a pet.
When they passed the cages holding the white rabbits, several popped from visible to invisible and back in a blink of an eye.
“Ah!” Harry jumped back in surprise and looked at Professor McGonagall.
She looked down her nose at the rabbits and said disdainfully, “They are show-offs.”
Harry held back a snort, knowing that the professor would not approve if he chose a rabbit to take to school.
Finally, they had seen all of the pets in the store, and Professor McGonagall looked at the boy expectantly.
Nothing appealed to him, so Harry shook his head, thinking he may have seen an approving nod from the professor. She led him out of the shop and hurried past the next building without a second glance. While speeding by, Harry noticed the sign “Gambol & Japes” over the door and adverts in the window for joke items.
They continued down the street and stopped before a narrow shop, “Ollivander’s, Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.”
“One of a wizard’s most important possessions is his wand,” Professor McGonagall said in a voice Harry assumed was her ‘teaching’ voice. “Most magic requires the use of a wand in order to direct it properly. Each one is different, varying by the type of wood used, the length, its flexibility, and the type of magical ingredient held inside the wand.” She pointed to the sign. “Mr Ollivander is considered the premier wand maker in Britain.”
Entering the shop, the misty-eyed, decidedly weird Mr Ollivander immediately made Harry feel very uncomfortable, especially when he greeted the boy in a strangely ethereal voice. “I’ve been expecting you, Mr Potter.”
Harry frantically looked around the shop but saw no other customers, wondering why the man was saying his name when the professor wouldn’t.
How does he know who I am?
He became even more uncomfortable when Ollivander remembered the exact wand Professor McGonagall had purchased when she was eleven years old.
After having him test virtually every wand in his shop, Ollivander got a gleam in his eyes that caused Harry to take a step back and stare suspiciously at the old man.
“I know just the wand for you, Mr Potter,” the old man said almost excitedly, and he walked back into the furthest reaches of his dusty shop. Finally returning, he handed the wand to Harry, though he appeared to already know it was the right one. “Holly, eleven inches, supple, with a single phoenix tail feather.”
Harry waved it as the old wizard had instructed, and a shower of red and gold sparks exploded from the tip. Harry jumped back in shock, almost dropping the wand.
“My, my, very powerful, Mr Potter, but I imagine that is to be expected.”
The professor looked sharply at the wand maker, and he stopped quickly. “We’ll just ring you up, then.”
Harry’s stomach dropped, and he quickly looked at Professor McGonagall for help. She calmly reached into her purse and withdrew the money bag Harry had given her for safekeeping.
Mr Ollivander gave them the price of the wand, and the professor counted out the coins, so Harry could see what she was doing. After the professor had a brief conversation with Mr Ollivander that Harry couldn’t hear, they soon exited the strange shop, the wand safely in the witch’s purse.
“All of the remaining stores we need to visit are located past Gringotts. Let’s get your robes next.” When Harry glanced at the sign of the store they were passing, “Second Hand Robes”, the professor added, “Madam Malkin’s is the best place for robes.
“You will be wearing robes every day, as they are part of your school uniform. I think three black school robes should be sufficient, plus a set of dress robes for any formal occasions that may occur.”
Harry’s eyebrows shot up to the top of his forehead.
Harry breathed a sigh of relief when he found no one else in the shop. Madam Malkin, a short, plump witch, whom Harry thought was even older than his professor, bustled over.
She soon had Harry standing on a low wooden box. He looked desperately at Professor McGonagall when Madam Malkin took out a measuring tape and announced she needed to record his various lengths, widths, and circumferences. The professor whispered something to the witch, who nodded and quickly obtained the information she needed, while not actually touching her customer. Harry’s eyes were closed the entire time and his body tense to the point of shaking from the witch’s proximity.
The school robes were quickly selected and tailored. The dress robes took a bit longer. Harry kept shaking his head whenever Madame Malkin or the professor brought him anything other than in black.
Finally, the professor found a set in bottle green. “These will perfectly complement your eyes. They’re quite handsome.”
Harry quickly agreed. Madam Malkin measured them on him and promised the robes would be ready in half an hour.
Harry virtually raced out of the shop, trying to ignore the moisture he felt drizzling down his back. When Professor McGonagall reached him, she looked across the street. Harry followed her eyes to a sign advertising, “Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour.” He looked at the professor expectantly.
“Since we have about thirty minutes until your robes will be ready, why don’t we get some ice cream?” The professor’s eyes smiled, even though her mouth remained in its usual straight line.
Harry nodded enthusiastically. I can probably count the number of times on one hand the Dursleys let me have ice cream.
They walked across the alley to the ice cream parlour, which only had a few customers. Harry felt his body stiffen but kept repeating, I can do this, I can do this . . .
The professor’s gentle voice asked, “What would you like me to order for you?”
Harry had been examining the sign behind the counter that listed the various offerings. He kept returning to treacle tart ice cream, though he had no idea what treacle tart was.
Fighting the feeling he was doing something he shouldn’t, Harry whispered, “Tr . . . treacle tart? Please.”
The professor smiled at him. “Good choice.”
After their selections had been prepared and paid for, they went outside to a patio that contained about ten tables, each shaded by a colourful umbrella. Harry savoured each bite of the treacle tart ice cream, while sitting silently but comfortably, with the professor, who, by the looks of the ice cream in her bowl, had ordered plain vanilla.
Licking the spoon in an almost cat-like manner after the last bite, the professor smiled and said, “After we get your robes, we still need to purchase your school books, writing materials, travel trunk, potion supplies, cauldron, and visit the owl emporium.” Her voice dropped in volume. “Will that pose a problem?”
Sitting in the otherwise unoccupied patio, with a waist-high brick wall separately it from the alley, Harry felt relatively safe. I know it will be hard to go out with all those people again. But it would be a hundred times worse to have to come back again. The next thought startled him. Ginny’s present. I can’t forget that.
He looked at the professor. “N . . . no pro . . . problem. But,” the professor’s eyes sharpened; Harry ducked his head, “Gi . . . Gin . . . Ginny’s present.”
The professor looked nonplussed. “A present for Miss Weasley?”
“B . . . birth . . . day.” The boy took a big breath.
The professor couldn’t hide the surprised look on her face. Quickly replacing it with a neutral expression, she asked, “Have you thought about what you want to get her?”
He pointed toward a sign down the street. “Sta . . . sta . . . stationery.”
“Very good. We will stop there after the book store.” This time, the witch hid her reaction, turning away from the boy so a smile could spread across her face.
Madam Malkin had the purchases waiting for them. The professor shrunk the packages and placed them in her purse. “Flourish and Blott’s is next door. They have all the books set aside for each year, but if you want, we can browse for a short time. Would you like to do that?”
Despite himself, Harry smiled. The thought of going into a store that was filled with books seemed amazing to him.
The professor smiled to herself, when she saw her student’s reaction seconds after they had entered the bookstore. Harry’s eyes darted from one side of the large building to the other, up one aisle and down another, filling with a light the witch wished would become more permanent.
“If I may make a suggestion?”
Harry looked up, an open, inquisitive expression on his face.
“A book on magical life that provides an overview of our society might be beneficial, since you are new to the wizarding world. Also, a history book on magical events,” she paused, “more widely focused than the text we use at Hogwarts would be instructive, I think.”
“S . . . sure.”
Professor McGonagall guided her student to the appropriate sections and helped the boy find the types of books she had recommended. Looking around the store, she thought that it was a good decision to come this early, since the alley was relatively quiet, and she had seen very few students.
“We can pay for these books and pick up the required texts at the counter in the rear of the building.” On their way to the back counter, she asked, “Would you like to pay the clerk?”
The boy stopped, virtually in mid-step. I won’t know what to do. The clerk will think I’m an idiot. Then he thought of the purchases from the other stores. The other places added them up and gave the professor a total amount. It’s just simple math.
He nodded. “Yes.”
The transaction went smoothly, despite Harry’s nervousness. As they walked to the Stationary Store next door, Professor McGonagall said, “Hogwarts has a very large and extensive library. You may find it fun to read beyond the required books for the classes you are taking.”
Harry’s first thought was, I bet the Hogwarts’ library is much bigger than my school’s. His brow furrowed. How did she know I like to read?
“You’ll find everything for your writing needs in this store.” She looked around and found two chairs and a small table off to one side of the shop. “Let’s sit over here for a minute.”
Once seated, the professor explained, “In the wizarding world, we do not use the same writing instruments or materials you used before.” When the boy deflated, she continued gently, “The differences are small. I doubt you’ll have any trouble at all. Let me show you.”
She pulled several items from her bag. Harry examined them, a questioning look on his face.
There are so many changes. Nothing is what I’m used to. I wish something was the same.
“This is parchment.” Professor McGonagall picked up the paper-like material. “As you can see, it has a creamy or yellowish colour, and it is thicker than the paper you are used to.” Next she gestured to a long feather. “We use a quill, rather than a biro or pencil. Unlike either of those instruments, the quill cannot write on its own. It is dipped in an ink well,” she gestured at a glass container filled with a dark liquid, “though some people are now using self-inking quills.” Her disdain was obvious. “You should purchase three to five quills, one of which should be of high quality, and at least five ink wells. One-hundred feet of parchment should be more than sufficient for the first half of the term.
“Do you need me to help you select these items or Miss Weasley’s gift?”
Harry ducked his head, embarrassed that he could feel a blush on his cheeks.
“Then while you get your supplies, I will look for her gift. I know exactly what I want to give her.” The boy looked up. “A diary. Witches her age love to pour their soul into something safe like a diary.” She smiled. “And a diary never talks back.”
Harry selected five quills, including an expensive one with a pure white feather and another that was self-inking. I can’t let Professor McGonagall see that one. He added seven ink wells and parchment. Then he picked out Ginny’s gift. Professor McGonagall was waiting for him when he arrived at the counter to pay for his purchases.
“Did you find everything?”
He nodded, hoping she wouldn’t notice the self-inking quill. As the clerk rang up the purchases, Harry began to feel warmer. When the clerk picked up the self-inking quill, Harry thought he was going to melt into a pool of goo. By sheer luck, the professor had turned and was inspecting ornamental ink wells on a nearby shelf, returning only when all of his supplies had been totalled, put into a bag, and shrunk.
When the clerk told Harry the amount he owed, he put the money bag on the counter and pulled out what he thought was the right amount. He could feel the professor watching him, so he counted the coins a second time, just too make sure, and then handed them to the clerk.
With a practiced eye, the clerk verified he had been given the correct amount and put the coins into the register. “Thank you, young man.” He nodded at the witch. “Good day, Professor.”
Professor McGonagall nodded. “Good day, Mr Scrivener.”
With Harry’s purchases safely in her purse, they crossed the street to Eeylops Owl Emporium. The professor said, “While cats are by far my favourite animal, many students prefer an owl. They are loyal and can be used to carry mail. Here we are. Let’s see what catches your attention.”
When they walked into the shop, Harry noticed that most of the owls were asleep, with their head tucked under a wing. He wandered up and down the aisles in the shop, looking at a number of possibilities. While he had been searching, one animal kept catching his attention. The snowy white owl had a regal, yet friendly appearance and very expressive amber eyes. As soon as Harry walked over, he was sure. Standing in front of the cage, he almost felt like the owl had told him to pick her.
Harry turned to his professor. “Th . . .this owl.”
She lifted the cage off its hook, and the three of them went to the counter. Harry paid for the owl, her cage, and several boxes of owl treats. Instead of shrinking the owl and her cage, the professor explained to Harry that she would send them to The Burrow by using a spell.
He shook his head, his cheeks instantly turning crimson. “You’ll hurt her!”
The professor’s surprised expression quickly changed to neutral. “You will learn to do many things that you formerly thought were impossible. For now, please trust that I would never do anything that would harm an innocent animal.”
The boy gazed at the professor for a few seconds, then turned his head, his eyes staring dully at nothing. I’ve seen her do other magical things, like the hat. None of them hurt me or anything else. The store clerks shrunk our stuff. It doesn’t make sense that she would hurt my owl. She doesn’t seem like a mean person. I don’t like this, but I have to believe her.
While Harry considered her answer, McGonagall thought about his reaction. There is definitely more to this boy than is usually apparent. Both times he has spoken strongly and without his usual stammering he has been angry. I wonder if his anger pushes out the real boy hiding inside.
The boy finally answered, “O . . . kay.”
“Thank you.” A second later, the owl and her cage had disappeared. “Your owl and her cage will be at The Burrow when we return there,” the professor explained as they walked to the next store.
The Apothecary was Harry’s least favourite of all the shops they had visited. While the professor purchased the pre-assembled first year potions package, Harry wandered through the aisles of the store. I wish I knew a spell to stop these horrible smells. How can anyone work in a place like this? And these barrels have some of the most disgusting things I’ve ever seen. Who would want to work with this stuff? I have a feeling Potions will not be a good class.
Their stop at the Cauldron Shop was the quickest of all. In a matter of a few minute the appropriately sized pewter cauldron was purchased, shrunk, and placed in the professor’s purse.
Harry and Professor McGonagall completed his shopping excursion with a stop at The Trunk store, where the witch thoughtfully suggested he add wheels and an extendable handle to make moving it easier until he could use magic outside of Hogwarts.
Returning to the Leaky Cauldron, the professor said to Harry, “You look tired. Has this taken a lot out of you?”
He looked up at the professor with droopy eyes. “Yeah.” His shoulders slumped. “N . . . ne . . . never done this be . . . fore. Thank y . . . you.” He slowed down, as they approached the brick entrance to the Leaky Cauldron courtyard, the last sentence seemingly expending the last of his energy.
“You’re welcome.” Minerva McGonagall knelt down and caught the boy’s eyes with her own. Quietly but with strong emotion, she said, “I’m very proud of you, Harry. I know doing all these new things has been tough for you, but you stuck with it. I am very impressed.”
The boy ducked his head down and his cheeks heated up.
“There will be many new challenges for you — new people, new school, learning about magic . . . learning who you really are.”
The boy’s head snapped up.
He looked at the professor, an indefinable expression on his face. He looked far too worn out to be just eleven years old. Minerva McGonagall’s heart nearly broke, as she saw too many emotions fighting for dominance on the young boy’s face — doubt, determination, distrust, hope, weariness. His eyes had lost the lustre they had held earlier; no enthusiasm, joy, or energy could be found any longer.
Harry’s thoughts were a jumble. I’m so tired. Nothing makes any sense, and I’m tired of trying to figure it out. I wish everyone would just leave me alone.
“Shall we return to The Burrow?” Minerva was not sure the boy had heard her.
Finally, he nodded and looked at the brick wall. She tapped it, and they stepped through, walking silently through the building to the fireplace. Harry entered first. This trip went more smoothly, since he remembered to keep his arms close to his body. Still, he felt uncomfortable the entire trip and flew out of the fireplace when he reached The Burrow.
After regaining his balance and dusting off his clothes, Harry looked up and saw Ginny standing in front of him. A shy smile began to spread across his face. However, the smile faded when he realised that Ginny was glaring stonily at him.
“You . . .” Ginny began, but she was interrupted when Professor McGonagall appeared in the fireplace.
“Oh, hello, Miss Weasley,” she said pleasantly. “We missed you this morning.”
To the Professor's and Harry's shock, Ginny promptly burst into tears and fled from the room, nearly crashing into her mother, who had come to greet the newcomers.
“Oh my goodness! Ginny!” Mrs Weasley cried after her sobbing daughter. She then turned and addressed Harry. “What happened, dear?”
Harry immediately hung his head, his cheeks burning with embarrassment and shame. Ignoring Mrs Weasley's and Professor McGonagall's worried calls, he whirled around and escaped up the stairs into his room. Locking the door behind him, he sank onto the floor, his blood pounding in his ears.
I knew it, he thought dully. She was just pretending to like me.
Chapter 11: First Steps
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.
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.
“Ginny, 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.
Molly 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.
Chapter 12: Family
Author's Notes: The Latin terms for a few of the cooking and cleaning charms mentioned early in this chapter were obtained through an online translator. They’re as close as I could come, so don’t throw me to the lions, please.
My wonderful beta, cwarbeck, continues to fight the good battle against my occasionally dodgy wording and my persistent lack of "u's" in the appropriate Brit words. She must have a huge supply of that letter somewhere! Thanks for all your help, cel!
As you can see from the word count, this is the biggest chapter so far. Hope you enjoy it!
Harry lay in bed, woken by the stream of sunlight that had made its way across the floor and onto his bed, specifically the feather-soft pillow where his head rested. He luxuriated in the feeling of the comfortable mattress and a real bed, thinking it was a huge improvement on his thin, broken-spring mattress that lay upon the concrete floor of the cupboard under the stairs at his relatives’ house.
Shaking off the thoughts of his former residence, Harry got out of bed, took a quick shower, dressed, and went downstairs.
“M . . . morning,” he greeted Mrs Weasley, who was seated at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of tea and reading a newspaper.
“Oh, Harry, you startled me.” Mrs Weasley smiled. “You’re up early this morning. I just got up myself.”
“Can I h . . . help you with break . . . fast?”
“No, dear . . .” Then she looked at the newest member of her family. “On second thought, why don’t I show you some cooking and cleaning charms?” She smiled again at the young boy. “Just watch what I’m doing, and I’ll explain the charm that makes it easier. How’s that, Harry?”
“Th . . . that would be great. Th . . . thanks, Mrs . . . Weasley.”
Harry became Mrs Weasley’s shadow, silently following her as she made that morning’s breakfast.
Mrs Weasley’s voice assumed a teaching mode. “You already know how to levitate an object — Wingardium Leviosa — but there are two other charms that are similar. The first is for Summoning something, and the word used is Accio, plus the object’s name.” She looked around and pointed her wand towards the end of the counter. “Accio rag.”
The rag that had been neatly folded on the far end of counter flew towards Mrs Weasley. Harry instinctively caught it, then handed the rag to her.
“The opposite — to send something away — is called Banishing, and the word used is Depulso. Do you understand?”
Harry nodded and scanned the kitchen for something to move. A book — probably Percy’s, Harry thought — sat on the end of the table. He focused on the book, pointed at it, and thought Accio book. In the next second, he caught it, thanking his luck it wasn’t a heavier book. Using the Depulso charm, he returned it to the table.
“Very good, Harry.” Mrs Weasley beamed at him. “These charms are not necessarily for cooking, but they come in handy when you are assembling your ingredients, dishes, utensils, and other things.
“I don’t like to Summon eggs,” she laughed, “for obvious reasons. Would you get a dozen out of the cold pantry for me?”
As soon as Harry brought the eggs over, Mrs Weasley continued the lesson. “To turn on the burners on the stove, say the word Flamma, which means flame. Aestus turns the oven on, just count for the temperature you need, one second for each 100 degrees. Would you like to turn on three of the burners, dear? You can guide the height of the flame by raising or lowering your wand, er, your hand. Set them for medium, please.”
Harry looked at the three burners in turn, thinking the word, Flamma, and raising his hand slightly to bring each to a medium heat.
“Excellent, Harry!”
The cooking charms lesson continued with Mrs Weasley explaining how to use Crusta to peel potatoes, Concutio to scramble eggs or mix batter, plus cleaning spells such as Scourgify to scour and Tergeo Lanx to wash dishes.
By the time the lesson was over, the breakfast was ready, and within a few minutes the rest of the Weasleys had made their way downstairs, rubbing the sleep from their eyes, and mumbling “Good morning.” Harry noticed a few surprised looks cast in his direction, but he wasn’t sure whether they were due to his being up and dressed already, for helping out with breakfast, or maybe even both actions.
Conversation was sporadic, and the few comments made were short and subdued. Not a morning group, Harry thought. Then he looked at Ginny and had to hold back a snort. She looked like she’d fallen asleep again, with her head hanging down and her crimson hair forming a curtain around her face. Harry smiled to himself, thinking if her head drooped any further, she would be wearing her breakfast.
Harry’s stomach rumbled again, a disturbance that had occurred at almost every meal since he had arrived at The Burrow. I’m still not used to eating this much and these types of food. Breakfast at the other place was usually cold cereal with a little bit of milk.
He quietly excused himself, placed his dishes in the sink, and made his usual, hopefully discrete trip to the loo. When he returned to the kitchen, the others were finished and Mrs Weasley was talking.
“Ginny, you have household chores this morning. Ron, George, and Fred, the garden needs degnoming and don’t just drop them over the wall because they return too quickly.”
One of the twins quickly protested. “What about Percy?”
Mrs Weasley said, “If you’d prefer to do your summer homework, that can be arranged.”
“Uh, no, Mum,” the twin stammered. “We’re on our way.”
As Ron and the twins started to go upstairs to get dressed, Harry quietly asked, “Mrs Weasley, what about m . . . me?”
Ginny looked up in the hope Harry would be assigned to help her. Her smile disappeared when Ron said, “Harry, come with us. Degnoming can be fun . . .”
A twin snorted. “Once you get into the swing of things.”
In a few minutes, the three Weasley boys descended the stairs like a runaway pack of hyenas, motioned for Harry to join them, and headed outside to the garden.
When Mrs Weasley had mentioned degnoming the garden, Harry immediately wondered two things. What is degnoming? And the second, I don’t remember seeing anything in the garden that shouldn’t have been there.
Walking out to the garden with the three youngest Weasley brothers, Harry scanned the area, until Ron leaned close, causing Harry to subtly take a step away from the boy.
Ron asked quietly, not noticing Harry’s shift in position, “You don’t know what gnomes are, do you?” His voice and demeanour showed no sarcasm or negative intentions.
Harry shook his head.
Ron explained, “I’m not surprised, since they live only at magical properties. Anyhow, they’re really ugly little people, who live underground and dig up plant roots. Once they’ve found a home, it’s hard to get rid of them, so we’re constantly tossing them over the wall during the summer. Trouble is, they keep coming back.”
Harry looked sceptically at the lanky boy. “Y . . . you throw th . . . them?”
Ron nodded enthusiastically. “Kind of fun, actually. First, we have to catch them. They’re not too smart. As soon as one gets caught, he starts yelling, and that brings out all the others because they want to see what all the commotion’s about, yeah? Try to grab them by an arm or leg. They like to bite, so be careful. When you’ve caught one, hold on to an arm or foot, twirl them around a few times and throw the blighter over the wall. That way they’ll be dizzy and may stagger off to someone else’s place.”
Harry felt appalled by Ron’s description of “degnoming.” They’re little people, and you throw them over the fence? That’s got to hurt them. Harry looked suspiciously at Ron. I wonder if he’s taking the mickey out of me.
“Doesn’t that hurt them?” Harry asked.
Ron shrugged, as if to indicate ‘who cares.’ “Nah, they don’t have feelings like us.”
Harry turned away, so Ron couldn’t see the angry look on his face. That’s just how the Dursleys treated me, as if I had no feelings like they did.
Ron interrupted Harry’s thoughts. “There’s one,” and he pointed to something that looked to Harry like a bag of potatoes with legs and clothes on it.
The gnome had seen George on one side of his hole, so he turned and ran the opposite direction . . . right into Fred, who scooped him up with a whoop. Fred held the lumpy little man by the wrist and swung him in a circle twice, then sent the gnome flying over the fence. All the while this was happening, the gnome yelled a string of epithets that caused Harry’s ear to turn bright red.
All the yelling brought out many more gnomes — just like Ron had said — so George, Fred, Ron, and finally Harry, each latched onto one. Harry tried to be gentle with the gnome, thinking it looked like an uglier version of Grumpy from Snow White.
“Ow!”
Ron and the twins quickly looked at Harry who was wringing his left index finger.
All three started laughing and Ron said, “I told you that you have to watch them. They’ll take advantage if you’re too nice.”
Harry’s face had turned red, and he looked at the gnome through narrowed eyes. Grabbing the gnome’s ankle, Harry swung him in a circle three times before launching him, finishing the throw by extending his arms fully when he let go.
“Whoa!”
“How’d you do that?”
“That must be ten metres past Fred’s first throw.”
Three sets of eyes stared at Harry, who dropped his head and mumbled, “He b . . . bit m . . . me.”
The twins started snickering, and George said, “Remind us not to get you angry at us.”
Fred had an inquisitive expression on his face. “Harry, do you think you may have done a Banishing charm on him?”
The question startled Harry. He shook his head but started wondering. I didn’t think of anything. I was just mad. I really wish they’d stop looking at me.
He wiped the heel of his hand across his forehead to blot up the moisture that had formed, leaving a streak of dirt instead.
George was now standing a few feet from Harry and eyeing him closely. “Harry, if I scare one out of this hole, could you levitate and Banish him?”
Harry stared at George for several seconds, then dropped his head, fighting several different feelings. I want to help, but I don’t like them singling me out. Why can’t we just do what they’ve always done? It makes me feel like a freak, like they just want to laugh at me. He took several steps away from George and the other two boys, who had just joined them.
Finally deciding it was better to go along with the request, Harry shrugged his shoulders. “O . . . kay.” The three brothers smiled evilly.
They moved to another gnome-hole and started making a racket. When the gnome appeared, Harry quickly pointed his hand and thought Wingardium Leviosa. The three red heads exploded with cheers as the little man started rising into the air. The unexpected noise startled Harry and almost made him lose control of the gnome.
Frowning, he levitated the gnome to the height of the wall, which was about six or seven metres away. Then, Harry quickly extended his arm out, while thinking Depulso. The little man shot from the yard, as if from a cannon, and landed at least twenty-five metres beyond the wall.
Harry winced when he heard the gnome land with a thud and a resounding, “Oof.”
A second later, the whoops and cheers from the three Weasleys overwhelmed any other sounds that may have come from the gnome. The twins pressed close to him, arms raised to pat him on the back or shoulder. Before either of them could move, Harry had disappeared and turned up beyond their reach so quickly they hadn’t even seen him move.
The twins stared at Harry, startled by his sudden movement and the expression on the boy’s face, which seemed to combine anger with fear and wariness. Ron immediately saw that Harry was ready to run off.
“Sorry, Harry. They just forgot . . .” Ron said quietly.
Understanding dawned simultaneously for the twins, and their apologies overlapped each other.
“Sorry, Harry . . .”
“We didn’t mean anything . . .”
“It’s just what you did . . .”
“. . . was fantastic.”
Both twins looked sincere, as Harry stared at them. God, they make me uncomfortable. They’re loud and just too much when they’re together. But it seems they just want to have fun. They don’t mean any harm. If they could do it without all the fireworks, it would be a lot easier to handle.
He shrugged. “S’okay.”
George raised his eyebrows. “Do it again?”
Harry closed his eyes briefly, then nodded. All three Weasleys grinned back at him.
After two more gnome launchings, though neither went as far as the first one, Harry said. “No m . . . more.” When the others looked at him quizzically, he added, “Your m . . . mum.”
Each of them nodded knowingly, and Fred said, “She would not be pleased to find out, so mum’s the word.” George made a gagging motion in response to the horrible pun, while Harry and Ron just grimaced.
As the morning progressed, the air was filled with gnomes being flung by the four young wizards. It was hard, dirty work but oddly satisfying. To Harry, it was an almost perfect release from the pressures, adjustments, and changes that had dominated his life over the past week. The nearly mindless exercise seemed to dissipate the physical edginess these changes had created, plus it helped to relieve the emotional stress that accompanied them.
The operable word, though, was ‘almost.’ What kept the task from being a perfect stress reliever was the presence of the teasing, exuberant, boisterous, and undeniable physical presence of the twins. Throughout the morning, Harry had edged further and further away from the loud duo, because their carefree quips and continual banter rattled in his brain like a non-stop table tennis match with the sound amplified to a painful level.
Unfortunately, the twins seemed to be velcroed to him, because no matter how many times he had moved, within minutes they were again too close, too loud, and making him feel claustrophobic even while they worked in the open area of the garden. The only redeeming aspect of all this, Harry thought, was that the twins were clueless about their impact on him. I’m sure they’re not trying to do anything to me. It’s just the way they are. I really don’t know how much more of this I can take, though.
Harry paused to rub the bridge of his nose, then massaged his temples, in a desperate attempt to hold off what promised to be a whopper of a headache. Harry became aware that the noise level had decreased substantially. Looking around, he saw the three brothers standing a short distance from him, hands in pockets and scuffing their heels in the dirt.
He walked over to them.
Ron said, “Looks like we got them all.”
Fred added, “Bet it will take them longer to return this time.”
George continued. “I don’t think they’ve ever been launched so far before.”
The twins combined to finish. “Thanks for your help, Harry.”
Harry looked down, wishing he felt more comfortable with the twins. “S . . . sure.”
Fred spoke up, “Well, we have places to go and things to do.”
“It’s been spiffing, mates.” George signed off with a salute, and the duo left for parts unknown.
Ron filled the resulting silence. “Must be close to lunch. Want to check?”
Harry nodded, and they ambled over to the area behind the house where Ginny was sitting at the picnic table. Ron looked at her hopefully, while he sat next to his sister. Harry sat across from them.
“Has Mum started lunch yet?” Ron asked.
Ginny ghosted a smile and shook her head. “It was just eleven a few minutes ago when I came out here.” She looked at Harry. “Are you done degnoming the garden?”
Ron answered before Harry opened his mouth, but both missed the flare of irritation that briefly crossed Ginny’s face. “Thanks to Harry we don’t think this lot will be back for a while. He sent three of them farther than I ever saw before.”
Ginny looked confused. “He threw them farther than you and the twins?”
Ron shook his head and said enthusiastically, “No. He used magic.” Ginny’s eyebrows shot up and she quickly looked at Harry, only to see the boy’s head drop to his chest. “We’d scare them out of their holes, then Harry would levitate and Banish them way over the fence. It was awesome.”
Ginny’s eyes had narrowed at that point. “It’s a good thing Mum didn’t catch you doing that.” Ron’s head jerked up, as did Harry’s. “She wouldn’t have liked you taking advantage of Harry’s magical abilities, when she wanted you to do the work yourselves.” She turned to Harry. “I hope they apologized for doing that.”
Ron answered instead. “That’s why we stopped doing it that way.”
Ginny glanced briefly at Harry. She could see the sweat starting to form on his brow, so she changed the subject. “Let’s talk some more about the wizarding world. Would you like to do that, Harry?”
He looked at the red haired girl, with thanks in his eyes, and nodded.
Ginny began the new topic by telling Harry about their oldest brother. “Bill was Head Boy at Hogwarts, then he joined Gringotts . . . Oh, do you know that’s the wizarding bank?”
“W . . . went there with the professor. Talked with the g . . . goblins.”
Ron exclaimed, “They talked to you?”
Harry nodded.
“They’re mean little buggers.”
Harry shrugged. “They were n . . . nice to m . . .me.”
Ron looked at him wide-eyed. “They even scare Bill a bit.”
Ginny interrupted, “So, you understand galleons, sickles, and knuts?”
Harry couldn’t hold back a snort. “Confusing.”
The two youngest Weasleys looked surprised. Finally, Ginny asked, “Why?”
“Tw . . . twenty-nine and seventeen, not ten.”
Both looked confused, until Ginny’s eyes brightened. “Muggle money is based on ten of something equalling something else?”
“Yeah.”
Harry narrowed his eyes in concentration. Then he quietly asked Ron and Ginny, “Is anyone c . . . coming up behind m . . . me?”
Ron’s eyebrows flew up his forehead. “It’s the twins. How did you know?”
“I could feel them.”
Ron’s and Ginny’s eyes widened while their jaws dropped.
Harry added, “My cou . . . sin used to ch . . . chase me.”
The siblings’ expressions turned sad. A few seconds later, the twins plopped down on the bench on either side of Harry. He watched them carefully, moving his head from side to side, trying to discern if they had anything in mind other than visiting. He shifted around in an attempt to create more room between himself and the twins but with no luck.
Sitting that close to them, Harry became aware for the first time how solid the twins were. While not nearly as tall as Ron, despite the two year age difference, George and Fred were much stockier than either Ron or Percy, a fact that somehow got obscured by their constant twinspeak dialogues and their outlandish sense of humour.
Harry could feel tiny rivulets of moisture moving down his back and dampening his shirt. Somehow, the air seemed heavier, and even though they were outside, it pressed in on him, creating a claustrophobic feeling.
“Are GinGin and Ronnikins telling you about the wizarding world?” asked one of the twins, but Harry couldn’t tell which one.
The same voice but coming from his other side continued the verbal game. “Of course, since they’re such ickle babies, most of what they say is wrong . . .”
“So, you’ll have to trust us if you want the straight scoop.”
Harry felt like his head was being pulled from side to side, while he was trapped between the bigger, older twins. The space between them seemed to compress, increasing the pressure around him. He felt his cheeks heat up and sweat form on his forehead. The moisture dripping down his back increased, and his head began to pound, as their words reverberated in his brain.
He looked up to see Ron laughing at the twins’ joking, but Ginny looked upset about something.
Harry bolted from the garden table, sprinting towards the far end of the property. As he ran away, he could hear Ginny yelling at the twins.
“What did Mum tell us? He’s not used to people. And you two gits . . .” Her voice faded as the distance between them increased.
Harry knew he was getting close to the pond when he reached the scrubby field with its gnarled trees and wild oat-coloured grass. Finally, he sprinted up the rise that led to the pond and stopped at the crest, breathing heavily. The boy bent over, with his hands on his knees. Once he caught his breath, he gazed at the pond, a faint smile on his face, and walked down to the shore. Sitting down, Harry let the smells, sounds, and the tranquil feeling of the place sweep over him.
He became aware of the moisture in the air, along with the smell of leafy trees and earth, the gentle lapping of the water on the sand, and the birds talking to each other.
Harry took deep, calming breaths and closed his eyes until his heart and head stopped pounding. Finally opening his eyes again, he moved his head in a gentle sweep from his far left to the far right, committing the scene to memory. The irregularly shaped depression in which the pond sat was the centrepiece, with the green horseshoe formed by the trees and undergrowth providing the background. The expanses of blue sky occasionally interrupted by slow moving white clouds, and the sparkling cobalt colour of the pond itself gave the scene perspective and contrast.
His emerging smile was frozen by the feeling that someone was approaching him. Harry grimaced and turned around. A few seconds later, the hesitant form of Ginny Weasley appeared at the crest and stopped suddenly when she found Harry frowning at her.
She gazed at him with a questioning look that seemed to ask, ‘May I join you?’
Harry nodded, and she walked slowly towards him, finally sitting several feet away. “They didn’t understand,” she said. “They do now.”
He nodded.
The twins hadn’t felt threatening, just . . . overwhelming. Harry thought back to the claustrophobic feeling the twins engendered in him and shuddered.
“They’re not bad blokes, just enthusiastic.” She laughed. “They actually thought they were being low-key.” Ginny snorted in a somewhat lady-like fashion. “I guess for them it was. They asked me to tell you they were sorry, but I’m sure they will say something to you themselves.”
“S’okay.” He glanced at the red head. “N . . . not used to that.”
Ginny nodded. “That’s what I told them.”
He smiled to himself. “I heard.”
Ginny’s head turned quickly towards him, her cheeks rapidly colouring. “Oh,” she said meekly.
“Thanks,” he said softly.
Ginny’s shock quickly turned into a smile, and the two magical children settled into a comfortable silence.
The sun had moved directly overhead when the hypnotic effects of the pond were broken by the sounds of someone approaching.
Seconds later Ron announced, “Lunch is ready.”
Both kids roused themselves, but before they started back, Harry whispered, “It’s nice here.”
Ginny beamed at him. “It’s my favourite place.”
Harry noticed for the first time how much her eyes sparkled when she smiled.
As soon as they stepped into the kitchen, Mrs Weasley smiled a welcome, then looked at them more closely. ‘Both of you got too much sun. You look like you’re from a Valentine’s card. Come over here and I’ll take care of it.”
Ginny walked over to her mum without a second thought until she noticed Harry hadn’t moved. She caught his eyes and mouthed, ‘It’s okay.’
He watched closely as Mrs Weasley performed the spell on Ginny. Once completed, Ginny twirled around and said, “No more scarlet woman.”
Her mum exclaimed, “Ginny! That’s no way for a young witch to talk.” Then in a much softer voice, she said, “Come here, please, Harry.”
Noticing that Ginny’s face had returned to its usual porcelain complexion, Harry walked slowly over to Mrs Weasley, feeling his muscles tightening with each step.
When he reached Mrs Weasley, she said, “I am not going to touch you, dear. You’ll just feel cooler, and the sting from the burn will be gone. Is that alright?”
Harry closed his eyes and nodded. A second later a cooling feeling moved down his body, from his head to his toes. He opened his eyes and saw Mrs Weasley’s expression change from sadness to questioning.
“Everything okay, Harry?” she asked.
He nodded. “Thanks.”
Her smile replaced her concerned frown. “Good! Why don’t you and Ginny eat in here? You’ve had enough sun for a while.”
Harry sat at the table across from Ginny, and Mrs Weasley placed a platter of sandwiches in front of them, plus a bowl of crisps, and a jug of juice.
“Tuck in, kids.”
Harry stared at the platter for a few seconds, then scowled, quickly grabbing a sandwich from the top of the stack and a handful of crisps, after Ginny had helped herself. He poured juice into Ginny’s glass without thinking about his action, then filled his glass. I’ve got to get use to how much food they have here. This isn’t strange. It’s the Dursleys that were different. They fed me barely enough to keep them from getting in trouble.
A flash of anger surged through the boy. Why is everything so difficult?
Harry’s peripheral vision caught something flying towards his glass of juice. Instead of letting it swan dive into the drink, Harry snatched it out of the air, the crisp crumbling in his hand. He looked up quickly and saw Ginny’s smirk changing to an unbelieving stare.
Just before the incident, Ron and the twins had returned from outside. They now stood part way into the kitchen, each with his mouth open. Seconds later the comments began.
“Did you see that, George?”
“With my own eyes, Fred,” replied his bookend.
“A remarkable feat of hand-eye coordination . . .”
“. . . certainly quicker than any Seeker we’ve seen,” finished the other twin.
Ron interrupted. “Oi! Give it a rest.”
All three boys looked at their sister, whose face had taken on the same sunburned hue it had prior to Mrs Weasley’s ministrations.
Ron approached the table, with the twins trailing behind him. “Harry, have you heard of Quidditch?”
Ron sat down on Harry’s side of the table but gave him plenty of room. The twins slid in next to Ginny. All three grabbed a sandwich, some crisps, and began to eat.
Harry’s eyes darted from Ron to the twins and finally to Ginny. I knew I couldn’t trust these guys.
Ginny’s comment broke into his thoughts. “Quidditch is our wizarding sport. It will sound unbelievable when we describe it, but it does exist. George and Fred play on their house team at Hogwarts, but Ron is the family expert.” She turned and looked fiercely at her brothers. “Everything they say will be true. Right, boys?”
All three quickly and emphatically nodded their heads in agreement.
Ron started, “The first thing to understand is that the game is played in the air. All the players fly on broomsticks.”
Two thoughts collided in Harry’s head. His eyes immediately narrowed and a feeling that combined anger and disappointment swept over him.
Even after Ginny’s warning, Ron’s yanking my chain.
The second thought was far more subtle.
Flying on a broomstick feels familiar. Maybe it’s from those old dreams I used to have.
His surging feelings calmed down. When he noticed the four Weasleys looking at him, Harry mumbled, “G . . . go on.”
Ron smiled and started his explanation, an earnest and excited expression on his face. “You see, there are seven players on each team.” He went on to explain each position, finishing with, “The Seeker position is considered the most important, usually he is the best flyer on the team. His responsibility . . .”
“Or hers,” Ginny interrupted, an irritated expression on her face.
The twins turned away from their sister, trying to hide their smiles. Ron’s face instantly turned red. “Uh, yeah. Anyhow, the Seeker’s main job is to catch the Golden Snitch. It’s a small ball with wings, about this size.” He made a circle the size of a small plum with his fingers. “It’s wicked fast and darts all over the place. Sometimes you can’t even see it. The Seeker that catches the Snitch ends the game and gains one-hundred and fifty points for his . . .” he looked nervously at Ginny, “or her team, which usually means that team wins. Got all that?”
Harry nodded. It sounds fun. Flying around would be great.
Harry had immediately learned when he first arrived at the Weasleys’ that Ron’s face told exactly what he was thinking or feeling. Right now, he was thinking hard. Then, he looked at Harry.
“You don’t know much about the wizarding world, do you?” It wasn’t a sarcastic question, since Ron’s voice showed only curiosity.
Harry shook his head. “D . . . didn’t know I was a wi . . . wizard.”
Ron’s face rapidly scrolled through several emotions — confusion, shock, and finally understanding. “We can tell you everything you need to know. Would that help?”
Harry stared at the red headed, freckled-faced, lanky boy. He’s not making fun of me or taking the mickey. His eyes don’t show that.
Harry nodded his head.
“Good!” Ginny said. “You can tell us about yourself, too.” She hesitated. “If you want to, that is.”
Ron, Ginny, and the twins talked for a long time about the wizarding world and their family, jumping from one topic to another in kind of a free-form discussion. They started off describing each member in their family, returning to Gringotts when they talked again about Bill, then moved on to goblins, the money used with its confusing names and what the coins were worth.
The Ministry of Magic and its different departments were discussed, especially Mr Weasley’s work with the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. The twins provided most of the information about wands and spells, and Ron went on for a long time about Quidditch, especially some team called the Chudley Cannons.
When the conversation veered to blood relations, Ginny said, “Pureblood is when both parents are witches and wizards who have come from magical families. We’re purebloods, for instance.”
Harry was going to ask what he was, when Ron interrupted, a scowl on his face. “Most purebloods think they’re better than everyone else. Families like the Malfoys,” Ron’s mouth turned down, “think everyone else should be eliminated.”
Harry immediately felt anger towards the Malfoys, thinking their attitude was similar to the Dursleys’ hatred of magic and magical people.
Ginny said quietly, “Harry, this is probably pretty confusing for you, with all this new stuff. But don’t worry, it’ll start making sense.”
The corners of his mouth turned up instinctively. He looked at the petite red head and nodded.
Ginny could have sworn that Harry was going to say something, but instead, he remained quiet, looking self-conscious. She filled in the sudden gap by asking, “Do you want to hear more about the wizarding world?”
Harry nodded.
Between bites of their third corned beef sandwich, the twins gave him their impression of Hogwarts, and the classes they had taken.
“Defence Against the Dark Arts should be a cool class, but each year we’ve had a new teacher,” George said.
“And the two we’ve had were horrible,” Fred added. “Snape is the Potions Professor . . .”
“That’s Professor Snape,” his mum interrupted, without looking up.
Both twins responded, “Yes, Mum.”
Then George whispered, “He’s a greasy git, who hates Gryffindors.”
That comment led to a discussion of the four houses. Harry remembered the information Professor McGonagall had given him during her visit at number four, but let the twins continue, because their descriptions were decidedly different than the professor’s.
“Ravenclaws are brainiacs, no fun at all,” Fred said. “Hufflepuffs are boring. No one wants to be in that house.”
George picked up the discussion without missing a beat. “We’re in Gryffindor . . .”
Ginny interrupted, “So were Mum and Dad.”
George glared at her. “Gryffindors are the bravest, have the most courage . . .”
“. . . and are the best looking,” Fred completed with a smirk.
The twins looked at each other, and both said, “Slytherin.”
Fred started. “They get the worst students . . .”
“The darkest ones, whose families supported You Know Who,” George continued.
Who is ‘You Know Who?’ Harry wondered. What kind of name is that?
Fred completed the summary. “You do not want to be in Slytherin.”
Harry looked at the four Weasley siblings. Each wore the same expression of disgust at the thought of Slytherin House.
Ron quickly moved the conversation back to Quidditch, talking about the house rivalries, since all his older brothers, except Percy, played the sport.
The conversation continued until everyone had finished lunch. Harry got up and deposited his lunch plate and utensils in the sink, earning sceptical looks from the four Weasley siblings, who reluctantly followed his example.
George then announced, “It’s time for you to learn how to fly a broomstick, Harrikins.”
“An excellent idea, my brilliant twin,” Fred added.
“No, it’s not,” their mum interjected, rather strenuously. “I don’t want him learning from the likes of you. There’s no telling what you’ll tell the poor boy. He’s likely to fall off the broom and hurt himself.” Mrs Weasley didn’t see Harry flare up with irritation at her comments.
The twins traded silent glances, and George started their counter arguments. “Mum, you know how seriously we take flying. We would teach Harry properly . . .”
“…just as we did with Ronnikins,” Fred continued.
“And Ron’s a fine flyer due to our teaching, especially considering his innate clumsiness,” George added.
“Besides, it would be so much better if Harry knew how to fly before he got to school and would be forced to learn only in a large group without much individual attention,” Fred concluded.
Harry moved his eyes from twin to twin, impressed for the first time. Their argument was very convincing. Harry laughed to himself. It almost sounded like they had rehearsed it, the way they finish each other’s sentences and thoughts. They’re much smarter than they like to let on.
The twins caught Harry looking at them and both winked, almost as if they had read his thoughts.
“Well, alright,” Mrs Weasley said. “You did make some good points, and Ron has been flying for years.” She drew herself up. “But if anything happens to this boy . . .”
“We know, Mum . . .”
“Our lives won’t be worth a plug knut.”
Mrs Weasley sighed. “Okay, off with you then. Oh, wait. Sun Screen charms first.”
The four Weasleys got in line, as their mother tapped the top of each head and mumbled some words Harry couldn’t quite hear.
“Come here, Harry. You especially need it after getting burned earlier.”
Harry moved slowly towards Mrs Weasley, irritated by the tense feeling sweeping through his body. Standing in front of her, Harry closed his eyes, when he felt her wand tap the top of his head. The next thing he felt was . . . sticky, from head to toe, almost like he had been coated by something. Yet, when he touched the skin on his arm, it felt the same as always.
Thinking back to the times he had got sunburned while doing yard work or washing his uncle’s company car, Harry decided magic could be right useful at times.
He caught up with the group, just in time to hear Ginny say, “Sounds like fun. Can I join you?”
“Nah, you’re too young,” George immediately answered.
“You could get hurt, little Ginnikins,” Fred added.
“You can watch us,” Ron said.
Ginny looked furious but didn’t say anything.
Harry looked from one boy to the next, expecting them to start laughing and invite her to join them.
Instead, Ron looked at Harry. “Do you want to play?”
Harry flinched, uncomfortable with being asked a direct question. He stared at Ron. When he didn’t sense any malicious feelings, he nodded his head.
The boys, with Ginny trailing about ten metres behind, went to the shed and pulled out four brooms.
As if struck simultaneously by the same thought, each of the boys stared wide-eyed at Harry, who was looking at the broom in confusion.
“You’ve never flown before, have you?” asked Ron quietly.
Harry shook his head.
“Don’t worry,” George said. “We’ve been flying for years . . .”
“So we’ll teach you,” Fred finished. “It’s fun.”
Ginny, who was still scowling, demanded, “Why can’t I fly, too?”
“You’re too young.”
“You could get hurt.”
“We’ve got to protect you. Mum would be furious if we let you.”
“Why?”
Four sets of eyes turned quickly to Harry.
“She’s a girl.”
Ginny snorted.
“She’s our little sister.”
Harry looked back at Ginny but couldn’t figure out what she was feeling from her expression. ‘Thanks,’ she mouthed at him. He just shrugged.
After Harry turned away, Ginny continued staring at the boy, thinking that was a very nice thing he had tried to do for her. A warm feeling came over her, but it was quickly replaced by her irritation with her git brothers. Then, she smiled as an idea began to unfold.
After a short hike, they arrived at the grassy paddock. Ron and the twins proved to be very good teachers, showing Harry exactly what to do each step of the way, from calling the broom to him, getting on it, and how to kick off, while retaining control of the broom. After half an hour of instruction, the boys let Harry fly on his own. As soon as he was airborne, a feeling of freedom washed over the boy. It felt so comfortable, but he had no idea why he felt that way.
Fred hovered next to Harry, about two metres off the ground. “Lean forward a bit, and the broom will move in that direction. The faster and lower you move, the faster the broom will go. Understand?”
Harry nodded and slowly leaned forward, surprised and elated when the broom responded to his movement, though his face remained expressionless. Fred continued to be his shadow. Letting the feeling of familiarity wash over him, Harry quickly leaned further over the broom and was rewarded with a jump in acceleration and a feeling of elation.
Instinctively, Harry leaned to his left as he started to approach a copse of trees and the ancient Cleansweep responded by curving gently in that direction. As soon as he was heading away from the trees, Harry pulled up on the broom and leaned down almost on top of it. The broom shot up at an increasing speed, leaving George behind and all three brothers and their sister open-mouthed in shock.
Harry rocketed past the tree line and levelled out, examining the surrounding countryside from his vantage point and feeling better than he could remember. With a silent ‘whoop,’ he pointed the broom downward and leaned forward. The grass covered ground roared toward him, and Harry pulled the broom back to horizontal, carved a figure eight, and landed lightly on the ground.
Seconds later, he was attacked by four incredulous Weasleys.
“How did you do that?”
“When did you learn?”
“We thought you’d never been on a broom before.”
“Harry, that was amazing.”
The boy looked over to the person who had made the last comment. Ginny’s smile shamed the sun. He smiled back with his eyes, his lips curling slightly upwards.
Ron laughed. “Maybe you can teach us, instead.” Then, a curious expression crossed his face. “What I don’t understand is how you did that. You never flew at your Muggle relatives’ house, did you?”
Harry felt like exploding with laughter. His first thought was that the Dursleys would have locked him in the cupboard and thrown away the key. Just having a broomstick would have set them off. Harry’s features, though, remained blank, and he quickly realized he needed to respond to the question.
He shook his head.
George spoke up, “Well, however you learned, that was wicked. Want to play tag?”
The other boys nodded and kicked off into the air. Harry looked back at Ginny and noticed the disappointment on her face. She stomped over to the nearest tree, plonked down on the ground next to it, and started ripping apart the innocent leaves that lay around her.
The Weasley boys and Harry spent several hours playing tag and a simplified game of Quidditch. About half way through, Ginny returned to The Burrow. The grass beneath her feet seemed to crumple from the anger rolling off her.
From his elevated position while flying above the paddock, Harry caught a glimpse of Mr Weasley walking towards the makeshift Quidditch pitch. Harry caught Ron’s eyes and nodded in the direction of the man.
“Hey, guys,” Ron shouted, “Dad’s coming. We should stop.”
The four boys landed near the edge of the field, close to where Mr Weasley was approaching and watched him expectantly.
As soon as he got close enough, the tall wizard gestured for them to join him. “Time to come back to the house, boys. Your mum has some more chores for you.” He smiled good-naturedly at the inevitable chorus of complaints, and the five of them headed back to The Burrow.
Mr Weasley turned to Harry with a smile. “How did you like flying, lad?”
Before Harry had a chance to respond, the compliments were flying from the three brothers.
“He’s a natural, Dad.”
“He flies better than any of us.”
“We think he’s part bird.”
Four sets of eyes immediately stared at George, who had uttered that last statement. He grinned. “Well, you know what I mean.”
Harry enjoyed listening to the easy banter and teasing that flowed among the four Weasley males, especially Mr Weasley’s openness in both teasing his sons and getting it back from them. He’s the complete opposite of Uncle Vernon in almost every way possible. I can’t imagine my uncle acting like that with me or even with Dudley.
When the group reached the area behind the house, Mr Weasley paused. “Boys, you go in and find out what your mum wants. Harry, come with me, if you would, lad.”
Ron and Harry exchanged curious looks. Ron shrugged his shoulders, as if to indicate he had no idea what his dad wanted, and headed into the house with his brothers. Harry walked over to Mr Weasley.
“Harry, my boy, I need your expertise with some new ekelectric gadgets that recently came into my possession. Would you come with me to the shed?”
Harry nodded, smiling to himself. He has more Muggle electronics, I bet, and probably doesn’t have a clue what they are.
Mr Weasley turned on the lights inside the shed with a wave of his wand. “Harry, I, uh, I’m not sure what some of these items are, and I was hoping you would tell me what they do.” The man almost looked sheepish while making his request, but it was offset by his obvious enthusiasm and curiosity.
“S . . . sure, Mr Weasley.”
“Good lad. I had hoped you would. I obtained several of these objects during our last raid. You see my department gets tips about Muggle articles that have been charmed to do things that could hurt, embarrass, or occasionally even kill Muggles. Biting teacups would be an example of what we usually deal with. When a Muggle would try to sip the tea, the cup would latch onto the poor person’s lips and not let go. Quite painful, as you can imagine. Anyhow, I’ve eliminated the charms on these articles, so they are not a hazard anymore, but I’m stumped by what some of them are used for.”
“Want to show m . . . me?”
Mr Weasley’s eyes lit up. “That would be great.” He grabbed a box-like device from his workbench. “What does this do?”
Mr Weasley handed the box to Harry, who already knew what it was. The Dursleys had one for less than a week. Dudley had smashed it on the floor when he couldn’t figure out how to operate the machine.
“Th . . . this is an answering ma . . . machine.” Mr Weasley stared blankly at Harry. “It works with a te . . . telephone.”
“Oh, yes, a fellytone. For talking with people, right?”
Harry nodded. “Wh . . . when you’re n . . . not home, it answers the phone.” He flipped the top open. “See?” Harry pointed at the recording tape inside. “You record a mes . . . message.”
Mr Weasley’s eyes brightened. “And it plays when someone calls but no one answers the fellytone.”
Harry’s lips turned up slightly, and he nodded his head. “The caller leaves a mes . . . sage.”
“So you can listen to it when you get home,” Mr Weasley said, completing the thought. “How ingenious!” Then Mr Weasley frowned. “The wizards we caught had charmed this talking part to put people to sleep. It really confused the Muggles when they woke up standing in front of this machine and having no idea why they had fallen asleep.”
Harry smiled at the wizard and his open enthusiasm for Muggle electronics. It’s nice talking with him. I really wish I could get over the feeling that he’s going to do something to me.
Mr Weasley’s expression became more serious. “I wanted to discuss your flying.”
Harry looked at the man, curious and a little shaken by the abrupt change in subject. He’s not going to forbid me to fly, is he? Maybe he’s upset because Fred said I was a better flyer than they were, and he’s going to tell me to hold back, just like the Dursleys did.
The man continued in his usual gentle voice. “You remember that Mrs Weasley and I knew you and your parents?”
The question startled Harry. I thought we were going to discuss his electrical stuff. Nevertheless, he nodded his head. I’d forgotten they knew my parents. He reached down and rubbed his suddenly roiling stomach.
Mr Weasley remained the same distance from the boy but knelt down, so they were at the same height. “Would you like me to tell you a story about you flying?”
He’s seen me fly when I was little? He nodded his head. “Yes, please.”
Harry closed his eyes to calm the thoughts that were swirling through his head. Most of him wanted to hear stories about flying, when he was young and his parents were still alive. It’s my parents. I don’t know anything about them.
He looked up and noticed Mr Weasley looking at him, as if he were trying to read his mind.
“Any time you want me to stop telling a story, just let me know. Harry, these are wonderful memories, so I hope they make you happy. Okay?”
He just wants me to know about my parents and my life with them. He doesn’t want to hurt me or make me feel bad.
“Okay.” He tried to smile at the man but was pretty sure his mouth didn’t cooperate.
Arthur smiled. “Your dad taught you to fly when you were very young — two, three months old, as I recall. Of course, he cast a Sticking charm so you’d stay on the broom, and he walked next to you, supporting you with his hands. He only let you go about a foot or two off the ground, which had Cushioning charms on it. When your mum found out you could fly, she nearly hexed him, she was so mad. It became a running joke between them. Whenever your dad did anything that upset her, your mum would bring up the fact that he had taught you behind her back.
“On your first birthday, we were all out in the backyard, Mrs Weasley, Ron, Ginny, the Longbottoms. . . ” Mr Weasley’s face filled with sorrow, but he pushed it away. “Their son, Neville, will start at Hogwarts this year, and there were several other guests, also. Well, your dad loved to show you off, so he had you flying loops around the guests, figure eights, slow dives almost to the ground. Your mum tried to get mad at him, but she was laughing so much she couldn’t keep a straight face.”
Mr Weasley smiled at Harry. “I know it’s tough for you, lad. You don’t remember much about them, do you?”
Harry’s eyes looked down at the ground. He slowly shook his head. “N . . . nothing.”
“If you’d like, I’ll tell you stories periodically, if you’d like. They were good people, Harry, and they loved you dearly. You can get a lot of strength from that, my boy.”
Harry closed his eyes. When he finally opened them, the light was gone, leaving just a dull green colour. “My relatives n . . . never talked about th . . . them.”
Arthur scowled, then quickly brightened. “I have an idea. Each day after dinner let’s get together, and I’ll tell you a story about them. That way you’ll get a feeling what they were like, and maybe fill in that gap. Would you like that?”
The boy was stunned. He would do that for me? “Yeah, I would.”
Mr Weasley smiled. “So, Harry, when Ron said you were a natural flyer, you truly are.” He winked. “And so was your father.”
The man stood up. “Should we go back to the house?”
Harry looked up at him, the light back in his eyes. “Th . . . thank you, Mr Weasley.” Then he slowly reached out his hand, just short of halfway between them, the palm facing upward.
The wizard smiled back at the young man and slowly extended his hand towards the boy’s. Harry watched carefully but with a barely submerged hope as Mr Weasley’s hand moved towards his, finally hovering over it, palm down.
Suddenly, a realization bloomed. For the first time, he wasn’t afraid when a man’s hand was directed at him. He felt something changing inside of him, almost like a seed was blossoming in a weed-infested, desolate landscape. He looked up at the man and smiled.
The squeezing motion of the boy’s hand was quickly mirrored by the man’s. Several seconds later, both hands were retracted, but the boy felt a warmth he was unable to explain. All he knew was that it felt very, very good, as if he were surrounded by a weightless, comforting blanket.
“Let’s go in, son.”
As Mr Weasley and Harry walked back to the house, a comfortable silence accompanied them.
Mr Weasley is so different from my uncle. He’s the first man who doesn’t scare me, but I still feel like I have to watch him. With a jolt that shocked the boy and briefly took his breath away, Harry realized there was an important connection. He’s like Miss Rae — kind and smart and he cares about people. The small boy sighed. I really hope he doesn’t do what she did. I want to like him, but I don’t want to feel like that again. The boy shook his head. This is so hard. I want to feel safe with him, but I don’t yet. This is all happening too fast.
Mrs Weasley broke into his thoughts when Mr Weasley and he entered the kitchen. “Harry, dinner will be ready in an hour. Why don’t you rest up until then? I’ll call you when it’s ready.”
He nodded and had turned to go up the stairs, when Mr Weasley’s words reached him. “Thanks for explaining the fellytone reorder, Harry.”
The boy looked back to see the sincere, smiling face of Authur Weasley. He tried to smile but knew he didn’t quite make it. “You’re wel . . . come.”
Heading up the stairs, he thought, I’ve got to try. I’ve got to do this.
Once Harry reached his room, he put the completed Charms book to one side and pulled out his Transfiguration book. I bet Professor McGonagall is a strict teacher, so I better know what we’ll be studying.
He sat down and started reading the book, again trying to follow the instructions without using his wand or speaking the words aloud.
Harry had completed several chapters by the time Mrs Weasley called him down for dinner. He marked the page in the Transfiguration book and placed it on the desk. After washing up, he went downstairs to find the Weasleys already seated at the table. He stopped short and instinctively sucked in his breath. It’s okay. They aren’t going to do anything. I don’t have to make the meals for them, and I can eat as much as I want. This is not the Dursleys or the school cafeteria.
He squeezed his eyes briefly to stop the thoughts of the daily torture lunch had been at his school. He looked up to see the family members were already helping themselves to the various dishes. Mrs Weasley had two plates in front of her and was busy loading them with food. Harry noticed the plate was missing from the last open space at the table.
Harry laughed to himself. Mrs Weasley will make certain I get enough food. She’s as different from Aunt Petunia as Mr Weasley is from Uncle Vernon.
Ginny caught Harry’s eye, and she nodded towards the open place, almost saying it’s okay, nothing bad will happen. He nodded, feeling his lips curving slightly upwards, and took his place at the table.
“Here you go, Harry dear,” Mrs Weasley said, handing him a now heavy plate, containing several pieces of chicken, mixed vegetables, and potatoes made in a way he had never seen before.
“Thanks, Mrs Weasley.” Catching Ginny’s eye, he looked down at the potatoes, which were sliced and had a creamy cheese melted on them.
Ginny smiled. “Potatoes au gratin is one of my favourites. I really like the cheese.”
Harry’s eyes smiled back at her, knowing full well that Ginny had phrased the answer to his unspoken question in a way that didn’t reveal he had no idea what the potato dish was called.
His stomach was protesting, as usual, by the time Mrs Weasley felt he had eaten enough. I think she would feed me twenty-four hours a day if I’d let her. He smiled to himself. I eat as much here in a day as I did in a week at the Dursleys’, and Mrs Weasley’s cooking is great. I wish she’d let me help in some way. It feels weird not to cook, clean up, or do something, almost like I’m cheating.
He pushed his chair back, as Ron eyed the food remaining on his plate. “Thanks, Mrs Weasley. Th . . . that was great. C . . . can I help with anything?”
He noticed Mrs Weasley’s eyes looked sad for just a moment, before she pulled them into a warm smile. “No, dear, you go relax.”
Harry deposited his plate and other items in the sink, then made his usual retreat up the stairs. Once he was done and had washed his hands, he joined the family in the sitting room. Mr Weasley was reading the wizarding newspaper, the oddly named Daily Prophet. Those moving pictures still take some getting used to. I can’t figure out how they do that.
Mrs Weasley was knitting something that looked like a large shirt, and the four youngest Weasleys were playing Gobstones. Harry joined them, sitting on the floor behind Ron and Ginny, who apparently were teamed against the twins. Within minutes, it became obvious to Harry that the twins were cheating. One of the twins would start telling a rousing story, complete with wild gestures and pointing at objects away from the game. When Ron and Ginny would look in the direction the first twin was pointing, the other would make a few subtle changes in their favour.
After he saw this happen twice, Harry came up with a plan.
“George, Fred, what’s that on the m . . . mantel above the fireplace?” Harry asked innocently.
Both turned completely around, and Harry made a few adjustments to the stones, using his hand to wordlessly move them. Ginny saw what he did and mouthed ‘Were they cheating?’
Harry nodded, and she smiled, while raising her eyebrows. ‘Thanks,’ she whispered.
The twins turned back, and George explained, “That’s our family clock. Instead of telling us the time, it shows where each of us is. See all those hands pointed at home? Those are ours,” and he gestured around the room. “Bill’s and Charlie’s hands are pointed at sleep. See them?”
“Yeah. Th . . . that’s great. Thanks.”
While George described how the clock worked, Fred had studied the board, with an increasingly suspicious expression on his face. Finally, he looked directly at Harry and grinned, looking like a red haired Cheshire cat. ‘Good one,’ he mouthed.
Harry put on his Dursley mask and shrugged, trying to look confused by the twin’s comment.
Once the game was over, with Ron and Ginny winning for the first time, the twins had a whispered conversation. “We have other things to do, kiddies,” Fred advised, “especially since the odds now seem to be three to two.”
The twins grinned mischievously at Harry and left the room. Ron looked in confusion at both Harry and Ginny. “What did they mean by three to two odds?”
Both Ginny and Harry shrugged their shoulders. Finally, Ginny started to snicker. “Harry caught them cheating.”
The light went on in Ron’s head. “So, that’s why you asked about the clock.” He smiled. “You moved the stones?” Harry nodded. “Brilliant! Thanks, mate.”
Ron’s arm started to move, and Harry immediately shifted away from him, while Ginny looked sharply at her brother. Instantly, the three magical children deflated.
Ron’s arm dropped to his side.
Ginny sighed in relief.
And Harry whispered, “S . . . sorry.”
Brother and sister looked at the boy. Ron shook his head. “I know better . . .”
“S’okay,” Harry said quickly.
“You move without thinking, don’t you?” Ginny asked quietly.
Harry felt the heat rising towards his face, but he was determined not to be thrown by the direct question or flee the room, even though every fibre in his body was screaming to do just that.
“Yeah.” He looked closely at Ginny, then Ron. “It was b . . . better to stay away from th . . . them.”
They nodded silently. After a few moments, Ron’s eyes lit up. “Want to play some chess?”
“Sure,” Harry said. Ron started to grab the box with the chessboard and pieces. “If Ginny can play on my side.”
Ron stopped in mid-movement.
Ginny gasped, then smiled brightly. Harry tried to hold back a grin.
Ron shook his head. “Nah. You don’t want her on your side.”
Harry glanced at Ginny, who was rapidly turning red with anger. “I n . . . need all the help I c . . . can get.”
Ron looked up from setting the pieces on the board. “Yeah, you do.” He grinned. “Okay.”
Ginny beamed at Harry.
“Th . . . thanks,” Harry said, as Ginny and he grabbed the white pieces and began setting them up.
About mid-way into the first game, Mrs Weasley’s voice from the kitchen broke their concentration. “Harry, Professor McGonagall is making a Floo call. Come quickly into the kitchen, please.”
Harry heeded Mrs Weasley’s request and went into the kitchen.
“Ahhhhh!”
The boy stopped so quickly he almost lost his footing and fell over. He stared at the disembodied head of Professor McGonagall, sitting in the middle of the green-hued embers in the kitchen fireplace. She was trying desperately to keep from laughing.
Molly Weasley came to the rescue. “Oh, Harry, I should have explained what a Floo call was. What a shock that must have been.”
Harry finally pulled his eyes from the professor. “S’okay,” he said absently, then walked as close to the fireplace as he was comfortable.
“Sorry to alarm you, Mr Potter, but I wanted to respond immediately to the note your owl brought me.” She looked up. “Molly, please excuse me, but could I speak privately with Mr Potter? It will be for just a few minutes.”
“Of course, Minerva. Harry, I’ll be in the sitting room.”
Once Mrs Weasley had departed, Professor McGonagall said, “Before we start, I wanted to compliment you on selecting such a beautiful owl. Have you named her yet?”
“H . . . Hedwig.”
“After the saint?”
He nodded.
“Excellent name for her. It fits quite well. Now, on to your letter. It was very thoughtful to let me know you appreciated my accompanying you. I quite enjoyed our shopping excursion yesterday, Mr Potter. You conducted yourself admirably. You should be proud of yourself. ” Her voice dropped. “I realize all of this is new to you, and it’s all coming at the same time. Just remember there are people, including myself, who are available to answer your questions or just to talk with you.”
He nodded to indicate his understanding of her offer. I wish I could trust her. But she’s working with Dumbledore, and I don’t trust him. It’s hard to figure out who I can talk with.
“As for your second question, may I ask you one first?” Harry nodded quickly. “Good. Did Professor Dumbledore tell you anything about your bank account or family finances?”
“No.”
The professor looked pensive, then her expression turned sad. “I imagine the goblin gave you a little information. But, in general, all your educational expenses — tuition, books, supplies, everything — have been taken care of for the seven years you’ll be at Hogwarts. Your account at Gringotts also has more than enough funds for spending money, clothes, gifts, and other personal expenses. You won’t have any financial worries. To answer the question you’re probably thinking, both Professor Dumbledore and I, as the heads of Hogwarts, can access your account for educational related expenses. Does that answer your questions, Harry?”
“Yes. Th . . .thank you.” She didn’t mention anything about my Family vault. I wonder if she knows about it and isn’t telling me.
She could see the boy was overwhelmed and probably confused by another in what had turned into a continuing series of revelations about himself, his parents, and his life.
“Harry, are you thinking that these shocks — you being a wizard, being able to do magic, having a large bank account, going to a school you’d never heard of — will never end?”
Harry stared at the hearth in front of the fireplace and slowly nodded. He looked at the face in the fire. “It’s confusing. Everything’s ch . . . changing.”
The professor sighed. “I would imagine it is. All I can tell you is that it will begin to make sense in time. The more you are around magic, wizards and witches, and other parts of our world, the more familiar you’ll become with everything and everyone. You are being overloaded right now, so it will take time. All I can say is that whenever you feel it is becoming too much, see me. Do not hesitate. I understand you are going through huge changes, but it will get easier. Now, may I ask a favour of you?”
The boy looked confused but nodded his head anyway.
“Would you lift up that apple from the fruit bowl on the table behind you?”
Harry turned and picked it up.
Minerva smiled. “I should have been more specific. Would you levitate the apple — raise it up — and return it to the bowl using magic, no wand, no spoken words?”
The boy froze. Mrs Weasley must have told her what I did. The boy let out a deep breath. I can’t trust anyone. Are they going to report everything I do?
Angrily, he turned toward the table and reached out his hand. When he raised his arm, the apple shot out of the bowl and followed the path his arm made, first up several metres, then back to its place in the bowl.
“Thank you, Harry. That’s very good. Would you do another favour for me?”
“Uh huh.” He momentarily turned away from the witch, trying to hide the flash of irritation he felt.
“Please levitate the chair next to you, say twenty centimetres off the floor, then set it back down again.”
The boy repeated the same process. The chair slowly lifted off the floor, then returned when Harry lowered his arm.
“How did that feel?”
“Harder to lift,” he replied quickly.
“Harry, I understand why my asking you to do these things may upset you. Do you understand why I’m asking?”
The boy sighed. “To see what I can do, what it feels like.” She’s making me feel like a performing monkey. I hate this!
The witch smiled at her student. “You are a very bright young man, Mr Potter. Would you stand about three metres from the table and levitate the apple again and tell me what it feels like?”
He moved away from the table and repeated the exercise. “A little harder.”
“I thought so. What have we learned here, Mr Potter?”
“Heavier things or being further away makes it harder to do.”
“Right you are. Even with a simple charm like this, weight and distance require slightly more magic. You will find the more you do these charms, the easier they become.”
The boy was lost in thought. Finally, he asked, “You get stronger?”
“Exactly. Well done.”
“Should I pra . . . practice?”
“Let’s wait until the next time we see each other to discuss this further. We might decide to wait until you are actually at school.” The professor’s smile faded, replaced by an earnest expression. “Harry, I want you to promise me one thing. This ability does not make you a freak. I do not want you feeling like that. It is a gift, and you should feel very proud to be able to do these things. Can you do that for me?”
“This is good?” The boy had a hopeful yet doubting look on his face.
“Yes, it is, Harry.”
He shut his eyes. “Okay.” Then why doesn’t she want me to practice?
“The last item I need to discuss is your visit with the Headmaster. I will arrive here at nine o’clock tomorrow morning to escort you to Hogwarts. We will Floo to a restaurant in Hogsmeade, which is located by the school,” McGonagall explained. “After visiting a few shops there, we will proceed to the school. Once there, you will meet with Professor Dumbledore, and he will show you around the grounds and the castle.” Her voice softened. “Do you have any questions?”
“N . . . no.”
“Then, I will see you tomorrow morning at nine. Good night, Harry.”
“’Night.”
The professor’s face disappeared from the fire, and the embers returned to their usual colour. Harry went into the sitting room, feeling furious about having to perform for the professor and about her not wanting him to practice. They want to control me just like the Dursleys did. I’m going to go over the books until I know everything in them.
As he approached Mrs Weasley, he calmed his expression back to the neutral mask he learned at the Dursleys. “We’re d . . . done.”
“Thank you, dear.” Mrs Weasley returned to the kitchen.
Harry sat by Ron and Ginny who were still playing chess, but Harry’s thoughts were elsewhere.
Why would Dumbledore and McGonagall be able to get money from my vault? Have they been taking money from me since I was a baby and my parents . . .
Maybe that’s why they dumped me with the Dursleys and never checked up.
While Harry was watching and playing chess, Minerva McGonagall met with Albus Dumbledore.
“I spent a lot of time with Harry Potter yesterday and just finished speaking with him on a Floo call.”
“How is the boy doing, Minerva? I am still upset by what has happened between him and me.”
“There are so many things.” The witch stopped and thought. “We already knew Harry was powerful magically. He appears to be even more advanced than we thought. Molly Floo’d me earlier. Harry did wandless, wordless magic last night, using a charm he just had seen Molly do. He levitated dishes from the table to the sink.”
Dumbledore nodded his head. “I thought that was a possibility when he created such a powerful force with his accidental magic at his relatives’ house.”
“When I talked with Harry just now,” McGonagall continued, “I asked him to levitate first an apple, then a chair, then again from a greater distance. He did all of the charms with little apparent thought or effort, as if it were natural for him.”
“I’m sure it is natural, Minerva,” the Headmaster replied. “I have a strong suspicion that as Harry became older, he used magic to defend himself against the Dursleys, because anger powered the magic he displayed during my visit.”
“But, Albus, how could he do that?”
“If my theory is correct, he never learned what he could not do. All magical children are able to perform magic without thought, accidentally, as we say. As they get slightly older, we start limiting them through the use of wands, underage restrictions, and requiring specific words and movements. Harry has not been exposed to these restrictions, so he has continued to use his magic naturally. Your tests seem to support that theory. Plus, Lily and James were two of the most powerful, creative, and magically sophisticated students we have had at Hogwarts.”
“Where do we go from here with the boy?”
“I’m going to have to think about that. But my first thought is to have him keep those talents hidden from the general student population. It would not serve to have Voldemort learn Harry’s talents this early, no matter what condition Tom is currently in. I also wonder if you and I should offer additional training to our young student.” Albus paused, obviously lost in thought.
“These abilities also may serve to make him even more visible at school,” Minerva said, “beyond what his reputation will cause. I am afraid his reaction to this attention could serve to isolate him even further and drive him into that shell he has created. He truly feels he is a freak, as he puts it.” McGonagall’s eyes grew hard. “I could hex those Dursleys for what they did to that poor boy. The more I see Harry, the more I am convinced he operates on two different levels — the mute, unresponsive personality he shows the world, and a perceptive, sensitive, intelligent side he keeps hidden inside.”
Albus nodded his head. “I’ve seen flashes of that buried personality, too. I wonder if his magical power developed because he had to keep his true emotions hidden, especially his anger, due to the consequences he would suffer at the hands of his relatives. Alas, that is something else to ponder about our enigmatic Mr Potter. Do you have any other concerns or information?”
“Just that I told him about his Gringotts account, that his educational expenses were taken care of, and that he would not have any financial concerns. I am quite sure he thought he was knutless, since he has never had any money. He didn’t know anything about the value of money or banking, so we’ll have to watch him. He could easily be taken advantage of.”
The Headmaster added, “With everything new he has learned about himself recently, we need to ensure we don’t overload the poor boy.”
Dumbledore did not notice Minerva’s surprised reaction, and she replied tersely, “On the other hand, we do not want to withhold information from him.”
“Another issue to be considered, certainly. Well, I should return to my paperwork. Do you have any other topics to discuss?” Dumbledore steepled his fingers in front of him and looked directly at his colleague.
Minerva realized she was being told the discussion was over. “Just this last item. In addition to taking Harry through Hogsmeade tomorrow, I will see him on the eleventh. I have been invited to attend Ginny Weasley’s tenth birthday party. It will be a chance to see how he reacts in a large gathering. I’ll let you know what I observe.”
“Thank you, Minerva, for sharing this information about our Mr Potter.”
After the professor left, Dumbledore’s thoughts remained on his new student.
It wouldn’t be fair to burden Harry with too much information. I certainly saw the downside of doing so during our earlier meeting. He’s struggling as it is. After all, he just turned eleven.
His magic could be a problem, as well as a benefit. I will need to keep a close watch on that.
At least he seems to be accepting Minerva. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, given the treatment he received from his uncle.
This promises to be a very interesting year with Harry Potter arriving at Hogwarts. I am very much looking forward to talking with him tomorrow.
While Ron was contemplating his next chess move, Ginny glanced at Harry. He caught her eyes and mouthed, ‘When you’re done, come to my room,’ and raised his eyebrows. She nodded, and he excused himself and went upstairs.
After his trip to Diagon Alley with Professor McGonagall, Harry had thought about the many questions that excursion had created, especially the visit to Gringotts. He pulled out several sheets of parchment and his self-inking quill. He wrote on the top of the first page, Questions for Professor Dumbledore.
I know Ginny was upset about not going with us to Diagon Alley and then flying with her brothers and me. Maybe this will help her a little bit.
I wonder if Sammi is like Ginny now. She and Ginny are both easy to be with. There’s just something about them. I know they’re not the same person or anything, but I just get a good feeling from both of them. I wonder how Sammi’s doing. I hope she and her family are okay.
A soft knock stopped Harry from wondering. He walked over to the door and let Ginny in. She looked curious, as Harry shut the door and walked to the desk. He sat down, then blushed when he realized Ginny was still standing.
“You can sit on the bed, if you want,” he said.
“Thanks.” She smiled. “What’s up?”
Harry took a deep breath and slowly started talking. “Ginny, I n . . . need your help.”
Her eyes widened.
“So much has changed over the p . . . past week, and I have a lot of qu . . . questions.” He took another deep breath and looked directly at her. “You know this w . . . world. I d . . . don’t, so I hoped you’d help m . . . me with questions for D . . . Du . . . Dumbledore.”
Harry looked at her hopefully.
Ginny smiled. “Of course, I’ll help. You need to tell me what kinds of questions. Okay?”
He nodded and pulled open the middle desk drawer. Taking out a folded piece of parchment, he smoothed the sheet and read from it. “The m . . . main area is everything related to my parents.”
He looked up when he heard a small gasp. I knew I shouldn’t have asked her. What was I thinking of?
But then Ginny asked, “What did you want to learn about your parents?”
Harry stared into her eyes and saw only sincere interest. His answer was barely above a whisper. “Your dad told m . . . me a little bit about my p . . . parents. It was the first time, I’d heard anything about th . . . them. Oh, except when Dumbledore told me they were m . . . magical and d . . . d . . . dead,” he said with anger in his voice.
Ginny’s breath caught in her chest, but Harry didn’t notice since his eyes were focused on the floor. He added in a subdued voice, “I’d like to know more about them. I don’t even know what they looked like.” His voice trailed off.
Ginny’s eyes widened at the thought of not even knowing what your parents looked like, or the sound of their voices, their personalities . . . her stomach recoiled at the thought of how little Harry knew about his parents, other than they were dead. I’ve got to find pictures and anything else that would help Harry to learn about his parents.
Harry had fallen silent, so Ginny said, “It’s understandable that you want to find out more. I’m so sorry. We can write questions that you can ask Professor Dumbledore. That should help.” Harry nodded his head, obviously still lost in his thoughts. “What other areas should we ask about?”
Harry’s head snapped up. “The Dursleys,” he said, with a scowl on his face. “My Gringotts accounts.”
Since his eyes had returned to the piece of paper he had taken out of the drawer, Harry did not notice the look of surprise on Ginny’s face.
“I w . . . want to know about the w . . . wizarding world.” Ginny nodded her head. “Why was I,” he stopped, looking puzzled, “I don’t know, hidden from it? That doesn’t make sense to me.”
Ginny thought about what Harry had said. “So, you wonder why you were put with the Muggles, instead of a wizarding family?”
“Yeah. And ignored,” he said angrily, his face flushing slightly. “After all this time, I find out I’m a wizard. It’s confusing. The other part is why am I going to Hogwarts tomorrow? McGonagall said no other student is going early, so it’s not like it’s for all the new students, just me.”
Ginny stared at Harry. He can talk! A lot! And without stuttering. He sounded smart. She started processing this information, until she noticed Harry was staring at her.
His head dropped. “Did I say something wrong?”
Ginny felt like she’d had the wind knocked out of her. Her eyes widened, and she had to take several deep breaths to regain control of her surging emotions.
“I’m sorry, Harry,” she said in a small voice. “You didn’t say anything wrong. I was just thinking about what you said.” She stopped and thought hard about what she wanted to say next. Finally, she sucked up her courage. “You’ve been hiding inside yourself, haven’t you?”
Harry’s reaction mirrored Ginny’s previous response. He thought he wiped his hand across his damp forehead, but he wasn’t sure. His hand, along with the rest of his body, had lost all feeling. His mind seemed stuck on the one thought. I’m not going to tell her everything. I can’t do that. How would she feel about me? I don’t even know her that well. A persistent voice kept reminding him. You made friends with Sammi the first day you met her, same with Miss Rae. Ginny is the same type of person.
“I’m sorry.” A sad, soft voice interrupted his thoughts. “I shouldn’t have asked that. It was rude of me.”
Harry looked at the small girl and knew instantly that he had hurt her feelings. He shook his head, stood up and held up his hand to indicate ‘just a second, please.’ He went over to his trunk and pulled out the folder — the folder that no one other than himself had ever seen. He handed it to her.
Ginny opened the thick file and flipped through the paper clipped papers inside, her eyes getting bigger and bigger with each section she reviewed. Occasionally, the perceptive girl would briefly contemplate the boy sitting in front of her.
“You had to do that?” Ginny made sure her tone was sympathetic, interested, not accusatory or judgemental.
He nodded, feeling vulnerable, like the recurring dream he had of standing naked in the school playground. But he felt something else. A new strength? A feeling that it would be easier if he shared the burden? He wasn’t sure, except for one thing. He was feeling something different, something he’d never felt before.
“Why?” she asked softly.
Then her eyes widened in shock, and she gasped, as she answered her own question, her understanding of the reasons behind his actions searing through her. He had to hide how smart he was just so those git relatives of his wouldn’t get mad at him! I bet they would really be angry if they knew. No wonder he’s so good at hiding his feelings!
Harry watched as the girl’s emotions swung wildly from tears and overwhelming grief to an anger that was frightening in its intensity. She stared intently into his eyes, with a fierce expression.
“We will never do that to you.”
Harry returned her blazing gaze.
She whispered, “Anytime you want to talk about it, just let me know. Okay?”
“Thanks,” he whispered. He stifled a shudder. His biggest worry — that Ginny would walk out of the room and never talk to him again after reading his real papers — temporarily dissolved. He took a deep breath. “Help me with the questions now?”
Ginny nodded her head. “Yeah.”
Ginny sat down on the bed, and Harry pulled out the chair. An hour later, two pages of parchment were filled with questions about Harry, his parents, his life, relatives, bank accounts, the unusual treatment he was receiving, and a wide variety of other concerns.
They sat in silence for a few moments before Ginny finally summoned her courage. “How do you do your magic?”
Harry felt the anger flare again, then felt embarrassed. He knew Ginny was only curious, since she’d never seen magic done that way.
“Dunno. Hard to describe.”
“What does it feel like?” She tilted her head slightly to the side, as if that would give her a clearer view through Harry’s murky answer.
“I can feel it inside me. I just think what I want to do, and it happens.” The last words almost sounded like a question, with the upturn in Harry’s voice.
Ginny laughed. “I wish I could do it that way.”
Harry’s smile quickly became a frown. “Professor McGonagall said she and Dumbledore don’t want me to do that at school.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. She didn’t explain why. Maybe Dumbledore will tomorrow.” He shrugged his shoulders, confusion and anger reflected on his face.
Ginny thought hard about what Harry had said. He doesn’t know he’s the Boy Who Lived or anything that happened when he was a baby. If Professor Dumbledore doesn’t tell him tomorrow, I will. He has to know.
“That may be one of the reasons he invited you to Hogwarts.” Ginny paused for a moment, then ploughed on. “Harry, will you do me a huge favour?” She looked hopefully at the boy.
He shrugged his shoulders but looked curious. “What is it?”
“Will you teach me how to do magic the way you do?” There! She’d said it, and a look of resolve spread over her face.
A startled expression swept over Harry’s face, but he paused to consider her request. His face moved from sceptical to neutral and finally accepting. “I’ll try. I’m not really sure how I do it, so it will be hard to teach you.” He looked into her eyes, seeing how strongly she wanted him to do this. “But I’ll give it my best shot. Is tomorrow okay, after I get back from Hogwarts?”
“Thanks, Harry!” A smile lit her face, and she happily stepped forward to hug him.
He froze, his eyes wide at the sight of the young red head approaching him. Ginny immediately stopped, and her head dropped to her chest. “I’m so sorry, Harry. I forgot.” She looked up through teary eyes.
“It’s okay. I knew you weren’t going to . . . do anything bad.” He smiled, a small, shy smile. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
Ginny looked closely at the boy she had thought about more than she would ever admit. Once she was assured he was sincere, her smile returned, and she could see him brighten in response, his eyes alight in a way she hadn’t seen before. She sucked in her breath, mesmerised by their emerald depths and a feeling that went straight to her heart.
The two magical children quickly realized they were staring at the other. Both shifted uncomfortably, the heat rising quickly to their faces. Harry moved his eyes to the floor, while Ginny focused on a book on the desk.
A few moments later, Harry could feel Ginny’s gaze return to his face. He looked up. “I hope your visit with Professor Dumbledore goes well tomorrow,” she said quietly.
“It will,” he gestured towards the two pieces of parchment, “because of you.” His lips turned up in a closed-mouth smile.
An amazingly warm feeling flowed through her body. “Thanks, Harry.” A dazzling smile lit her face. She started to turn away to go to her bedroom.
“Ginny?”
She looked at him with curiosity. His hand reached out slowly towards her, then stopped, suspended in mid-air. It’s okay, Harry, you can touch me.
His expression grew determined. He closed his eyes briefly. I can do this. I want to do this.
His hand slowly, hesitantly moved towards her shoulder, finally reaching it, with a feather light touch and a slight squeeze. “Thanks, Gin.”
Their eyes locked.
Her hand moved instinctively to grasp his. “May I?” she whispered.
He nodded, not quite aware of the question.
Her hand lightly grazed his, then softly squeezed it. Cinnamon brown and emerald green eyes instantly widened, and the two children gasped at the feelings surging between them.
The moment passed, and the children sheepishly looked at each other, colour flushing their cheeks. They both smiled, without thought.
“Goodnight, Harry,” the red haired sprite whispered.
“G’night, Gin,” the boy replied. “Sweet dreams.”
She beamed back at him and squeezed his hand one last time. “You, too,” she said softly and left his room.
Both children knew something important had changed, though neither could put that feeling into words. What they did know, beyond any doubt, was that this change felt very, very good.
Chapter 13: Dumbledore
Author's Notes: Thanks to all who have supported Saving Harry through your reviews, nominations, and/or votes in this month's "poll." All are appreciated!
A special acknowledgement goes to Peter/MyGinevra: Harry's selection of Chocoballs when he visits Honeydukes is a tip of the hat to Peter and his wonderful story, The Hogs Head.
It's only appropriate, I think, to send a box of Chocoballs to cwarbeck, as thanks for her much appreciated beta work and her amazing turn-around times. Thanks, cel, hope they don't melt in transit!
After his conversation with Ginny, Harry lay in bed, a warm feeling surrounding him and providing a comfort he had not felt before. He quickly fell asleep and a dream soon began.
He stood by the edge of a cliff that overlooked the ocean. Other people were with him, including several who seemed to be around his age. But as always, he could not see any of them properly, so their presence was more felt than seen.
The activity in front and below them mesmerised Harry and his friends — at least he assumed they were friends — as they silently watched the drama of the water relentlessly attacking the cliff and the rocks. A few seconds later, everything turned pitch black. Harry couldn’t see anything around him, even the ocean, though he could still hear its fury. When his sight returned, he found himself sitting alone in a very small boat, not much bigger than a dinghy, with no oars, sails, or a motor that would help him navigate out the raging storm he was in.
The ocean surged, white-capped waves were propelled to the shore by a gale that pounded mercilessly at the boat and everything surrounding it. Harry looked towards shore. Several faint fires along the edge of the cliffs illuminated the people he had been with, who apparently were now searching the roiling waters for something.
Lightning lit the night sky, and Harry thought he saw something in the water about ten, twenty metres behind him. With the rolling thrum of thunder and another bolt of lightning, his eyes focused on the object he had first thought of as shadows or created by his overactive imagination.
Instead, a massive figure rose halfway out of the crashing waves, no more than ten metres behind the boat. With long, wild auburn hair and an equally long beard, the figure shockingly resembled Neptune, the Roman God of the Sea, and Harry’s eyes locked onto the large trident the man-monster held in his hand. With powerful movements of his arms, the figure seemed to be directing an orchestra. But in this case, it was the ocean that responded to his directions, not musicians.
Harry’s boat battled up the waves, then surged down them, like he was on a wet, windswept roller coaster ride. He desperately held on to the sides of the small boat, his knuckles turning ghostly white, becoming sore and frozen from the cold.
Harry looked back at the looming figure and a chill surged down his spine as he saw it had grown to an immense size. A second later, the boy was inundated by a towering wave that crashed over the boat, rendering everything into darkness.
Harry awoke from the dream with a start, shocked and sweating. He lay in the bed, gulping in air and trying to restore a semblance of order to his mind and body. Finally, he calmed down and eventually fell back asleep.
Harry woke up the next morning, with a warm feeling despite the early morning darkness evident through the bedroom window. Even though he had a vague recollection of a stormy dream, his first thoughts went directly to Ginny Weasley and their conversation from the previous evening.
There’s something about Ginny that feels right, like it did with Sammi until she left. I don’t know what to do, though, with Ginny and her family. What if Ron and the twins don’t want me talking to her or doing stuff together? Will they get mad at me? They don’t seem to let her do all the things they do, so maybe they would get mad. No telling what they’d do then.
It feels weird not doing chores around the house or cooking the meals. Mrs Weasley was nice to show me the cooking spells, but she doesn’t want me to help her. It was easy with the Dursleys. I’d just do whatever chores Aunt Petunia gave me, kept quiet, stayed out of their way, and tried to have them forget I was there. It was just easier that way.
Living with the Weasleys is completely different. It’s much better, but I’m not sure what they want from me.
Wait! I know what I can do for Ginny.
He sprang out of bed. Putting on his robe, Harry walked across the hallway and knocked several times, before a tousled-hair, very sleepy looking Ginny opened the door. She looked at him curiously, while Harry tried to make his mouth work once he realized he had woken the girl up.
“S . . . sorry. I didn’t know you were asleep.”
Ginny stifled a yawn and smiled faintly. “What did you want, Harry?” She brushed some of the hair from her face.
“You know I’m going to Hogwarts today with Professor McGonagall?”
Ginny nodded her head, her eyes brightening a little bit.
Harry ducked his head. Keeping his eyes on the floor, he blurted out. “I, ah, wanted to see if you wanted to come with us.”
Ginny’s eyes ignited and a bright smile lit her face. “Oh! Thanks so much, Harry. But I think this visit is just for you.” She watched in dismay as his face fell. “Harry, it’s so nice of you to think of me, and I really want to go with you. But I think if the professors wanted any of us to go — Mum, Dad, me — Professor McGonagall would have asked last night when she called.” She looked at the boy hopefully.
His sad look slowly disappeared, replaced by understanding and something else. Ginny wasn’t sure, but she concentrated and thought maybe that expression also showed determination.
Harry replied quietly, “That makes sense, especially since Professor McGonagall knows about Diagon Alley.”
Ginny nodded. “You’re right. But I’ll be thinking of you while you’re gone, and I want to hear all about Hogsmeade, the school grounds, and the castle. My brothers said it’s huge. So, remember everything because I want to hear what you thought of it the second you get home.”
By this point, Harry was fighting a grin. How does she say so many words without breathing?
“Don’t worry. I’ll remember everything.” He paused. “I, uh, I’m going down for breakfast then.” He looked down again, feeling a bit of heat rising up his neck towards his cheeks.
“I’ll just get my robe,” Ginny replied. “Hold on a second.”
In a moment, the red head returned, tying the cloth belt of her light blue cotton robe around her waist, and the two magical children went downstairs.
Breakfast went by quickly as Mr and Mrs Weasley described the school and reminisced a bit about their time there. When Harry was stuffed with waffles and thick slices of bacon, Mrs Weasley said, “Harry, you should get cleaned up now. Take a shower and brush your teeth. Ginny, you can help me clean the kitchen.”
Harry went upstairs and quickly got ready, putting on the best clothes he could find among Dudley’s hand-me-downs. He made sure to roll up the sleeves and the legs of the jeans, retrieved the list of questions from the desk, folded it, and placed the papers in his pocket. Since he still had almost an hour before Professor McGonagall was scheduled to arrive, Harry pulled the Transfiguration book off the desk and resumed studying and practicing the various transformations described in the chapter.
Before he knew it, Mrs Weasley’s voice was calling for him to come down. He returned the book to the desk, patted his pocket to make sure the parchment with the questions was still in it, took a deep breath, and left the room.
And almost walked directly into the waiting Ginny Weasley.
Both kids abruptly took a step back from each other and ducked their heads to hide their blushes.
“Excuse me,” said the soft feminine voice.
“Sorry,” echoed a similar but male voice.
Ginny looked up. “Harry, I just wanted to tell you to have a great time. You’re going to see so many incredible things. I’m so happy for you. Here’s a chance to learn so much.” She stopped and moved her gaze from the boy’s face to the floor next to him. “If, uh, if you start feeling . . . well, you know . . . worried or mad or anything, just know that I, uh, will be thinking of you . . . and maybe that will help.”
The last words were almost whispered. Ginny raised her head. “May I?”
Harry immediately knew what she was asking. He nodded his head slowly and hesitantly moved his hand towards hers.
When the two small hands met, Ginny squeezed softly. “You’ll be fine, Harry.”
“Harry?” Mrs Weasley’s voice carried an edge this time. “Professor McGonagall is waiting.”
Before Harry could respond or even begin to descend the stairs, Ginny yelled out, “We’re coming, Mum.”
The two witches turned to each other. Minerva arched an eyebrow while Molly smiled. “Ginny seems to be bringing him out just a bit.” Minerva nodded her head, her lips curving slightly upward.
The two children arrived at the foot of the stairs and were greeted by the two smiling women. “Ready, Mr Potter?”
“Yes, Professor.”
Just then, the clatter of rapid steps came from the stairs. “Good. Caught you before you left. I wanted to say goodbye, lad.” Mr Weasley smiled at the small boy. “Enjoy your visit and say hello to Professor Dumbledore for us, please.”
“I w . . . will, Mr Weasley.”
Harry looked around, almost embarrassed, then he seemed to gather himself and stand straighter. His hand rose close to his chest. The palm was open and facing toward the wizard.
Mr Weasley immediately responded. He kneeled and held his hand at the same height. As Harry slowly closed his hand, Arthur’s hand mirrored the movement.
“Have a good visit, Harry,” the wizard said.
The three witches looked intently at the gesture. Finally, the professor roused herself, and after a quick questioning glance at Molly, she said, “We should return by mid-afternoon at the latest. Have a good day, Molly, Arthur, Miss Weasley. Harry, I’ll go first. Our destination is The Three Broomsticks. Say it clearly, please.”
With a pinch of powder and a roar of green flames, the professor Floo’d to the tavern.
Harry grabbed a small of amount of powder from the canister on the mantel, but before leaving he turned to Ginny. Their eyes locked, and Ginny mouthed, ‘You can do this, Harry.’
He nodded at her, a faint smile on his face. “The Three Broomsticks,” he said, then he vanished in the green flames.
Keeping his arms held tightly to his chest made the trip go more smoothly for Harry, though it seemed much longer than when he Floo’d to Diagon Alley. Finally, he felt himself slowing down and then, with a slap of bright light, he was on the floor of The Three Broomsticks. Taking a deep breath, he got up slowly, as his balance returned to him after the disorienting trip.
He looked up and saw the professor’s curving lips quickly resume their usual straight line. “A slightly better arrival this time, Mr Potter. Do try to make it a goal to arrive standing up next time.”
Harry would have laughed out loud, because he was sure Professor McGonagall was teasing him, but he straightened out his facial features just in case he had misread her.
“I’ll try Pro . . . fessor.”
He jumped when a voice came from behind and to the side of him. “Hello, Professor, you’re here early this morning. And who do we have with you?”
While the woman had been speaking, Harry had edged away from her, so he now was standing to the side of Professor McGonagall. When Harry turned around, he tried but couldn’t stop himself from goggling. The sultry voice belonged to an equally sultry woman. Harry’s eyes moved from her curly blond hair to her deep blue eyes, which sparkled at him, to her full, smiling red lips. Her body was curvy and seemed to have more than enough of everything. Harry knew without a doubt he had never seen a woman like that in his life.
At that point, Harry realized he was staring, that the woman knew it, and even worse, out of the corner of his eye, he could see that the professor was watching him stare at the woman. Sweat immediately started pouring down his back, especially down the shallow ravine made by his spine, which felt both sticky and ticklish. He brushed his hand across his damp forehead, moving most of his fringe to the side.
“Rosie, this is Harry Potter. Mr Potter, this is Madam Rosmerta, the proprietor of The Three Broomsticks.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Mr Potter.” Her voice seemed to caress his ears, while her eyes briefly flicked towards his forehead before she issued a dazzling smile. “Will this be your first year at Hogwarts, Harry?”
He nodded dumbly, not trusting his voice to work. He looked at the professor, hoping she would know that he was begging her to leave, so he could escape whatever this woman was doing to him.
“We should be leaving, Rosie. We’re meeting with Professor Dumbledore this morning. Have a good day.”
“Thank you, Professor. Say hi to Albus for me.” Her eyes locked on Harry’s. “Nice meeting you, Mr Potter.”
“Th . . . th . . . thank you,” he managed to say, and then he walked as fast as he could towards the door of the almost empty pub. Once outside, Harry had to take several deep breaths before he felt settled again.
When Professor McGonagall joined Harry outside the tavern, he thought he saw a slight smile on her face. But if he had, it quickly disappeared, replaced by the professor’s usual expression.
“Mr Potter, Hogsmeade is the only totally wizarding community in Great Britain,” she said in her teacher voice. “That means everyone who lives here is a wizard or witch. Most of our population lives in proximity to Muggles and must be careful not to show our extra abilities. Even though you’ve seen Diagon Alley, I thought it would be helpful for you to visit some of the shops here, since Hogsmeade is less crowded than Diagon Alley, especially before the students arrive.”
They had been walking slowly up the High Street, since The Three Broomsticks was the first building on that end of the street. “The school is up that road.”
The professor pointed past the tavern. As Harry followed the curve of the road, he finally saw glimpses of the castle on the far side of what looked to be a huge lake. Only the very tops of several towers were visible above the buildings that lined the street and the trees edging the road that went to the school.
“Ca . . . Camelot,” the boy said softly.
Minerva McGonagall’s head snapped towards her student. “You know about Camelot, King Arthur, and Merlin?”
Harry nodded his head. “M . . . my favourite b . . . books,” he replied, still staring at the turrets, with their flags waving in the gentle breeze.
“Very good, Mr Potter. Our library contains many books on those topics that you may enjoy.” She paused for a moment. “I would be happy to help you select some for your own reading.”
Harry looked puzzled. “N . . . not in His . . . tory of M . . . Magic?”
“I am afraid not, Mr Potter.”
“Th . . . thank you, then.”
“You are welcome.” The professor gestured to her right. “The Post Office has owls of all sizes for varying length trips. Since you have Hedwig, you probably will not need to use any of the owls here. Honeydukes Sweetshop is on your left. Like many other things, the magical world has its own types of sweets.” She smiled briefly. “Most of them are harmless; a few are used in jokes. Do watch the twins, since they play more jokes on students than the rest of the school combined. Would you like to visit the shop?”
“Yes, please.” Even their candy is different. Should be interesting, even if it is something else to get used to.
The professor and her student entered the otherwise unoccupied shop. The proprietor, a portly, middle-aged wizard, with longish, thinning blond grey hair and a ready smile, greeted them. “Ah, hello Professor. School hasn’t begun yet, has it?”
“Not yet, Ambrosius. I have just brought one of our new students to meet the Headmaster.”
The shop owner’s eyes moved from the professor to Harry, then widened quickly, a reaction the professor noticed.
“Ambrosius, this is Harry Potter. Mr Potter, this is the owner of Honeydukes, Mr. Flume.”
“How do you do, young man?” greeted the shop owner. “Take a bag of whichever candy you want. First one is free of charge.”
“Th . . . thank you, sir.” Harry took a few steps closer to the professor.
Harry looked around the shop. Dozens of barrels filled the centre of the shop, each one containing something different, and shelves covered all the walls, from the floor almost to the ceiling. Some candies were sweet-smelling; others tart. Some made popping or fizzing sounds, while others sat silently.
There must be hundreds of candies in here. How do I choose just one?
The professor noticed Harry’s dilemma. “What types of Muggle candy do you like, Mr Potter? Maybe we can find something similar here.”
Harry closed his eyes. “I haven’t had c . . . candy before.” When he reopened his eyes, he saw the professor’s face quickly move from anger to sadness, then finally return to neutral.
“Well,” the professor said, as they wandered down the rows of barrels. “Pepper Imps enable you to breathe fire. I doubt you would find them interesting. Sugar Quills are popular, but they are very sweet. I have never developed a taste for them. And, let us see, you might want to try Fizzing Whizbees. They can make you levitate a few inches off the ground.”
“Do you think I could p . . . pick several k . . . kinds?”
The corners of the professor’s lips turned upward. “I think that would be fine, Mr Potter, as long as you fill just the one bag.”
“Th . . . thanks.”
He took a bag from an adjacent shelf. Harry decided the Fizzing Whizbees looked interesting, so he scooped some into the bag. Next came several handfuls of Chocoballs that were filled with strawberry mousse and clotted cream, and he finished with three Chocolate Frogs, which contained a trading card of a famous witch or wizard, along with the piece of chocolate.
I’m sure it’s not actually a frog dipped in chocolate. That would be disgusting. But then so are Blood-Flavoured Lollipops and Cockroach Clusters. Where do they come up with some of these things? And who would eat them?
“Are you set, Mr Potter?”
“Yes, Pro . . . fessor.”
The stately witch turned to the shop owner. “Thank you, Ambrosius.”
“Th . . . thank you, sir,” Harry said hesitantly.
“My pleasure, Mr Potter. Enjoy your visit to Hogwarts. Always nice to see you, Professor.” Mr Flume waved as they left his shop.
The mismatched duo continued walking down the narrow street. Harry noticed that the Professor completely ignored Zonko’s Joke Shop. The sign on the next store past Zonko’s carried the name Gladrags, and Harry could see fancy robes and other clothing displayed in the large window at the front of the shop. Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop came next.
Professor McGonagall gestured towards the entrance. “If you run out of parchment or need a new quill, Scrivenshaft’s has a wide assortment from which to select. You can use your owl to order whatever you need.”
They continued walking, ignoring the two side streets that branched off the High Street, and finally came to the last shop in the village, Dervish and Banges. According to the sign in the window, it sold and repaired magical instruments.
“M . . . may we go in here, Professor?”
“Certainly, Mr Potter.” She smiled briefly. “I thought you might be interested in this shop.”
As soon as they walked into the store, Harry was drawn to a display case on the right side of the building. The large, glass-enclosed case held about a dozen small instruments, each one doing something different than its casemates. The only feature they had in common was their colour. Each trinket was a shiny silver. Harry stared, mesmerised by the instruments, as they whirled in different patterns, some issuing an occasional puff of smoke, others making annoying noises.
Finally, the professor’s voice broke into his trance. “We should be leaving for the school now, Mr Potter. It is quite a lengthy walk.”
Harry’s head had snapped up at the professor’s first words. He would never tell her, but he had completely forgotten she was there, since the instruments had captured his complete attention.
“Oh, okay, Pro . . . Professor.”
When they returned to the street, Professor McGonagall pointed past the buildings. “The road continues, with houses, some small farms, and eventually winds into the hills. The school is in the other direction,” she said, turning around and walking down the street more briskly than before. In a few minutes, they walked by The Three Broomsticks, and Harry could see they were now approaching railroad tracks. A little further up was the train station.
Walking down the road, Harry immediately noticed this was a different Professor McGonagall than the somewhat softer, warmer woman who had spoken with him at The Burrow and Diagon Alley. He looked more closely at the witch’s face, as he laboured to keep up with her longer steps. She seemed more self-contained, with her stern expression and piercing, no nonsense eyes. Even her posture seemed different from the previous days, appearing more erect, less flexible.
Her back, her entire body, projected stiffness and formality, even her slightly narrowed eyes conveyed her serious demeanour, and her regal head was topped by steel grey hair pulled tightly into a bun.
“This is where the Hogwarts Express will arrive, when you take it on September first. The first years, such as you and Mr Weasley, will be taken by boat across the lake to the castle. The other students ride in carriages, taking this road.”
Harry looked around. The small train station was on their right, with large trees behind it and occasional glimpses of the lake. As they continued walking up the road, more and more of the lake came into view. In a few more minutes, they had passed the last of the trees. Harry stopped.
Across the lake, crowning a one hundred foot high promontory, sat Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Harry’s mouth dropped open.
Professor McGonagall’s mouth turned up in the beginnings of a smile but stopped there. “A rather impressive sight, wouldn’t you say, Mr Potter?”
All the boy could do was nod his head. I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s huge. It’s like the castles I saw in stories about King Arthur, Camelot, and the Round Table. I’m going to live here?
Harry tried to calm the quivering feeling that had just seeped into his stomach and threatened to involve all of his body. He closed his eyes and tried to forget the immense size of the school property, the enormity of the castle itself, the largest body of water he had ever seen, and the hundreds of students and adults he had never met before.
I don’t know if I can do this. I spent most of my time in a cupboard. Even The Burrow and the bedroom they gave me feel huge. This is a million times bigger.
A shudder escaped and wracked his body, leaving him feeling chilled and sweaty at the same time. The boy swiped his hand across his brow. Then, he took his glasses off and waved them around, trying to dry the moisture that had fogged the lenses.
“Mr Potter?” came a soft voice. “Are you alright?”
He nodded and took a deep breath. “I’m fine.” But he noticed the professor examining him very closely.
“I need to send a message to Hagrid, the Hogwarts’ Gameskeeper and Keeper of the Keys and the Grounds. He is going to meet us at the main entrance to the school, since the gates are always locked.” She turned to Harry. “I am going to use my wand to send the message. You will see a silver form move rapidly up the road. Do you have any questions?”
“N . . . no,” he answered in a shaky voice. “Ohhh!”
Even knowing what the professor was going to do didn’t prepare Harry for the form that leapt from her wand. That’s strange. It looked like a cat.
“Harry, I also need to tell you a bit about Hagrid. He is a very large man.” The professor stopped and looked like she was debating with herself. “Forgive me for using this person as an example, but your uncle . . .” even though she said the word gently, Harry winced, “is a very large man.”
Harry looked down at his trainers and nodded.
“Hagrid is at least twice the size of your uncle in both height and width.”
Harry’s head jerked up and his eyes felt like they were ready to pop out of his head. He scowled at the professor. No one’s that big. But then he reconsidered. She wouldn’t lie about that. We’re going to see him in a few minutes.
“I realize that is hard to believe, but Hagrid is huge. I wanted to advise you of this so you wouldn’t be . . . ah . . . surprised when we meet him. Let me assure you that Hagrid is a very nice man and very gentle. You have nothing to worry about from him.”
Harry took a deep breath. “O . . . kay.” He’s just one more thing that’s different.
He turned back and looked at the town of Hogsmeade. “Th. . . thanks, Professor.” She looked at him curiously. “For this.” He pointed towards the town, then Hogwarts.
“You are quite welcome, Mr Potter. My pleasure.”
The remaining time was spent in silence as Harry took in the surroundings, especially the looming castle and the lake below it that seemingly extended further than he could see. He had to watch his breathing, because it had become rapid and shallow, making him feel a little light headed. Soon they had reached an area where large trees overhung the road and flanked both sides, effectively blocking Harry from seeing much of anything. As they walked around a bend in the road, Harry stopped in his tracks. He had to tilt back his head in order to see the top of the entrance gates to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
The huge, wooden and iron-clad gate covered the width of the road, with walls extending as far as the eye could see in either direction. How did they get all those rocks to make those walls? They must be seven, eight metres high.
The sound of metal on metal brought Harry’s attention back to the gate.
“That must be Hagrid now,” Professor McGonagall said.
Slowly the gates opened, revealing the biggest man Harry had ever seen. Stifling a yelp of shock, Harry gulped several times, unable to keep his eyes off the gigantic man, with his wild black hair and equally untamed black beard. Without noticing, Harry found that he had moved back several metres and was now standing behind the professor.
“Hullo, Perfesser. Hullo, Harry.”
As Hagrid approached them, Harry took several additional steps back. Adrenaline coursed through his bloodstream, begging him to sprint away from this person as fast as he could. Professor McGonagall said he was nice. I have nothing to worry about. I can’t believe how big he is, even bigger than what the professor described.
By this time, Hagrid had reached the professor. “Thanks for opening the gate, Hagrid. I see you remember Mr Potter.”
“Of course, I do, Perfesser. I remember when I . . .”
“Hagrid!” McGonagall’s strident voice cut him off, and the look she gave the very large man ensured he didn’t utter another word.
What’s that about? He’s met me before? Where?
Harry looked at Hagrid, his fear of the man dissolving, replaced by curiosity over why McGonagall had stopped him from saying when he had seen Harry before. He had to have known me when I was a baby. Oh! Then, he probably knew my parents.
Hagrid saw Harry staring at him and shrugged. The professor turned and looked at Harry. “We should be going to the Headmaster’s office. He is expecting us.”
Even with Professor McGonagall’s stern look, Harry felt a flare of anger and the strong desire to ask how Hagrid knew him and whether he knew his parents.
He finally relented, when the professor said more quietly, “We do need to go, Mr Potter. The Headmaster has many things he wants to discuss with you.”
“Okay.”
“Nice to see yeh, Harry,” Hagrid said.
Passing the huge man, Harry shifted away slightly, making sure that Professor McGonagall was between them. Nevertheless, he looked at the man, who was half-smiling at him.
“Th . . . th . . . thanks, Ha . . . grid,” the boy replied, still feeling very nervous but also thinking McGonagall may have been right about the big man.
“I am sorry to have pulled you away so quickly, Mr Potter. I know you will soon find that Hagrid is a very good person, once you get comfortable with his size. He is extremely loyal to his friends.”
That’s the second time she’s said something like that. She mentioned the Goblins would be . . . what word did she use? . . . anyhow, they’d be good to know, too. I wonder what she’s talking about.
The professor pointed to the vast expanse of trees to their left, as they walked toward the castle. “The Forbidden Forest contains a wide variety of magical creatures, such as Centaurs, which are half man and half horse, unicorns, large spiders called Acromantulas, and many other species. Students are prohibited from going into the Forest due to the danger from these creatures and from other beasts.”
I didn’t think Centaurs and unicorns existed, and I’ve never heard of those large spiders before. “W . . . will we learn about th . . . them?” Harry asked.
McGonagall almost smiled. “In third year, you are able to select several new subjects to take. Care of Magical Animals is one of them.”
These thoughts were racing through Harry’s mind, when he and Professor McGonagall approached the entrance to the castle. At this distance, the fairly tale personality of the castle that he had first felt when he saw it from the road was replaced by something much different.
It looks like a fortress, hard and cold. The rock used to build it probably is the reason. It doesn’t have the warmth of Camelot from the pictures I’ve seen. His eyes swept from one side of the castle to the other, then from ground level to the tops of the several turrets.
“How old is it?” the boy asked.
The professor looked surprised, but her expression quickly turned pleasant. “It is very old, Mr Potter, even older than I am.”
A snort escaped before Harry could catch it. He looked at the professor, hoping she wouldn’t be upset at him.
“I was joking, Mr Potter.” Even though the professor had retained her usual stern expression, her eyes were bright. “The school was founded over a thousand years ago, so it is quite old.”
They had arrived at the entrance to the castle and walked up the broad steps that led to the large doors. Once inside, Harry was overwhelmed by the size and grandeur of the Entrance Hall. I feel like an ant in here. I can’t believe this is a school. It doesn’t look anything like my old school. He looked up, noticing numerous staircases that seemed to lead on forever. How am I ever going to find my way around this place? How many students go here?
The professor said quietly, “Hogwarts is big, but you will be surprised how quickly you learn your way around. You should also know that we do not use all the wings or all the individual classrooms here.” When Harry looked curious, McGonagall added, “In earlier years, the enrolment at the school was greater than it is currently.” She smiled briefly. “To answer what I know will be your next question, there are approximately three hundred students currently enrolled.”
The castle is amazing, but it’s so different from anything I’ve seen before. Harry felt his stomach twitch, and he began to rub it, trying to ease the increasing discomfort. It’s so big. It feels uncomfortable . . . like I don’t fit in here. He exhaled heavily. Another new thing to get used to.
Noticing Harry staring curiously at the pictures decorating the hallway walls, the professor noted. “Yes, Mr Potter, the pictures move in the wizarding world. The people in them talk, too.”
I knew the pictures moved in that newspaper and books, but not in paintings. I never heard them talking until now.
“Is that him?”
“I think so.”
“I can’t believe he’s finally here.”
“He’s awfully scrawny.”
Harry turned to Professor McGonagall. “Who are they t . . . talking about?”
She looked perturbed as she glanced at several pictures, and the boy quickly moved a step further away from her. “You, I assume.”
His stomach lurched. Why would they talk about me? Do they talk about anyone walking by? That’s weird. I really don’t like them staring and talking like that.
Despite his increasing uneasiness, Harry’s head remained on a swivel, trying to memorise everything he saw, so he could tell Ginny and so he could find his way around once school started. His body shuddered, when he realized there would be hundreds of other students walking these corridors, not just one professor. Harry sensed his muscles tightening and a feeling of claustrophobia seeping into his body, despite the scale of his surroundings. His stomach roiled.
“Professor, wh . . . where’s a loo?” The boy asked in a very pinched voice.
Noticing Harry’s distress, McGonagall looked around quickly. “Down that corridor, second door on your right.” As Harry quickly walked away, she added, “I will remain here.”
He nodded and sped up, while trying to retain at least a shred of dignity. While Harry was in the loo, he continued to fight the increasing numbness that was spreading throughout his body, with his writhing stomach being the one exception. Chills coursed through him, while perspiration dripped down his back and matted his fringe. He massaged both temples, trying to bring some relief from the headache that had just arrived in full force and had already reached the throbbing stage.
God, I can’t stand this. Everything about my life has changed. I didn’t even know about magic until my birthday, and now I’m in a castle with pictures talking about me. Harry’s eyes widened. All of this comes back to Dumbledore. My life has changed because of him. I need to find out what’s going on, before this drives me nuts. I hate this!
Bile started to rise in the boy’s throat. Please, not this, too. I feel like I’m going to pass out. Take deep breaths. Harry inhaled as deeply as he could several times in a row, until he felt somewhat calmer and a bit stronger.
Finally, everything seemed to settle down, and Harry returned to where Professor McGonagall was waiting.
“Are you feeling alright, Harry?” the professor asked. Harry could see the concern on her face.
“B . . . better. Th . . . thanks.”
Professor McGonagall kneeled down, while remaining the same distance from the boy. “I know this is difficult for you, Harry. I am very proud of you and the courage you are showing. Many of your questions should be answered during the meeting with the headmaster. If you think of any other questions afterwards, you can always ask me. You have people who care for you now. Don’t forget that. Shall we proceed?”
Harry took a deep breath as the professor stood up, then nodded his head. A different feeling moved through him, something strong and determined, as well as a warming sensation. Ginny cares for me, so do her parents. I think the professor, does too, maybe even Ron and the twins. That’s more than before. He stood a little straighter.
The professor and her student continued in silence as Harry stared at the statues, tapestries, suits of armour, and other objects that filled the Hogwarts hallways. They stopped abruptly in front of a curving stone stairway that was blocked by a statue of a weird sort of lion.
The professor whispered, “Lemon Sherbet.” The creature jumped to the side, and the stairs began to move upward. Harry gasped in surprise and hopped back several steps. The professor bit back a smile. “Up the stairs, please, Mr Potter. This leads to Professor Dumbledore’s office.”
They rode up the spiralling stairs, and in a matter of seconds, Harry found himself standing in front of the most intricately carved door he’d ever seen. Before either of them knocked on the door or rang a doorbell, a familiar voice called out.
“Please come in, Professor, Mr Potter.” The door opened by itself.
It’s going to take some time to get used to this place. The boy’s mouth fell open again, as he entered the headmaster’s circular office.
I’ve never seen so many books and . . .
Harry wasn’t quite sure what all the silver instruments were, but they whirled, emitted wisps of smoke, and did other odd things, like those in the Hogsmeade shop Professor McGonagall and he had visited. Dumbledore watched the boy take in the contents in the office, surprised by the feeling of excitement coming from the new student.
“Please come in, Mr Potter, and have a seat.” Once he had, Dumbledore held out a candy dish. “Lemon drop?”
Harry shook his head. I don’t trust him. Something could be in those lemon drops.
Harry was surprised and disappointed to see Professor McGonagall leave the office, but Dumbledore clearing his throat brought the boy’s attention back to the headmaster. I need to listen and ask my questions, so I can find out what’s going on. Don’t let him get to you.
“It is so nice to see you today, Mr Potter. How are you enjoying living with the Weasley family?”
He hesitated, then answered, “Th . . . they’re n . . . nice.”
“I’m so glad to hear that.” Dumbledore smiled and his blue eyes twinkled. Steepling his long fingers in front of him, the headmaster continued. “We have many topics to discuss before Professor McGonagall takes you back to The Burrow.”
What does he want to talk to me about? Does he do this with every student? Harry took out his questions and noticed that Dumbledore looked at him in surprise.
When the headmaster arched an eyebrow, Harry said, “Ques . . . tions.”
Dumbledore’s eyes dimmed and the smile faded, but just as quickly, both reappeared. “Let me provide an overview of your situation, then you can ask whatever questions you may have in the remaining time.”
Harry felt the heat of anger flare inside him. Don’t get mad. Give him a chance. He may answer a lot of my questions without me asking. The boy nodded his head and looked at the headmaster.
“I had assumed your aunt and uncle would have been more forthcoming with you. I now realize that was an unfortunately nave assumption.”
What?
“I guess the best place to start is at the beginning. Both of your parents were magical, as I told you before, and very powerful. Your father’s family goes back many generations . . .”
“D . . . do I have any family?” the boy blurted out, noticing the sharp look that quickly passed over the headmaster’s face.
“I am afraid not, dear boy, except for your aunt, of course.”
Harry felt his excitement quickly fade, leaving a hollow feeling in his stomach.
“Around the time you were born, a war broke out in the magical world.” The elderly wizard proceeded to tell Harry about his parents defying the Dark Lord Voldemort three times and having to go into hiding, using a magical spell he had cast. “Your dear parents were killed by Lord Voldemort, and you received that scar during the fight.”
Adrenaline shot through the boy’s system. He began to shake, taking huge gulps of air. My relatives lied about everything. My parents, magic, my scar, how they died. They said they died in a car crash! When they were drunk!
The boy’s breathing became shallow and more rapid. Angry thoughts continued to fly through his mind.
That evil guy, Vo, Vol, whatever, killed them, according to Dumbledore. This is crazy. My parents trusted Dumbledore to hide them, and he did the spell that was supposed to protect them.
The next thought chilled the boy. I bet Dumbledore killed my parents. There is no other man. It’s all lies.
Sweat dripped from the boy’s forehead and his shirt stuck to his back. His teeth throbbed from being clenched together so tightly.
Dumbledore sent me to the Dursleys and never checked up on me. He killed my parents. He’s caused everything bad that’s happened to me. Everyone is going to think I’m a freak again. I hate him!
“Harry! Please calm down.”
He saw Dumbledore reach for his wand and then felt a warm feeling surge through him. The boy began breathing deeply again and closed his eyes. I’ve got to listen to him, so I can figure out what really happened.
“Why did Volamort . . .”
Dumbledore interrupted, “His name is Vol-de-mort.”
Harry brushed away his irritation at the interruption. “Why did . . . Voldemort attack me?”
Dumbledore’s eyes widen, before quickly resuming their normal size. “We are not sure, Harry.” He shook his head sadly. “Perhaps, he did so because your parents had annoyed him, and he thought his vengeance would be complete by killing you.”
Harry’s head started spinning. What could my parents have done that was so bad he would kill them and try to kill me? He took several shuddering breaths to try to calm himself.
“Did my parents do something really bad to this Lord Voldemort?”
The Headmaster winced. “No, no, dear boy. We were at war. Lord Voldemort was trying to take over the entire wizarding world. He is on the Dark side. We, your parents, me, Professor McGonagall, were — and still are — on the Light side. Your parents were very effective in frustrating Voldemort’s efforts. That is why he singled them out.”
I’m missing something. This doesn’t make sense. I was a baby. “Sir, why wasn’t I k . . . k . . . killed?”
Dumbledore inhaled sharply. “That is a question to which we have no answer, I am afraid.”
The boy frowned, then he looked up at the headmaster. “That’s when I was b . . . brought to my rela . . . tives.” The elderly wizard nodded. “Why them?”
“At the time, I felt it was the best decision. They were family, and I could construct protections for you, based on that . . .”
“The blood wards?”
Dumbledore’s head snapped up, an astonished expression on his face. “How do you know about blood wards, Harry?”
“You told the Weasleys you could do them at their house like you d . . . did at my relatives’.”
The old man smiled. “That is very impressive to remember that and apply it to our conversation. Because your Aunt Petunia is your closest living relative, the strongest blood wards could be constructed at their house. That is why I placed you there.”
Harry closed his eyes, trying to stop the many questions pounding at him. Why did I need protecting? Why am I okay at the Weasley’s now? Wait! I know what to ask.
“Where is Voldemort n . . . now?”
Dumbledore sighed. He absently removed his half-moon glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Suddenly, he looked very tired. “We do not know. After the incident at your parents’ house, he disappeared. Some people think he died. I do not agree with that thought.”
I bet Voldemort doesn’t exist! Dumbledore is lying. What is he after?
Harry ran his hand over his matted fringe, trying to wipe away the moisture that had again accumulated. He felt almost like his body was humming but had no idea why he would feel like that.
“Why didn’t you check up on m . . . me at the Dursleys’?”
The headmaster looked at the boy for several seconds before answering. “I am truly sorry, Harry. I should have. I had no idea they would treat you so poorly, my boy.”
I’m not your boy. My parents are dead because of you, and you dumped me at the Dursleys’!
“It was a mistake of age, I’m afraid. I could not imagine they would do anything other than welcome you with open arms.”
Harry could feel the humming inside him increasing in strength, and his eyes narrowing as he looked at the headmaster.
“Why do you think I need protecting?” The cold tone in his voice shocked Harry.
Dumbledore’s eyes flashed, then resumed their soft glow. “Because Voldemort tried to kill you the first time, I thought he would try to come back again.”
That doesn’t make any sense. I’m a kid, and I don’t know magic. If there was a war going on, Voldemort would go after the most important people. That’s what King Arthur did when he and the Knights fought. I wonder if anyone has seen this Voldemort. A pounding headache hammered at Harry’s head, causing him to feel like some type of pressure was building up inside of him.
“Why was I kept away from magic and the wizarding world?”
Dumbledore’s voice assumed a hard edge for the first time. “Since Voldemort had vanished after the attack at your house and you were the only one left alive” — Harry gasped when his breath lodged painfully in his chest — “I felt you would be best served staying out of the spot light.”
I was a baby! I didn’t do anything! What does he mean, ‘the spot light?’ He just didn’t want me around, because there would be too many questions about what really happened. He’s not telling me the truth!
A memory suddenly surfaced. The dreams! I’m seeing my parents getting killed!
Heat encircled the boy.
The humming sound became deafening, as every fibre of the boy’s being began to ignite.
His head pounded as the pressure inside continued to increase.
Harry’s eyes blazed, as he spit out his final questions. “Why have you made all the decisions about my life? Who gave you the right to do that?”
Even with Dumbledore’s head turned as he looked out the office window, Harry could see the anger growing on the Headmaster’s face. “Harry, do you think any purpose is being served by all these questions?”
Do you know what kind of life I’ve had? Do you care? Why have you done this to me? You’ve done nothing but lie!
Harry gazed at Dumbledore furiously.
I saw a tall, thin man kill my parents! I bet that was you!
Dumbledore turned to look at his student. His eyes immediately widened in shock, as he saw the boy’s magical aura pulsating around him. The headmaster quickly reached for his wand as alarm, tinged with anger, confusion, and denial, were expressed on his face.
A split second later, the force from Harry’s emotions knocked Dumbledore backwards, hurling the professor like a rag doll into the bookcase behind him. The headmaster landed heavily and slumped to the floor, his head ending up on some of the books that had been dislodged when he impacted with the bookcase.
Throughout the office, books, papers, and other objects fell to the floor, windows shattered, shouts were heard from the people in the portraits as the picture frames swung wildly from their hooks, spindly tables turned into kindling and the silver instruments into shiny rubble, as a pulse of energy radiated in ever-expanding circles from the boy.
As his senses returned to him, Dumbledore became aware of the destruction being done to his office. Opening his eyes, he saw Harry’s gaze locked on him, blazing with pain, hatred, and an amazing power.
“Harry! Stop!” the wizard yelled.
He reached for his wand.
When Harry didn’t immediately respond to the command, the Headmaster of Hogwarts aimed his wand at his eleven-year old student.
“Stupefy!”
Chapter 14: Repercussions
Author's Notes: To the most wonderful, enthusiastic, loyal, and supportive readers a fan fic author could ever hope for: Thanks, though that word is woefully inadequate, for your participation in the February DSTAs. You're too good to me, but I like it, so please don't stop.
My eternal thanks to cwarbeck for her 'CONSTANT VIGILENCE!' assuring the reading public that none of my obtuse descriptions or wonky sentence structures shall ever see the light of day. Now you know what she has to put up with!
A bolt of sickly red light flew from the headmaster’s wand and collided with Harry Potter’s chest. The boy’s face went blank, and he slumped forward in his chair.
Responding to the noise created by the explosion, Minerva McGonagall raced into the office, searching frantically, her expression appalled at the devastation to the office. Her disbelieving eyes landed next on the small boy, who was still slumped over in his chair, unconscious. Then, they moved to the headmaster, who was slowly lifting himself off the floor. Immediately ascertaining the boy was not in physical danger, McGonagall turned to the headmaster before she woke her student.
“Albus,” demanded the witch, trying hard to control her fury, “what happened here?”
The elderly wizard closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Taking a deep breath, he focused on the witch. “I’m not sure, Minerva. I told Harry about his parents, their death, Voldemort, the war, why I placed him with his relatives, the protections I put in place, and the reasons behind some of my decisions on his behalf, when he literally exploded.”
Minerva gasped.
An incredulous look came over McGonagall’s face, her eyes hard and furious. “I can’t believe you told the child all of that. You let him go ten years knowing absolutely nothing, and then you proceed to tell him everything in one meeting. Albus, how could you?”
The wizard’s eyes turned down to the scorched papers remaining on his desk. “I thought I was helping him.”
McGonagall blinked several times, finally asking, “Did Harry pass out from magical exhaustion?”
Dumbledore’s eyes rose briefly to meet hers, then turned downward again. “I Stunned him.”
“You did what?” The Transfiguration professor’s voice rose with each word. “You Stunned a student, who just had his entire world turned upside down?”
“Minerva,” the headmaster said, “his magic was out of control. I considered other spells, but I was concerned they could cause a magical implosion with Harry. I truly thought Stunning him was the most benign spell I could use.”
McGonagall’s eyes narrowed. “Did you not consider a simple Calming or Cooling charm?”
Albus looked at her blankly.
McGonagall’s voice cracked like a whip, a mixture of outrage, concern, and disbelief. “Do you realize what you have done? You have driven him further into his shell, destroyed any chance for him to trust you, made it infinitely more difficult for any adult or authority figure to reach him, and you probably ensured he will be the focus of taunting and derision by his schoolmates.” Her voice rose an octave. “What were you thinking?”
The Headmaster spoke slowly, “I thought it would be helpful for the boy to know what his history was, so when the other students started pointing, staring, and asking him questions, he would be prepared.”
McGonagall interrupted, her eyes still heated. “Did you not consider that this information would contradict everything he had been told, and how he has seen himself over the past ten years?”
Dumbledore shook his head slowly. “I thought we agreed he needed to know this information, Minerva.”
The witch took a deep breath. “We did, but not in a single lecture. Albus, he’s a confused, barely eleven-year old boy, who just learned he’s a wizard and is recovering from a decade of mistreatment from his relatives.” Her voice took on a strident quality. “It was too much for him, and now I’m sure he identifies you with everything that has gone wrong in his life.”
She stared at her colleague for a long moment. “There’s another potential problem. We knew he had huge trust issues before with men due to his uncle’s actions. They undoubtedly will be much worse now. I’m afraid you’ve just confirmed Harry’s worst fears about men.”
Dumbledore breathed heavily, suddenly looking very weary. “What do you suggest?”
She thought for several moments. “I will take Harry back to The Burrow. But first, I will Floo Molly and let her know of this latest problem. Oh, don’t give me that look, Albus. I won’t make you look bad.” She shook her head. “I’m afraid we may be back to square one with the boy.”
McGonagall turned abruptly and walked over to the fireplace and made her Floo call to Molly Weasley. When the call was completed, the professor looked at the headmaster, her eyes still sparking. “I think it would be better if I talked with Harry in my quarters. The Burrow would most likely be too hectic and confusing. He would be better served if he can recover and get this . . . experience . . . out of his system prior to returning to the Weasleys.”
“You are undoubtedly right, Minerva,” the headmaster replied in a tired voice. “I thank you for being such a great help to the boy and to me.”
McGonagall nodded stiffly. “It is probably best that Harry not see you right now.”
Dumbledore dipped his head in understanding.
He walked over to the still unconscious boy and gently picked him up. McGonagall collected the Honeydukes candy bag and the sheets of questions. She thought for several seconds, then made a copy of the questions, and put them into a pocket in her robes, thinking they may be helpful in understanding what had happened. The two educators left the headmaster’s office and moved quickly and quietly down the hallway to McGonagall’s quarters.
“He’s so small,” Albus whispered, remorse evident on his face. “I didn’t know how much to tell him, Minerva. Obviously, I erred on the side of not enough.”
McGonagall offered, “Perhaps Harry would be better served knowing everything.”
“A suggestion imminently worth considering,” her colleague replied. “But I have no idea how to tell an eleven-year old boy he has been targeted by the darkest wizard in the past fifty years.”
“Albus,” Minerva said softly, “Harry will figure it out sooner or later on his own. It would be much better for him to hear it from you, and it would help to re-establish your credibility in his eyes. I’m afraid not to do so would destroy any chance you have to build a relationship with him.”
McGonagall waved her wand to unlock the door, and Dumbledore carefully set the boy down on the couch in the small, red and gold decorated sitting room.
Albus looked at McGonagall. “You are more than likely correct in your assessment.” He paused for a moment. “I will leave you, then. Would you let me know what happens once you return from The Burrow?”
“Yes, of course, Albus,” the witch replied, looking from the headmaster to the small boy on her couch.
The headmaster left without another word.
McGonagall moved over to the boy. “Rennervate.”
As soon as Harry’s eyes opened, he wildly looked around the room, eyes darting and narrowed until they became fiery slits. The temperature in the room began to climb. McGonagall kneeled next to the boy.
“Harry,” she said softly, “please listen to me. Nothing will happen to you. May I help you to calm and cool down?”
The boy looked warily at the witch for several long moments. Finally, he nodded.
While she cast the spells, the professor explained, “Harry, we are in my quarters at Hogwarts. You are fine now, with no mental or physical damage. Once you are rested we will go to The Burrow. Is that alright with you?”
McGonagall wasn’t sure whether Harry had heard her, because his face remained blank, as if he were lost in another world. Finally, his eyes turned towards her, and he nodded his head briefly, before returning to his previous vacant expression.
McGonagall puzzled over the apparent lack of effect the Calming spell she had just cast had on the boy. “How do you feel, Harry?”
He glanced up, almost as if he hadn’t realized she had spoken. His voice was so quiet she barely heard his question. “Wh . . . what h . . . happened?”
The professor sighed, as she collected her thoughts. “Apparently, during your conversation with Professor Dumbledore his answers upset you,” she explained softly. “There was an incident of accidental magic, and the headmaster stopped it by Stunning you. He felt he had no other alternative.”
Harry’s eyes flared, but they quickly returned to a dull grey green colour. “He knocked m . . . me out with a spell?”
McGonagall couldn’t tell whether Harry was confused by what had happened or upset that the headmaster had Stunned him. “Yes, to stop the flow of magic and the damage it was doing to his office, Professor Dumbledore felt it necessary to Stun you — or as you stated, to ‘knock you out.’ I’ve checked you for injuries and thankfully found none.”
The professor felt her breath catch, when the small boy began to rock back and forth, his arms wrapped tightly around his chest and shoulders. He looked isolated and devoid of emotion, though she knew the exact opposite was probably closer to the truth.
Minerva intentionally cleared her throat, so her presence wouldn’t startle the boy. He looked up at her with the same dull eyes and expression she’d seen the first time at the Dursleys. She sat down on the couch next to him, disappointed that her proximity seemed to have no effect at all, telling her the boy had been numbed by this experience.
Steeling herself so she wouldn’t feel any of the emotions that were boiling just below the surface, the professor asked, “Harry, may I put my arm around you?”
His head had dropped down again, nearly resting on his chest. He lifted it part way up, but not enough to look into her face. She felt her breath grab her chest, not letting go until it became painful. His face looked so defeated, almost as if he couldn’t stand one more negative thing to happen to him.
He finally shook his head and seemed to withdraw even further into himself.
Her heart began to break when he slumped against the back of the couch, his eyes closed, his body pulled up in a tight ball. She knew the best course was to say nothing, hoping her student would talk when he was ready.
While they sat silently, Harry thought of the confrontation with the headmaster.
His mistakes killed my parents, either he killed them or that Voldemort guy did. I just can’t figure out why he would do that. All those dreams of the tall, skinny guy and the green light and screams were about my parents being killed. I wish I could see them better. Everything’s blurry, so I can’t tell what they looked like. If my parents hadn’t trusted Dumbledore, they wouldn’t have died, and I could be with them. Now, I’ll never know them, what they looked like or sounded like, never know anything about them . . .
Dumbledore put me with the Dursleys and forgot about me. His explanations don’t make sense. I could have stayed with the Weasleys instead. That would have been so much better. Not as good as with my parents, but I’d know about magic and the wizarding world, not be as lost as I am now with all these new things.
He doesn’t care about me at all. Why did he Stun me? When I was with McGonagall, she used a Calming charm, but Dumbledore knocked me out. What is he hiding? Why do these things keep happening to me? Did he kill my parents? Nothing else makes sense, otherwise he wouldn’t have hidden so much from me. I can’t trust him about anything.
McGonagall doesn’t seem as bad as Dumbledore, but she’s with him, so I can’t trust her, either.
I’m going to be expelled before I even start school. That’s why McGonagall is waiting, instead of sending me back to the Weasleys. I might as well get it over with. It’ll just be worse if I make her wait any longer. It always was with Uncle Vernon.
Harry took several deep breaths, then opened his eyes and saw Professor McGonagall looking at him. She looks sad . . . and something else. But I can’t tell what it is.
He whispered, almost as if he were talking to himself. “I am a freak. I almost k . . . killed Pro . . . fessor Dumbledore and d . . . destroyed his office.” Despite his words, his face remained devoid of any emotion, as if the explosion in the headmaster’s office had wrenched every last gram of feelings out of him.
The professor replied in her softest voice, “Harry, you most certainly are not a freak. You’ve had to bear far more than any eleven-year old should. You just couldn’t take it anymore.” An idea took shape. “There is a good part to all this, you know.”
He raised his head, his eyes having trouble focusing. “W . . . what?”
“You’ve proven again that you will become a very powerful wizard. That was a remarkable bit of magic, Mr Potter.” A very small smile graced her lips. “We just need to teach you how to direct it a little bit better.”
His eyes widened momentarily, and then resumed their dull sheen. “I’m not g . . .going to be ex . . . pelled?”
“No! You will not.” Harry’s head jerked up at the strength of the professor’s response but just as quickly dropped again. “As I said, you were forced to deal with too much, too quickly. I know Professor Dumbledore feels responsible for what happened. I told him I would talk with you. That is why he is not here now.”
The very odd couple sat on the couch for a while longer, not talking, their thoughts taking them in different directions.
Professor McGonagall wondered if they had made a mistake having Harry come up to Hogwarts and talk with the headmaster so soon after being rescued from the Dursleys.
I’m sure most, if not all, of the progress he made has been lost. I question if he will even be ready to attend Hogwarts at this point. I never considered that Albus would mishandle the meeting so badly. Not only has he lost Harry’s trust, we didn’t get a chance to show him most of the castle, where his classrooms are located, or introduce him to his professors. She sighed to herself. Maybe if he improves dramatically before September first, I can bring him up and show him around.
While Harry’s expression remained blank, his mind continued to race. I wonder if I should go to Hogwarts. What else will Dumbledore do to me? I’ll have to watch him all the time. He’s even worse than Uncle Vernon. At least with uncle, I knew what he was going to do. Dumbledore is trickier. If I do come here, I’ll need to learn on my own, because I know he’ll tell me all the stuff he doesn’t want me to do.
Why is he trying to run my life? I just can’t figure it out. Did he kill my parents and blame it on this Voldemort guy? But why would he want to kill them? Ice flowed into Harry’s chest. Oh God! He wants my money. Griphook said my Family vault is a lot bigger than my school vault, and the school vault has tons of money. McGonagall said they can get into my account. That could be it.
I’ll be totally on my own if I go here. I’ve got to study harder at the Weasleys and learn everything I can.
With that final, stabbing thought, Harry’s chest and stomach felt like they would explode. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, and he could feel his shirt sticking to his back.
With alarm in her voice, the professor asked, “Harry, are you feeling alright?”
He jumped at the sound, having forgotten the professor was sitting close by. He took several shuddering breaths before his nerves settled down. He finally looked at the witch and nodded briefly, not trusting his voice.
McGonagall still looked at him with concern. “Are you ready to go back to the Weasleys’, then?”
Harry looked like his mind was a million miles away, but he nodded, without emotion and stood up.
“We can use my fireplace.” She scooped some powder from a red and gold plaid coloured bowl on the mantel. “Just say ‘The Burrow,’ Mr Potter.” She threw some of the powder into the fire and watched the small boy depart. Perhaps the Weasleys can help him overcome the damage done by Albus. Several seconds later, the professor followed her student.
As soon as Harry staggered through the fireplace at The Burrow, he saw Ginny sitting on the couch. Her bright smile immediately turned to concern when she saw the expression on Harry’s face.
“Okay, Harry?” she asked cautiously and quietly.
Before he could answer, the fireplace flamed green, and Professor McGonagall entered the sitting room. “Harry, here are your questions and your bag from Honeydukes.”
At first, the witch’s words didn’t seem to register with the boy, but after a few moments, he moved stiffly over to her and took the packages. He turned to go up the stairs but stopped and looked at Ginny.
The two children stared briefly into each other’s eyes. Then, Ginny mouthed, ‘It’s okay,” and nodded her head.
Harry walked up the stairs without another word. As soon as he entered the bedroom — he still couldn’t think of it as ‘his’ — he locked the door. Walking over to the desk, he laid the parchment and bag on top, went over to the bed, and lay down, curling in a ball and facing away from the door. Thoughts flashed through his mind like a lightning storm.
Don’t think. Don’t feel. Don’t let him get to you. I need to figure out if I’m going to Hogwarts. McGonagall said I wouldn’t be expelled, but Dumbledore is the headmaster, so he’s the one who decides. I guess he’s not hurt. McGonagall would have said something if I’d hurt him. I wish I knew what I did. Ahhh! Stop thinking. Just calm down.
The small boy focused on taking deep breaths and soon he had fallen asleep.
Ginny watched the professor, barely restrained curiosity reflected on her face and in her cinnamon eyes.
When she saw the small girl’s expression, Minerva McGonagall softly expelled her breath. “Miss Weasley, let’s find your mother, and we can discuss what happened.”
Ginny’s eyes brightened, despite her cloudy expression. “She’s in the kitchen,” and started walking in that direction. McGonagall followed her.
“Molly?” Mrs Weasley’s head snapped up at the tired tone of the professor’s voice. “Is Arthur here yet? We probably should have him join us, if possible.”
A worried look immediately covered Mrs Weasley’s face. “I’ll Floo him at the office.” Rushing over to the kitchen fireplace, she grabbed a pinch of powder, knelt down, and said, “Arthur’s Office” into the green flames.
Seconds later Molly asked, “There’s nothing wrong, but is it possible for you to come home now? Minerva is here, and she wants to talk about Harry’s visit with Albus at Hogwarts.” There was a pause of several seconds. “Oh good! I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
She turned, smiling, to the professor. “He’ll be right here. Would you like some tea?”
The three witches had just started drinking their tea, when the kitchen fireplace flamed and Arthur Weasley stepped out.
“Hello, everyone!”
He greeted his wife with a kiss on the cheek and one on the top of his daughter’s head. After pouring a cup of tea, Arthur sat down and looked at Minerva. “I take it the visit wasn’t successful if you wanted me here.”
Minerva smiled faintly. “I’m afraid you are right, Arthur.” She stopped and looked directly at Ginny. “Miss Weasley, as long as your parents agree, I think it would be helpful for you to hear what happened, since you appear to have the closest relationship with Harry.”
Ginny blushed, as the professor looked at Arthur and Molly. They looked at each other for just a few moments, then turned back to the professor.
Arthur spoke. “Minerva, we agree. Ginny should be included.” He looked at his daughter. “We know she will handle this information appropriately. Right, Gingersnap?”
Ginny’s earnest expression was apparent to each of the adults at the table. “I’ll do anything I can to help Harry.” She looked at the three adults. “You should have seen his face when he arrived.” She shook her head. “It was like he was . . . lost, like when he first came here.” She looked at the professor. “What happened?”
The professor gathered herself, seeming to sit even straighter in the chair. “As you know, we first went to Hogsmeade.” Surprisingly, the witch briefly smiled, as she looked at the two adults. “Rosie flirted with him, and I thought Harry was going to run out of the pub without opening the door.”
Both adults smiled at the thought of Rosmerta embarrassing yet another first year Hogwarts wizard. Ginny’s eyes narrowed briefly, then her face resumed a more neutral expression.
McGonagall continued. “We walked through the town, stopping at Honeydukes and Dervish and Banges. Harry was quite fascinated by the silver instruments like those Albus has in his office. I noticed that Harry is extremely perceptive as we went through the town and especially as we saw the lake and castle.” The professor stopped and looked at Ginny. “Miss Weasley, I am speaking much more openly than I normally would in front of someone your age.” Ginny nodded her understanding, and the professor continued. “I learned he is particularly fond of King Arthur, Merlin, and Camelot. We met Hagrid at the gate, which was an interesting experience for Harry. He very subtly kept me between Hagrid and himself at all times.
“The castle was both a good and bad experience for him. The design and how it recalls the times of Arthur and Merlin were exciting, but the sheer size of the grounds and castle and the talk among the portraits were daunting for him.
“I left him with Professor Dumbledore . . .”
Three sets of eyebrows raced up their respective foreheads.
Minerva sighed. “Yes, I know. In hindsight, I should have remained with Mr Potter and the headmaster, knowing that Harry had felt uncomfortable with him the last time they had a discussion. So, I am at least partly responsible for what happened.”
“Minerva,” Mr Weasley asked softly, “what did happen?”
The professor closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath. “Harry lost control of his magic, sent the headmaster flying into the bookcase, and partially destroyed the office.”
The professor looked at the three Weasleys and saw the same gobsmacked expression on each of their faces.
Molly was the first to speak. “That small boy did something like that? How in Merlin’s name did he do magic that strong, and what did Albus do to cause the child to explode like that?”
Ginny quietly spoke up. “He didn’t answer Harry’s questions, did he?”
All three adults turned sharply towards Ginny, then the two Weasley adults looked at the professor.
“Miss Weasley, unfortunately, you are correct. The headmaster was concerned about how Mr Potter would respond to some of the answers to his questions. As you know, some are very tragic. So, the answers he provided were . . . hmmm . . . not complete.”
“And Harry knew it,” Mr Weasley added.
“It appears that way,” the professor said.
During the exchange, Molly had been wringing a dish towel in her hand, so it currently resembled a tightly wound pretzel. “So, Harry doesn’t trust Albus now. He’ll have to work hard to regain the boy’s trust.”
“That’s exactly what I told him, Molly.”
“Did he get a chance to walk around the castle and meet his teachers before all this happened?” Arthur asked, but his face indicated he already knew the answer.
“I’m afraid not, Arthur. We went directly to the headmaster’s office. I’m thinking of bringing him back closer to the start of school, if . . .”
“. . . if we all decide it’s best for Harry.” Molly finished the thought.
“Exactly,” Minerva said quietly.
All of them became lost in their thoughts.
Molly got up and rewashed the already clean dishes that were air drying on the counter. She looked out of the window in front of the sink, not seeing anything, as she continuously rubbed a sponge around the plate in a circular motion.
Ginny got up and started pacing, an intense look of concentration on her face. Her pace varied from slow, when her expression was especially focused, to quick when she looked angry.
Arthur studied a drawing of a car he had made on a piece of parchment, repeatedly tracing over a line that formed the top of the rear bumper, and not noticing how much darker it had become compared to any other line on the drawing.
Minerva McGonagall sat ramrod straight, occasionally sipping her tea and less frequently gesturing with her right hand, then shaking her head.
Three comments were made with such precise timing they couldn’t have been more closely spoken than if each person had a stop watch in their hand.
“He’s not ready to attend Hogwarts,” Molly said. “He needs to learn what family is and more about the wizarding world.”
Molly’s statements were obscured by Minerva saying, “His relationship with the headmaster needs to be rebuilt.”
Arthur’s comment went over those of the two adult witches. “We would be happy to work with him on anything he needs to know.”
The three adults stopped and looked at each other, and Ginny said, “We need to talk with Harry about what he wants to do.”
Voices from downstairs woke Harry shortly after he had fallen asleep. After listening for a short time, he quietly snuck down the stairs. He stopped at the foot of the stairs where he could easily hear the conversation. If his emotions could have taken on individual colours, he would have embarrassed a rainbow for being dull and monotonous.
They’re talking about me again. Why didn’t they come and get me instead of talking behind my back? I thought I could trust Ginny and Mr Weasley. Why do I let people do this to me?
Should I go to Hogwarts? Do I have to learn about magic? But if I decide I don’t want to learn, they’ll probably send me back to the Dursleys. I couldn’t do that now. Would the Weasleys just tell me to go away?
Why did it get quiet? Did they hear me? Oh. The boy smiled to himself and started walking.
“Ginny’s r . . . right.” Four heads snapped up and stared at the boy. “You should t . . . talk to m . . . me, not be . . . hind my b . . . back.”
“Harry, dear.” Molly rushed towards the boy, but she stopped abruptly as if she had run into an invisible wall. “I’m sorry, Harry. I know better. Please join us at the table, and we can talk.”
Ginny scooted over, leaving plenty of room for a Harry-sized person, and looked up at him. He immediately settled next to her. ‘Thanks,’ he mouthed.
She smiled back.
“Mr Potter, we wonder if it is appropriate at this time for you to attend Hogwarts.” When Professor McGonagall noticed Harry’s face quickly darkening, she added, “In no way would we dictate what you should do. Instead, we,” she gestured at all the others seated at the table, “are concerned that you have so many adjustments to make that you may be better served by waiting a year, learning about your magic, the wizarding world and your place in it while here at the Weasleys, and then enter Hogwarts next year.”
Arthur spoke in his calm, even voice. “Harry, none of this is to say we don’t think you are capable, don’t have the necessary skills, intelligence, or anything else negative. It’s purely that you have a lot of challenges in front of you.”
Harry stared at each of the four people seated around him. They need to know. They’re concerned. That’s all. I need to talk to them, not do what Dumbledore did and hold back. He took several deep, shuddering breaths.
“I’m used to ch . . . challenges,” he said softly. “I n . . . never had any fr . . . friends. D . . . Dud . . . Dudley would hurt anyone who t . . . talked to m . . . me.” Both Molly and Minerva gasped. “I st . . . stopped t . . . talking so they wo . . . wouldn’t get hurt.” He turned and looked directly into Professor McGonagall’s eyes. “The tea . . . chers didn’t do any . . . thing.”
Harry slammed his hand on the table, and the four people who had been focused on each of his syllables jumped in shock. Four sets of eyes flew to him to learn what was wrong.
He squeezed his eyes closed, moisture evident on his forehead, his cheeks a blotchy red. “C . . . can’t t . . . t . . . talk,” he whispered in a rough voice.
“It’s okay, Harry,” Ginny whispered but without moving closer to him. “We understand. Just take your time. We want to hear what you have to say. Talk to me if it’s easier.”
After several deep breaths, Harry began speaking again, while looking at Ginny. “M . . . my relatives t . . . told the neighbours I was a ju . . . juv . . . juvenile delinquent.” He looked at each of the adults. “I’m used to this.” He returned his gaze to Ginny. “Hogwarts won’t be any harder.”
Harry collapsed back in his chair, the energy drained from his body. “Please leave m . . . me alone.”
He got up slowly and returned to his room upstairs.
Albus Dumbledore sat in his comfortable leather chair and absentmindedly fiddled with the papers on his mahogany desk, alone with his thoughts in his seventh-floor office in one of Hogwarts’ towers.
I created this situation with Harry Potter through my ill-considered decisions. I am responsible for how the poor boy has turned out. No wonder he was so angry with me. The Dursleys’ mistreatment of the child was appalling, and I let it continue through my complete inattention. Even their son ridiculed Harry.
I’ve got to do a better job, both for Harry and for James and Lily. I wish I could ask them how much they want me to tell their son. I desperately want to save what’s left of his childhood and his innate innocence, but I don’t know how I can do that and tell him everything. Minerva will provide good advice, I’m sure, as well as Molly, if I ask her. Perhaps, I should . . .
The elderly headmaster sighed deeply and rubbed the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes briefly.
The parallels between Harry and Tom Riddle are a concern. Both grew up essentially alone and in Muggle environments. Both knew they were somehow different and used their magic without knowing what it was. Both are extremely powerful wizards and very intelligent. I can’t see Harry embracing the Dark Arts, especially once he learns more about the circumstances surrounding his parents’ deaths. Still, I need to ensure he doesn’t go down that road. It could be tempting to him, with all he has gone through and with all he has yet to learn.
Will I ever stop being haunted by what happened to my family? I’m sure Aberforth would say I’m repeating my earlier mistakes — if he would ever talk to me again. But how can I blame him?
We still have so many issues to address. His fame in the wizarding world, the reception he can expect, especially from Slytherin House, becoming familiar with the castle and grounds, meeting his professors, the reasons behind what happened today, helping him get comfortable with his new world and using magic. Most crucial of all remains how much do I tell him about Voldemort and the Prophecy?
Maybe I should talk with Minerva.
As soon as Harry started to leave the kitchen, Molly moved quickly to intercept him. Her intention to smother the boy in a mothering hug was obvious to the remaining three.
Arthur quietly said, “Let him go. He needs to be alone.”
Molly stopped reluctantly, nodded her understanding, and waited until she heard the bedroom door close. “Minerva, what did Albus do to that child?”
McGonagall pursed her lips, trying to determine how she could present what had happened in an objective manner. Unfortunately, she found it next to impossible, as her ire rose again just at the thought of the headmaster’s mishandling of the situation. “Harry, apparently, came to the meeting with the intention of asking a number of questions.” She paused and looked at Ginny, a curious expression spreading over her face. “Miss Weasley, did you help Mr Potter put these questions together?”
The young witch explained, “We filled two pages.” She paused and looked at her parents. “Most of them were about Professor Dumbledore’s decisions about Harry.”
The Transfiguration professor nodded. “That was a good idea, Miss Weasley. Or at least it would have been had the headmaster allowed Mr Potter to ask all of his questions.” She turned to Mr and Mrs Weasley. “From what Albus told me, he spoke at length about a number of topics, including . . .” She listed all the subjects Dumbledore had mentioned, noticing that with each addition to the list the Weasleys’ expressions grew more incredulous.
“No wonder Harry exploded!” Molly said forcefully.
“As your daughter knows, the majority of questions sought to give Harry an idea of where he fits into the wizarding world and the reasoning behind the decisions that have affected him. When he didn’t get a chance to ask these questions, or with the few he did, Harry felt he was not being told the complete story. His frustration with the headmaster ended up with the accidental magic incident.”
Arthur suggested, “Then we need to help him learn about the wizarding world, its customs, and his place in it. We should not fight him in his desire to go to Hogwarts. He would feel the entire world was against him, and it could destroy the boy.” He looked at the three other people seated at the table. “I won’t do that to Harry.”
McGonagall said softly, “I agree with you, Arthur.” She looked around and both Molly and Ginny nodded their heads. “Good. I will take him to school towards the end of August, so he can find out where his classrooms are located and meet his other professors. I also will suggest to him that he read the opening few chapters in each text book. Maybe I can schedule a few practice sessions for him and Ron, so they can learn to cast some of the easier spells.”
Ginny smiled like a Cheshire cat. “Harry has finished Charms already and is halfway through Transfiguration.”
The three adults stared at her.
Finally Molly said, “We need to make sure he is around people, not alone in his bedroom all day. Ginny, can you make sure he gets together with Ron and the twins?”
Ginny smiled enthusiastically. “Getting them to fly and play Quidditch is probably the easiest way. Harry is a fantastic flyer. He amazed us the first time he got on a broom.”
The professor’s face lit up with excitement before quickly returning to her usual stern expression. Still, her eyes remained bright. “He could make a good Seeker, perhaps. We lost ours to graduation.”
Arthur and Molly both laughed, and Molly said, “We’ll encourage that. You better hope he lands in Gryffindor, Minerva.”
The professor’s reaction was priceless and told the three Weasleys she had already assumed Harry would be sorted into her house. She tried to look more neutral but failed and finally laughed softly. “I never considered that he would not be in my house.” She looked at Ginny, then Arthur and Molly. “I’m sure you understand.” Both adults nodded.
Arthur filled in the smiling silence. “I have already promised Harry that I would tell him a story each night about his parents.” Arthur shook his head. “He knows nothing about them. I thought it was the least I could do.”
Ginny shook with barely suppressed energy. As soon as her dad had finished speaking, the words tumbled from her mouth. “Could we find pictures of his parents, maybe even some of Harry when he was a baby?”
Molly smiled. “That’s an excellent idea. We may even have some in the attic, and I would imagine we could send word out to others who knew Lily and James.”
McGonagall began to list possibilities. “Elphias Doge, Alastor Moody perhaps, Aberforth Dumbledore. Kingsley knew James and Lily, and Amelia may have something from Edgar. Oh, and Augusta Longbottom.” Both Molly and Arthur nodded sadly. “Even Hagrid may have something.”
Molly had been writing the names down, as Minerva remembered them. “I’ll follow-up. We can put an album together.”
Arthur smiled. “Remus Lupin could be a treasure chest of pictures and memories . . .” He paused, an excited expression overtaking his face. “Pensieve memories. Remus could have hundreds of them. I’m sure the others would, too.” He looked hopefully at his wife.
“I’ll ask about those, too, and add Remus to the list. Let me know if you think of anyone else.”
“Harry doesn’t have any other relatives?” Ginny asked.
The professor answered her. “No. His father’s parents were killed by Death Eaters about mid-way through the first war. James and Lily arrived too late to save them, but they were able to capture the three Death Eaters who committed the crime. Lily’s parents died not long after Harry was born. I’m not sure how that happened, since they were Muggles. James was an only child, and of course, you know about Harry’s Aunt Petunia.”
“Well, this is excellent,” Arthur said. “What else can we do for Harry?”
“If we are successful with all of these efforts, they should be very helpful to Harry.” McGonagall paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. “That would leave only his relationship with the headmaster.”
Arthur and Molly both realized that due to Ginny’s presence the professor had stopped short of mentioning the time and effort it would take to repair the damage done to the relationship between the two wizards.
“Well, I should be going. I do have another conversation that awaits me.” The witch’s eyes turned hard, but quickly softened when she addressed the three Weasleys. “Thank you for your help. Please keep me advised, and I will do the same.” She reached into her robe pocket. “Here is the Hogwarts invitation. Mr Potter may wish to keep it with his mementos.” She handed the envelope to Mr Weasley.
As the professor started walking towards the fireplace, Molly said, “Don’t forget about Ginny’s birthday on the eleventh.”
McGonagall smiled. “I wouldn’t miss it. I will see you then.” She tossed the powder into the fireplace, called out “McGonagall’s Quarters, Hogwarts,” and disappeared in a flash of green flames.
Harry saw Mrs Weasley moving towards him as he walked out of the kitchen after the discussion about Hogwarts. He didn’t want to be obvious about staying away from her, but even more, he did not want to be enwrapped in one of her smothering hugs. It would just be too much, and he could feel his skin crawling at the thought of being stifled like that.
Harry exhaled the breath he had been holding when he saw her stop, eliminating his need to speed up or position himself so something blocked her from him. He didn’t dislike Mrs Weasley. He just didn’t feel comfortable being that close to anyone. For some reason he wasn’t aware of, being hugged by her just didn’t feel right at this time.
He went up the stairs, entered the bedroom, and locked the door. Harry sagged onto the bed, oblivious to everything around him, except his aching stomach and dull headache. He curled in a tight ball to try to calm his stomach pains. Every other part of his body was numb, until his inevitable thoughts began.
I can’t believe what I did in Professor Dumbledore’s office. I don’t even remember doing it. I just got mad, and then everything was exploding and Dumbledore hit the bookcase. The next thing I knew I was in Professor McGonagall’s office. I can’t believe they aren’t expelling me for doing that. I’ve got to be really careful with this magic, so I don’t hurt anyone. Do other wizards have this problem?
Harry’s head began to spin, and for a moment he felt like he was going to throw up. Sweat dripped slowly down his forehead, and he could feel the bedspread getting damp by his head.
I’ve got to calm down. I can’t have another one of those attacks.
He tried to breathe more slowly, concentrating on taking each breath deeply into his lungs. Finally, the prickly heat that had enveloped his body began to dissipate, and he felt a bit calmer.
I’ve got to learn all about magic since I’m so far behind everyone else. I can’t believe Dumbledore kept me away from the wizarding world until now. He’s really tricky. He didn’t lie, but he didn’t answer my questions. I’ve got to find out why he’s done all these things to me.
The small boy snorted.
If I got by the Dursleys for ten years, I can do this, too.
Harry got off the bed and walked to the desk, pulled the Transfiguration book off the top, sat down on the bed with his back against the headboard, and began to read the text and wandlessly practice the transformations being discussed.
A light knock on his door interrupted Harry as he studied. “Harry? Time for dinner . . . Are you awake?”
Instead of answering, Harry got up, went to the door, and unlocked it. He found Ginny staring at the door knob, then she looked up at him, both eyebrows arched in an unasked question.
“I’m okay,” he answered in a whisper.
The two children silently descended the stairs, both skipping over the squeaky third step. When they reached the foot of the stairs, Ginny continued towards the table, but Harry immediately stopped, feeling six pairs of eyes turning to look at him. Harry’s eyes swept from left to right and saw a mixture of curiosity and concern on each face. A small spike of adrenaline shot into Harry’s system, and his first impulse was to run from the kitchen and the people staring at him.
Ginny stopped as soon as she sensed Harry was no longer next to her. She turned back and gestured for him to sit in the open space next to her. The casual conversation among the Weasleys had stopped when Harry entered the kitchen and an uncomfortable feeling spread throughout the normally cheerful room.
Mrs Weasley looked like she wanted to rush over and hug the small boy but was fighting her natural tendency.
Mr Weasley broke the tension with a soft, “Join us, lad. You must be hungry.” A paternal smile accompanied his invitation.
His words eased the tension, and the other Weasleys returned to their conversations. Mrs Weasley brought the platters containing the food for the meal. Ginny remained standing and extended her hand towards Harry. He followed it, pulled as if by a magnet, and the two children sat down next to each other.
Mrs Weasley put a plate in front of Harry that held more food than a week’s rations at the Dursleys. He looked up at her, and she wordlessly smiled back at him, nodding her head.
This isn’t the Dursleys. Stop acting like it.
“Th . . . thanks, Mrs Weasley.”
“You’re welcome, dear,” Mrs Weasley said, as the other member of the family started attacking their food with their usual gusto.
Whether intentional or not, no one asked Harry any questions, until dinner was over. As Harry placed his dishes in the sink, George asked, “We’re going to fly in the paddock area. Want to come?”
Harry looked at Ginny. She shook her head and mouthed ‘Go on.’ He looked at her questioningly, but she nodded, indicating it was okay.
“S . . . sure,” he replied.
The four boys stopped first at the shed and pulled out the four best brooms, then headed toward the paddock area.
“Remember how to fly, Harry?” Fred smirked at him.
“We could give you another lesson,” George continued.
“Or you could give us one,” Fred finished.
Ron snorted, and Harry shook his head, wondering if he’d ever get used to the twins. When they reached the grassy field, the boys kicked off, and Harry felt the tension drain from his body. He thought a silent, ‘Woo Hoo!’ and took off at a 45 degree angle until he was even with the tallest tree tops, then he levelled off and looked around.
To the east he could see the tops of some of the taller buildings in the nearest town, Ottery St Catchpole. The church spire was the most prominent and easily the tallest structure in the village. Sweeping his eyes north, he could see parts of a stream that meandered by the property and then rolling hills extending beyond that. Curving the Cleansweep so he was facing west, Harry quickly shut his eyes as the lowering sun came into his field of view, and continuing his circle route revealed more trees with some higher hills beyond them. Harry wondered if the Weasleys had any idea how great it was here, especially when compared to the regimented conformity of Privet Drive.
With a smile to himself, Harry pointed the broom downward and leaned flat against it, so he could accelerate rapidly. He loved the feeling of the broom responding to his every wish. But there was something beyond that, something inside him that knew what to do and when. As the ground rushed toward him, Harry counted down the time before he had to pull out of the dive, ‘five, four, three, two, one . . . pull up.’ He straightened up quickly from his prone position over the broom, pulling it up until he was sitting perpendicular to it. Briefly glancing at the ground, Harry could see his feet were within several centimetres from the grass, and a warm feeling flooded his body.
Sound returned with a roar, as he heard the three Weasleys yelling enthusiastically. Harry looked over and saw them hovering about seven metres off the ground. Each had a wide grin and their eyes shone brightly.
“Woo Hoo!” Ron yelled.
“Potter perfectly pulls a Wronski Feint,” George announced.
“Ploughing the other Seeker into terra firma,” Fred added.
Harry brought the broom over to the three brothers. Ron moved his arm to pat Harry on the shoulder, but held up as Harry stiffened and started leaning away. Ron’s arm quickly dropped to his side.
George jumped in to eliminate the awkward silence. “Don’t know how you do it, Harry.”
“It’s like the broom’s a part of you,” Fred added.
“Let’s play two-a-side Quidditch,” Ron proposed, eliminating the need for Harry to respond to the twins’ comments.
Two hours later, the four boys landed, tired and sweaty, but smiling. As they walked back to the shed to return the brooms, the twins kept up their usual constant chatter. At first, all the noise and activity annoyed Harry, but then he noticed Ron’s calm appearance and watched him more closely. Ron didn’t ignore the twins, but he also didn’t pay much attention unless a question was directed at him.
That’s probably the best way to treat the twins, otherwise they’d drive you nuts. If I can learn to ignore them like Ron does, so they don’t get to me, it’ll make it easier to be around them.
“Gentlemen,” Fred used a pompous voice, “my brilliant twin and I have a previously scheduled appointment.”
“So, as much as it grieves us to leave your convivial company, duty calls.” As soon as the words were out of George’s mouth, the twins disappeared up the stairs.
“Mental, those two,” Ron muttered. “Wanna play chess?”
Harry nodded his head and followed Ron into the sitting room. Three games and three crushing losses later, including a chorus of complaints from his players, Harry waved off a fourth game. “S . . . study.”
Ron’s eyes immediately widened, but he bit his tongue and didn’t say what he was thinking, instead opting just to thank Harry for the games, even though he wasn’t much competition.
The mid-summer sun had set and shadows grew both outside the house and within Harry’s bedroom. He had studied four more chapters when he heard a light knock on his door that he associated with Ginny.
He opened the door and confirmed the presence of the petite red head, already in her pyjamas, with the same light blue-coloured robe Harry had seen before, and a hopeful smile on her face.
“May I come in?” she asked.
Harry opened the door wider in response. Ginny walked straight to the bed and perched in her usual spot at the end. Harry sat at the top with his back against the headboard and looked expectantly at the young witch.
Ginny ducked her head, then raised it and looked directly at Harry. “Mum and Dad said to leave you alone, to let you come to us if you wanted to talk.” She tried but couldn’t stop a sharp laugh. “I figured you’d never do that,” Harry’s eyes widened considerably, “so I decided to come and see you.”
Ginny’s expression changed from smiling to serious. “I know something happened. Whenever you want to talk to someone, I’ll be here. Don’t feel you have to talk to me or anyone else now. Just don’t think you’re all alone anymore. We’re not perfect. We make mistakes.” She snorted in a very unladylike manner. “Everyone does. But we won’t hurt you. Harry, everything will be easier if you can let us in. You’re not alone anymore. Please think about that. Okay?”
Harry nodded his head slowly. How does she know this? I don’t want to talk now. I’m not even sure how I feel about all of this, maybe when I do.
Then another thought hit him. “Why di . . . didn’t you w . . . want to fly?”
Ginny sighed. “I’ve been asking and my wonderful, protective brothers keep saying no. I didn’t want you to get in the middle of that. It’s been going on for a couple of years, since Ron started learning.” A sneaky looked crossed her face. “There are other ways, you know.” When Harry looked confused, she added, “Maybe I’ll tell you later,” and she smiled mischievously at him.
Ginny continued to talk for about half an hour more, content with Harry nodding or making one-word comments when appropriate. Finally, she said, “Well, time for me to go to bed.”
She bounced off the bed, but instead of walking towards the door, she moved closer to Harry.
“You’re not alone, Harry,” she whispered.
He nodded.
“I’ll be in my room if you want to talk.”
As Ginny reached the door, his soft words reached her. “Thanks, Ginny . . . for everything.”
She smiled at Harry as she left the room. Her smile got even bigger when she didn’t hear the lock click.
Harry read two more chapters from the Transfiguration book and practiced the spells, all the while smiling to himself about Ginny’s visit. After brushing his teeth and washing his face, Harry returned to the bedroom. Just as he was getting into bed, another knock on the door stopped him. Harry put his robe back on and opened the door to find Mr and Mrs Weasley standing there. He opened the door wider, so they could come in.
“Harry, I wanted to see if you’d like to hear a story about your parents, as I had promised,” Mr Weasley said. “It’s your decision, lad. I’ll understand if you’re not up to it tonight.”
Harry paused and focused on the floor midway between the man and himself. He already knew that he did not want to hear any stories about his parents. He just wanted to go to bed, to be left alone, but he didn’t want to be rude to Mr Weasley.
He finally looked up and shook his head.
Mr Weasley smiled. “I understand, Harry. Tomorrow night, then. Goodnight, lad.”
“Oh, I almost forgot. Professor McGonagall left your Hogwarts acceptance letter with us. She thought you might want it as a memento. I’ll just put it on your desk.” He walked the few steps to the desk and put the envelope on top of the Transfiguration book.
Before he turned to leave, Mr Weasley slowly stretched his hand out towards Harry, a warm, almost paternal, expression on his face.
Harry froze, staring at the arm moving directly at him. He looked at the man and gasped as he saw the face of Vernon Dursley with his eyes narrowed and his face beet red with anger. Harry felt his breath catch in his throat when his uncle’s face was replaced by the grandfatherly Albus Dumbledore. His eyes, instead of twinkling, were cold, hard cobalt. He carried a wand in his hand, and crimson sparks danced off the end.
Harry tore his gaze from the sparks only to find their colour was now shown in the eyes of the man he now knew was Voldemort. His arm was pointed directly at Harry, and the tip of his wand glowed with that sickly green light.
Instead of hearing the fateful words, though, the arm started moving back. A second later, the wand disappeared, and Harry Potter looked into the confused and worried eyes of Arthur Weasley.
Harry felt like his body was going to collapse. He had been a split second away from running as fast as he could, and the adrenaline was still surging through his blood stream. Now, he felt his pyjama top clinging to his sweat-soaked body, and moisture trailing down his forehead and onto his cheeks. His head pounded so hard his eyes hurt and made his stomach feel queasy.
Mr Weasley cleared his throat. “Did I scare you, Harry?”
The boy shook his head.
“Are you alright? You look like you saw a ghost.”
“F . . . f . . . fine,” Harry finally gasped out, his throat feeling rough and sore.
“Did you want me to stay with you a while? We don’t need to talk.”
Harry again shook his head.
“Okay, then, lad.” Mr Weasley slowly kneeled, making sure not to move closer to Harry, and whispered. “If you need to talk or just be with someone, you can come up to our bedroom any time tonight. Wake me up if you have to. Okay, Harry?”
The boy nodded his head rapidly, his heart still beating wildly.
“Alright, then. Goodnight.”
“’Night,” the boy whispered.
“Sweet dreams, Harry dear,” Mrs Weasley added.
He nodded, then waited until they left, locked the door, and curled up on the bed in a tight ball, trying to forget the images of the three men he had seen in Mr Weasley’s place. The size of the bed seemed to grow, and the boy looked around the room to find it now appeared to be huge to him, making him feel small and insignificant.
The moonlight poured through the open window. But instead of the usual warmth and brightness the boy enjoyed, it looked cold and created ever-changing shadows that moved towards the boy, and then retreated. The honeysuckle blossoms were open, and the light breeze sent the sickeningly sweet fragrance into the room. The boy’s stomach lurched as the smell hit his nostrils.
He couldn’t stay in that bed, in that huge room that wasn’t his. Harry grabbed his pillow and a blanket off the bed and searched the room. His eyes sought and found the one place he knew he would be comfortable. He walked over, cleared a space, and lay down, closing the wardrobe doors behind him.
Curled in a small ball, the boy eventually fell asleep.
Chapter 15: Reaching Out
Author's Notes: Thanks to everyone who has nominated the story for the March DSTAs. Sorry that this update took longer than usual (you did notice that, didn’t you?). Real Life in the form of Spring Break and out-of-town visitors kept me away from the computer.
Even more than usual, my thanks to the brilliant cwarbeck. In addition to adding the Brit-speak "l's" and "u's" that I continually forget, cel straightened out the pov in the dream sequence toward the end of the chapter. All credit also goes to cel for the title of the book Percy brings to the lunch table -- the literate lady loves alliteration. Hope you enjoy it, too!
Melindaleo has asked that I include a tissue warning. For some reason, she thinks my story makes people cry. This is a good chapter to start this ‘tear alert,’ since the two scenes at the end of the chapter may bring some additional moisture to your eyes. Maybe I'll even develop a rating system.
The early morning sunlight streamed through the bedroom window, spilled across the floor and finally reached the bed where the small boy usually slept. This morning, though, its warming rays did not wake Harry Potter, because he was not there. Out of habit, acquired over many years, the boy woke up on his own.
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and shifting so he could put his feet on the floor, the boy, instead, bumped into something wooden and unmoving. His eyes shot open only to find complete darkness that pressed on him from all sides. Adrenaline shot through his system, his heart beat increased rapidly, sweat beaded on his forehead, and his breathing became shallow and laboured. He sat up abruptly and found himself tangled in . . . some kind of material.
His mind began to process what was happening.
I slept in the wardrobe.
The boy lay down again, breathing heavily and trying to calm himself from this unexpected awakening.
I met with Dumbledore yesterday. I exploded. He Stunned me. He wouldn’t answer my questions.
Harry Potter felt his body collapsing, and a moist, heavy blanket seemed to cover his body and numb his mind.
I don’t know what to do.
Minutes went by with no thoughts coming to the boy. Suddenly, chills coursed down his spine.
Mr Weasley’s arm was coming at me. He looked like Uncle Vernon, Dumbledore, and Voldemort.
The boy’s fevered thoughts stopped abruptly.
Mr Weasley wouldn’t hurt me. But how do I know he wouldn’t? Every other man has.
Despite being surrounded by darkness, Harry clearly saw Mr Weasley’s actions in his mind.
He was slowly reaching out his hand like he always does. He didn’t look mad or upset. But those other times could have been done so I’d trust him. The boy exhaled heavily. It’s just hard to believe he’d hurt me.
Why did he start looking like those other guys? Dumbledore! It’s him every time. I bet if I hadn’t met with him I never would have thought that about Mr Weasley.
A thought interjected itself in a calm, caring voice. ‘You will meet some good people, Harry. You’ve got to trust them.’
That’s right. The dreams. Are the Weasleys the ones I have to trust? Are they the good people? They seem like it. I haven’t felt anything mean about them, nothing like Uncle Vernon or Dudley. I’ll just have to be careful around them, I guess. God, this is hard.
I better get up. I don’t want anyone to see me in here.
Harry pushed the wardrobe door open and climbed out, blinking against the bright light that flooded the bedroom. At that moment, Hedwig flew through the open bedroom window and lightly landed on Harry’s shoulder.
“Hi, girl. Were you out hunting?” Hedwig bobbed her head, as if she were responding to the question. “Did you have good luck? I bet it’s a lot better here than at Privet Drive.”
Hedwig gently nibbled his ear, tickling it, and making the boy laugh. Then she rubbed her head on his cheek. “That feels good. Thanks, Hedwig.”
Harry held out his left arm, and Hedwig hopped down. Harry began to stroke her snow white feathers, starting at the top of her head and continuing down her back. Each time he placed his fingers on her head, Harry could feel the owl lean into this touch.
“I should go downstairs for breakfast, girl, but I’ll be back. Okay?” Hedwig hopped into her cage. Harry checked to make sure there was plenty of water. “I’ll be back soon.”
After a few more scratches behind Hedwig’s ears, Harry put on his robe, unlocked the door and went downstairs, making sure he skipped the squeaky third step, so it wouldn’t wake Ginny. As he reached the foot of the stairs, he stopped, feeling like his muscles were turning to cement.
I hope they aren’t mad or disappointed in me. Taking a deep breath, the small boy walked into the kitchen.
“Good morning, Harry.” Mrs Weasley smiled from the stove where she was scrambling eggs.
He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out, so he simply nodded. The boy stiffened as he cautiously passed Mr Weasley, making sure he was more than an arm’s length from the man. He looked at Harry with a sad smile.
“How are you this morning, lad?” he asked softly, as Harry sat down at the opposite end of the table.
“F . . . f . . . fine,” the boy whispered hoarsely, then returned his gaze to the table top.
Mr Weasley began to say something, then stopped. Finally, he just said, “Good.” His eyes remained on the boy for several seconds, then returned to the Daily Prophet he had been reading.
“Here you go, Harry. Tuck in,” came Mrs Weasley’s bright voice, followed by a plate being set in front of him, overflowing with the scrambled eggs, home fries, and several slices of toasted wheat bread. She poured a glass of pumpkin juice and returned to the stove.
Harry took a bite of the eggs and a seasoning he’d never tasted before spread over his tongue.
That tastes great. What is it?
Harry looked up and saw Mrs Weasley glancing at him. He nodded to the eggs, and she smiled.
“It’s dragon’s-wort, but Muggles call it tarragon. It’s an herb similar to wormwood, which you’ll study in Potions. I grow it in the garden. Here, let me show you what it looks like.” She brought over a small bottle that contained short, slender leaves. When Mrs Weasley unscrewed the cap from the bottle, the smell flooded Harry’s nostrils.
“L . . . licorice?” His forehead furrowed. “M . . . milder and sweet.”
Mrs Weasley smiled again. “Very good. Did you use many seasonings when you cooked?”
Harry shook his head. “They d . . . didn’t like ‘em.” He looked up. “Th . . . thanks.”
“Any time, dear.”
Mr Weasley folded the newspaper. “Harry,” he said softly, “once I get home from work tonight, let me know if you would like to hear a story about your parents.”
Harry nodded his head, and Mr Weasley got up. “Well, have a good day, then.”
Harry nodded his head again.
Mr Weasley walked over to his wife, kissed her on the cheek, then whispered in her ear. Mrs Weasley briefly glanced at Harry and nodded her head.
“See you tonight, dear.”
As soon as Mr Weasley stepped into the green flames that would transport him to the Ministry of Magic, Mrs Weasley said, “Harry, why don’t you go upstairs, take a quick shower and get ready for the day?”
“’Kay,” he replied softly.
After cleaning up and dressing, Harry returned to his room and went to the desk to get the Transfiguration book. He looked curiously at the envelope sitting on top of the book.
The Cupboard Under the Stairs
Number Four Privet Drive
Little Whinging, Surrey
Harry felt his insides ignite in a white heat.
They knew I lived in the cupboard all this time and didn’t do anything. I didn’t think they knew that. I thought they’d just ignored me. This is even worse. They knew how I was being treated and didn’t care. Both Dumbledore and McGonagall knew. What an idiot I am for believing what McGonagall was saying. God, I can’t believe anyone.
The boy slumped on the bed and curled up, desperately trying to stop himself from thinking. Eventually, he heard someone knocking on his door. Harry’s first inclination was to ignore the irritating sound and whoever was making it. He finally generated enough energy and got up.
Ginny stood outside the doorway, a concerned expression on her face. Seeing he was already dressed, she asked, “You’ve eaten already?” He nodded and walked back to the bed, sitting heavily on it, and leaving the decision to Ginny whether she wanted to come in or not.
She tilted her head slightly and said, “You’re in a great mood this morning,” and stalked into the bedroom, sitting on the desk chair, rather than her usual end of the bed. “What’s with you?”
Harry handed the still unopened Hogwarts envelope to her. She looked at him quizzically, then read the only thing she could, the address. Understanding replaced confusion, and she whispered, “They knew.”
Harry nodded his head.
“No wonder you’re mad.” Ginny’s face scrunched up in thought. Finally, her eyes widened. “Harry, there’s got to be more to it. I don’t think Professor Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall would have left you there if they had known the Dursleys were keeping you in a cupboard.”
Harry flopped back on the bed and snorted.
“I know Dumbledore hasn’t treated you right, but McGonagall has. You know that, Harry.” When Harry didn’t respond, Ginny continued. “Look at what they did when they found you like that. They brought you here the same day. There’s more to it.”
Harry pondered Ginny’s words, then sat up. “You’re r . . . right.” He ducked his head. “Thanks.”
Ginny’s eyes brightened, and Harry looked at her curiously. “Would you wait a few minutes while I get dressed?” she asked. “Then, we can check with my mum.”
He looked sceptically at the young girl for a few moments, then finally said, “O . . . kay.”
Ginny returned the offending envelope to Harry and sped out of the room. She was back in a few minutes, wearing a soft green tee shirt and blue denim shorts. “Let’s go,” she urged.
Harry felt a surge of energy and hopped off the bed. The two kids hurried down the stairs, skipping over the third one, and raced into the kitchen.
Molly looked up in surprise. “What’s up with you two?” She looked back and forth between Ginny and Harry.
Harry immediately looked at Ginny, who grabbed the envelope from Harry and gave it to her mum. “See the address? Someone knew Harry stayed in that . . . cupboard. If Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall knew, then they should apologize to Harry.” Her mum started to say something, but Ginny sped on. “But we don’t think they knew. Can we talk to someone?”
Molly Weasley thought for just a minute, then smiled. With a pinch of Floo powder, she put her head in the flames and clearly said, “Minerva McGonagall, Hogwarts.”
A few seconds later, a surprised voice could be heard. “Molly, what can I do for you?”
“Harry and Ginny noticed his Hogwarts’ invitation was addressed to him at the ‘Cupboard Under the Stairs.’”
“Oh, my. May I come through?”
“Of course, thank you, Minerva.”
A few seconds later, the flames flared and the professor came through. Gone was her usual stern expression, replaced by one showing concern and caring. “Good morning, Miss Weasley, Harry, may I see the envelope, please?”
Harry picked it up from the table where Mrs Weasley had laid it down and handed it to the professor. Her expression quickly soured.
She knelt down, so she was the same height as the two children. “First of all, thank you for bringing this to Mrs Weasley’s attention and not letting your anger build up. Both of you are to be commended.” She smiled briefly. “Now, let me explain how the system works. When a magical child is born, the name and date are entered into a magical registry. The founders of Hogwarts enchanted a quill to do this when they started the school. During the summer of their eleventh year, the letters are automatically sent out to all magical children who will have reached eleven by August 31st. The headmaster and I know who has been invited and those who have accepted, but we are not involved in sending out the invitations.
“Harry, may I assume you thought we knew about you living in the cupboard and did not do anything?”
He closed his eyes and nodded his head.
The professor answered in a very soft voice. “I would have come to the very same conclusion, Harry. I can assure you we never would have allowed that had we known. I am so sorry that we didn’t know and as a result did nothing. Will you accept my apology?”
Harry stared into the professor’s dark grey eyes and found nothing but truth in them. “Yes,” he whispered.
McGonagall smiled. “Good.” Not one to let a teaching moment pass, she continued. “Miss Weasley, Harry, do you see the benefit of asking the questions you want answered, to not hold your concerns in and let them fester?” She looked from one child to the other.
Ginny looked at Harry, who turned to her when he felt her gaze on him. He turned back to the professor. “I was m . . . mad. This is b . . . better. Ginny helped.”
The professor smiled. “It takes courage to ask tough questions, so I’m quite proud of both of you. Did you have any other questions?”
Harry turned to Ginny and she said, “I don’t have any more. Thank you for coming so quickly.” She glanced at Harry. “We thought you didn’t know.”
Harry looked at the professor. “The que . . . questions I had for Du . . . Professor Dumble . . . dore.”
“I’ll ask him myself, and either the headmaster or I will provide the answers. It may take several days. Is that acceptable to you, Harry?”
“Ye . . . yeah. Tha . . . thank you.”
“You are both welcome.” The professor looked at Molly. “I’ll return to Hogwarts, then.”
Molly smiled. “We’ll see you in a few days for Ginny’s birthday. Thanks, Minerva.”
With a flare of green flames, the professor returned to the school.
Harry looked at Ginny, who had a big smile on her face. He couldn’t fight back a grin and whispered, “Okay, you were right.”
Ginny whispered back, “And don’t you forget it, Mr Potter.” Then, her eyebrows arched. “Mum, since it’s so warm today, could we go down to the pond?”
Molly considered the request for a few moments, then said, “Sure, your swimming costume still fits, doesn’t it?”
Ginny’s cheeks acquired some additional colour. “Yes, Mum,” though she was thinking, ‘I’m still as straight as a stick.’
Her mum smiled, knowing exactly what her daughter was thinking. “Harry, do you have any swim trunks?”
“N . . . no.”
“Not a problem.”
She disappeared into a room off the kitchen and quickly returned, holding a pair of orange trunks. Harry’s eyes widened at the loud colour.
Ginny started laughing. “Obviously, they used to be Ron’s.”
Molly handed the suit to Harry. “Thank you, Mrs Weasley.”
“You’re welcome, dear. When you’ve changed, see me and I’ll put the sun screen charm on both of you.”
The two kids raced up stairs. Harry found the suit fit fine and soon returned to the kitchen. Mrs Weasley approached him, with her wand out, and he immediately took a step back. Squeezing his eyes closed for a second, he took a deep breath, then stepped towards her.
“Just close your eyes, Harry. Remember? You’ll just feel something flowing over your body.” A second later, that was exactly what Harry felt. “Now, you’re set. No burn for you today.”
“Th . . . thanks.”
By this time, Ginny had arrived, and Mrs Weasley cast the charm on her. “Have fun, kids. We’ll let you know when it’s time for lunch.”
When Ginny came into the kitchen, she only had her swimming costume on. Harry noticed it was a royal blue one-piece, very modest in cut, but it appeared she had grown since she purchased it, and it made her legs look long, despite her petite size. Once the sun screen charm had been cast on her, Ginny added a tee shirt and shorts.
“Ready?” she asked.
Harry nodded and they set off for the pond.
The cerulean sky was clear except for a few puffy white clouds to the west. A light breeze whispered through the oak trees that flanked the property by the house. The air had a dry feel to it that made thoughts of doing anything strenuous disappear without a sound.
The two magical children walked side-by-side in comfortable silence. Harry’s head was constantly moving, eagerly taking in the open spaces that were so unlike the Privet Drive neighbourhood. Passing the makeshift Quidditch field, Harry knew it wouldn’t be much longer until they reached the barren area, then the pond.
A few minutes later, they crested the slight incline that led to the pond, and both smiled as they gazed over the sapphire expanse, with the green trees protecting it on three sides. They quickly walked down to the shore, dropped their towels, stripped off their shirts and shorts, and kicked off their trainers, Harry dropped his glasses on his pile, and they waded into the refreshing water.
Ginny called out, “Race you to the other side.” She dove in and started swimming in a smooth overhand stroke.
Harry stood stock still in the knee-high water by the edge of the pond. A few seconds later, Ginny stopped swimming and looked back in confusion at Harry.
“I can’t swim,” he said, barely loud enough for her to hear.
She swam back. “I should have asked.” She paused for a few moments, and then smiled. “Want me to teach you?”
Harry’s eyes widened. Is she taking the mickey out of me?
“I’m serious, Harry. You should know how to swim. I can show you the basics.” She smiled. “It’ll be fun.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
Ginny’s eyes lit up and a big smile spread across her face. “Good! The first thing you need to learn is to float. Here, let me show you.”
Harry looked at the small red head for a few moments, his reluctance showing on his face and in the tension evident in his body. I can trust her. She’s never done anything bad to me. Look at her. She looks hurt.
“Okay,” he said and tried to force a smile through the nervous feeling that had come over him. “Th . . . thanks, Ginny.”
Her smile returned instantly.
A half hour later, Harry was moving through the water, a little hesitantly since his body wasn’t totally relaxed. But his overhand stroke had smoothed out some, and he now could swim for longer distances than he could initially. Ginny had proven to be an excellent teacher. First, she had him practice floating on his back.
“Harry, I’m going to place my hand on your lower back to help hold you up until you can float on your own.” She giggled when he looked at her suspiciously. “I won’t tickle you.”
Then, Ginny would occasionally correct how Harry moved his arms or legs, by gently guiding them through the proper motion. “You’re doing a lot better, Harry.” She smiled mischievously. “At least you’re not a danger to yourself now.”
She’d been moving slowly towards him while talking. When she was within an arm’s length, she quickly reached out and tagged him on the shoulder. “You’re it!” she yelled, as she swam away rapidly.
Harry had jumped when he saw her hand coming at him. But his shock quickly changed to determination once he understood it was a game. Harry started running through the knee-high water but stopped when it became obvious he couldn’t move very fast through the water that way. He tentatively launched himself in Ginny’s direction, concentrating on moving his arms smoothly and strongly. He looked up to get his bearings, just in time to see a wall of water coming towards him and to hear Ginny’s laughter.
Once he had shaken the water off his head, he yelled menacingly, “I’m going to get you, Weasley,” but its intent was destroyed by the large smile lighting his face.
In between her laughs, Ginny replied, “Did you get all wet, Potter? Can’t you catch little me?” She dove under the water again, and Harry searched the area but was hindered since his glasses were sitting on the clothes and towel he had left on the sand.
After about ten minutes more of futile chasing, Ginny asked innocently, “Want to give up, Potter?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty knackered.”
Ginny swam up to him. “You really are learning fast, Harry. It took Ron forever when the twins tried to teach him. But then I’m a much better teacher than they are.” She grinned at him.
“You are good. Oh, one more thing.” She looked at him curiously. His hand shot out and touched her on the shoulder. “You’re it,” he shouted as he dove into the water, swimming as fast as he could through the ten metres to the shore and kicking his legs hard to create a shower of water.
When he reached the water’s edge, he turned around and saw Ginny standing where he’d left her, bent over and laughing. When she saw him looking at her, Ginny took a deep breath, smiled, and said, “Good one, Potter.”
She dove gracefully into the water and swam below the surface until she reached the shore. She sat about an arm’s length from Harry, both with their legs still in the water. After sitting like that for a short while, Harry turned to the small red head. “That was fun. Th . . . thanks.”
Her eyes locked on his. “My pleasure, kind sir.” She started smiling. “And I’m going to give you a chance to repay me . . .”
“By teaching you wandless ma . . . magic,” he said.
“Would you?” Ginny’s teasing look turned hopeful.
“S . . . sure.” His forehead furrowed slightly, then his expression brightened. “I know . . .”
He got up, as Ginny watched him closely, and he picked up several large leaves that were lying on the sand nearby. “Let’s try to levitate these leaves. Okay?”
Ginny jumped to her feet, with a big smile. “Thanks, Harry. This will be great. What do you feel when you do your magic?”
A look of concentration came over his face and his eyes closed. “I feel it inside of me and think what I want to do. Then, it just kinda happens.” The last sentence sounded like a question. His expression changed to a mixture of embarrassment and irritation. “In Dumbledore’s office, I didn’t do anything. It just came out of me.” He looked at the young witch. “I was pretty mad about him not answering my questions, and it came out of my body, not my hand or finger.” He closed his eyes and shook his head.
“That wasn’t your fault, Harry. Professor Dumbledore should have answered your questions. A lot has changed in your life. Would you show me how to levitate the leaf?”
Harry shook the previous thought from his mind. “Yeah. Try to feel your magic here” — he pointed to the middle of his torso — “and think what you want it to do. I don’t usually think of the words, but you might want to think ‘Wingardium Leviosa.’ Point your hand at the leaf and then move it in the direction you want it to go. Watch me first.”
Harry focused on the leaf, pointed at it, then slowly raised his arm. The leaf followed the movement of his arm, as Harry raised it to a height of about three metres before reversing direction until it landed softly on the sand.
“That’s great, Harry,” Ginny said, a big smile on her face.
He smiled back at her. “Your turn. Just think of your magic, then the words and hand movement.”
Ginny stood about a metre from one of the leaves Harry had placed on the sand by the water’s edge. Her face was a mask of concentration. After about ten seconds, she raised her arm.
Nothing happened.
Ginny focused again but the leaf remained stationary in the sand. Harry’s face became scrunched up in thought. “Try saying the words out loud.”
“Wingardium Leviosa.” Ginny’s arm moved upward; the leaf didn’t. Instead, it sat there, almost mocking her efforts. “AHHH!”
Harry looked over at the red head and noticed her eyes looked fiery, so he spoke quietly. “Do you feel your magic here?” Again he patted his stomach.
Ginny’s expression quickly morphed from anger to embarrassment. “Not really. I think about it, but I don’t feel it there.”
Harry nodded. “That’s probably why it’s not working.” Then he said, almost to himself, “What are the differences?” He looked up at Ginny. “You’ve always known you’re a witch and used a wand, right?”
She nodded her head energetically. “For as long as I can remember. My brothers taught me a few spells. I used an old aunt’s wand, so the Ministry wouldn’t know.” She looked at Harry. “You think because you didn’t know you were a wizard or about wands your magic is different?”
“Yeah.” He looked at Ginny and a little bit of colour showed on his cheeks. “It may sound stupid . . .” he said quietly.
“Oh, please, Harry, tell me.”
He could see the interest in Ginny’s eyes. “Okay. When I was with my parents, I was around magic.” His voice had become very soft, almost like it was painful to talk. “I had forgotten . . . all of that . . . when I was with the D . . . Dursleys, but it was still inside me. I did things growing up . . .”
“Like what?” Ginny asked enthusiastically; she leaned closer towards Harry, who didn’t notice her movement.
His eyes took on a far away look. “I could move things. One time D . . . Dudley and his g . . . gang had me trapped coming home from school. I pushed the guy closest to me to get away.” He looked directly at Ginny. “I didn’t touch him.”
Ginny’s eyes got wider. “They tried to hurt you?”
Harry felt a flash of irritation. I shouldn’t have said anything.
Ginny’s hand moved half the distance between them and stopped. “It’s okay, Harry. You don’t have to talk about it. It might help, though.” She turned and looked straight into the boy’s eyes. “I won’t take the mickey out of you.”
Harry dropped his gaze and focused on the sand in front of him. His voice had a far off quality when he began talking. “They called it ‘Harry Hunting,’ and D . . . Dudley and his mates would try to catch me on the way home or on the playground at recess. I got pretty good at figuring out what they were doing and got home okay most of the time.” He looked up, with a ghost of a smile on his lips. “They weren’t very smart.” He took a deep breath. “I think my magic would just come out when I needed it, but I didn’t know what I was doing.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“Your friends would let them to that?” she asked, a surprised look on her face.
Harry’s head dropped. “I didn’t have any friends,” he whispered. “D . . . Dudley would threaten anyone who tried to talk with me.” He exhaled heavily. “I just stopped talking, so people wouldn’t get hurt.”
“That’s horrible!” Ginny’s eyes had turned fiery again and her cheeks had flushed a soft red. “Didn’t your teachers say anything?”
Harry shook his head. “I don’t think they knew. No one ever did anything.”
“So, you never had any friends?” Ginny asked.
A faint smile showed on Harry’s face. “In pre-school, there were the two I told you about my first night here, when you came into the bedroom with my birthday present. Sammi and Miss Rea, our teacher. Remember?”
“That’s right. Oh, and Sammi had red hair and freckles like me.”
“And she was smart like you, too,” Harry added.
Ginny’s smile grew bigger.
Harry’s smile changed rapidly to sadness. “They both left at Christmas hols. Sammi’s family moved to Manchester, and Miss Rae moved back to take care of her parents in Cornwall. They promised they would write and call me, but they never did. And they didn’t return any of my letters or phone messages.” The last words were barely a whisper.
“I remember you telling me that. It hurt, didn’t it?” Ginny felt as if someone had poured ice inside her.
All Harry could do was nod his head. “It wasn’t worth it after that.”
“Harry, may I?”
When Harry looked at her, a question in his eyes, Ginny looked down at her hand, which still rested on the sand halfway between them. Harry closed his eyes and breathed in a deep, shaky breath.
He nodded his head.
Ginny shifted her body slightly closer to Harry and moved her hand slowly towards his, where it sat on the sand next to him. When she gently grasped his hand, he felt something . . . not a surge of electricity, but something warm and calming. A few moments later, Ginny began to move her thumb slowly over his knuckles. Harry had to fight back the moisture forming in his eyes, because her touch felt impossibly good.
His breathing became laboured and uneven, as a distant memory came to him.
“My mum used to do that . . .”
“Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry . . .” She instantly stopped the motion. Her cheeks turned crimson.
“No. I . . . like it. Please.” Harry’s change in complexion mirrored that of Ginny’s.
The young witch smiled to herself and resumed running her thumb over his knuckles. She could feel a warmth through their clasped hands and even more through the memory Harry had shared with her.
The two magical children continued to sit on the sand, silently gazing at the sunlight glittering on the surface of the sapphire pond, while Ginny ran her thumb over Harry’s knuckles and made lazy circles on the back of his hand. They finally roused themselves from their sun-induced stupor.
“Probably time for lunch,” Harry said, checking the position of the sun above.
“I am getting hungry,” Ginny admitted.
Harry started to say something, then stopped. He grinned at Ginny. “Aren’t Weasleys always hungry?”
“Prat.” She lightly slapped his shoulder, first feeling horrified she’d done that unthinkingly, then overjoyed when Harry’s grin didn’t falter.
“Yup,” he said. He stood up and reached out to help her up. “Thanks, Ginny.”
She smiled back, while being pulled up. “It was fun. We should do this again.”
“We can try the wandless magic again if you want,” he offered.
“Yeah. I would. Thanks.”
After one last look at their pond, they turned to walk back to The Burrow.
As soon as they entered the kitchen, a feeling of guilt swept over Harry. Mrs Weasley was busy preparing lunch by herself. “M . . . may I help, Mrs Weas . . . ley?”
A surprised expression came over her face. “Oh, hi, Harry and Ginny. Did you enjoy the pond?”
Ginny whispered to Harry, “Plates are over there; the silverware is in the drawer below them.” He nodded, then Ginny spoke in a louder voice. “I taught Harry how to swim.”
“Well, good for you, dear.”
By this time, Harry had grabbed seven plates and sets of utensils and had started setting the places. Apparently, the four other boys were upstairs, since Ginny and he hadn’t seen anyone on their return to The Burrow. Ginny added seven glasses and napkins, and a few minutes later Mrs Weasley called the others down for a lunch of sandwiches, crisps, sliced fruit, and pumpkin juice.
With the multiple clattering of three pairs of feet and one more sedate pair, Ron, the twins, and Percy arrived for lunch. Ginny, Harry, and Ron sat on one side of the long table, with the twins and Percy on the other side. Conversation was virtually nil as the boys tucked into their first couple of sandwiches. Finally, as the eating frenzy slowed to a more normal rate of consumption, conversation began.
“George, were you aware that the Boy Who Lived did not know how to swim before our little mermaid taught him?”
“Fred, as totally unaware as I was about his spectacular flying ability,” George responded.
Harry looked curiously between Fred and George. I know they’re talking about me, but what’s this Boy Who Lived stuff?
Ginny hissed, “Stop those nicknames. He doesn’t know them.”
The twins and Ron looked startled, their eyes opening wide, moving from Ginny to Harry, then back to their lunch plates. Percy briefly looked up, frowned curiously, then returned to reading his book, Precocious Prefects Who Procured Perfection.
As soon as lunch was finished, Harry got up and placed his dishes in the sink, followed reluctantly by the Weasleys.
Ginny whispered, “Let’s go outside. We have a lot to tell you.” In a louder voice, she said, “Mum, we’ll be in the garden.”
“Okay, Ginny. Your Sun charm and Harry’s should still be good. Boys, let me do that charm before you go out.”
Harry and Ginny went outside and sat on either side of the garden table. Ron and the twins joined them a few minutes later, Ron sitting on Harry’s side and the twins next to Ginny.
George jumped right in. “Do you know you’re famous in the wizarding world?”
Harry stared at him, his eyes cold and hard. I knew I couldn’t trust those two. What’s he after? Me famous? I thought they were going to help.
Harry stood up quickly and began to return to the house. Ginny jumped up just as quickly and moved to cut him off. Despite Harry’s furious expression, she stood in front of him, blocking his path to the back door.
“Harry,” she said quietly, “it’s true. I know it sounds like another of the twins’ jokes, but it’s not. Please let us explain.”
Harry stared into her eyes, noticing that she didn’t flinch. She’s telling the truth. “Okay.”
They returned to the table, and George said, “Sorry, Harry. I probably shouldn’t have jumped straight in like that.”
“But it is true,” Fred added. “From when you defeated You Know Who.”
Harry couldn’t stop a snort. You Know Who?
Ginny immediately explained. “You Know Who is . . . V . . . Vol . . . Voldemort.”
Harry jumped as the three other boys gasped. He immediately looked around and saw each of the boys staring in shock at Ginny.
She looked defiantly at each of her brothers. “It’s not going to help Harry if we can’t even say his name.” Ginny turned to Harry, the irritation gone from her eyes. “He was trying to take over the wizarding world . . .”
Ron interrupted, “Some people say he even wanted to take over the Muggle world.”
Fred continued the story. “Our parents told us it was a very scary time, lots of people killed . . .”
“. . . including Mum’s two older brothers, Gideon and Fabian,” George said.
“They called them ‘dark times,’ and no one — not even Professor Dumbledore — could stop . . . him,” Fred finished.
Ginny said quietly, “Not until you defeated him, that is. So, everyone started calling you the ‘Boy Who Lived,’ because you’re the only person to be hit by the Killing Curse, Avada Kedavra, and live. Harry, everyone knows your story, and you’re famous because of that. I’m sorry. No one’s told you that?”
“No. But th . . . that explains every . . . thing.” His hand went to the hated scar on his forehead. “That’s probably why this n . . . never healed.”
The Weasley children nodded.
I’m still not positive Dumbledore didn’t make all this up. He looked at Ginny, his stomach roiling. “I was a baby. How could I de . . . feat him?”
“No one knows,” she answered softly.
Fred shook his head. “But what we do know is that when you go to Hogwarts or someplace like Diagon Alley, where there are a lot of wizards, you will . . . ah . . . get a lot of attention.”
Harry squeezed his eyes closed. “What kind of attention?”
After a moment of silence, the responses pummelled Harry.
“They’ll crowd around you . . .” Fred said.
“. . . wanting to shake your hand, pat you on the back,” George finished.
“Some will stare or point or talk about you,” Ron added, noticing that Harry had become very quiet and was beginning to turn red.
Ginny quickly added, “We know you hate attention, Harry, but it should only last for a few days, then they’ll treat you like any other new student.”
George volunteered in a quiet voice, quite unlike his normally boisterous tones. “Harry, we’ll make sure people understand to leave you alone.”
“We’ll stay with you as often as we can and keep people from getting too close,” Fred added.
“And I’ll be in all your classes. You’ll be okay,” Ron said.
“You can do it, Harry. It’ll just take a while for everyone to get used to you being there,” Ginny said.
Harry looked from one Weasley to another. Each, in turn, felt nervous about Harry’s response to these revelations. “Th . . . thanks. That’ll help.”
The mood swung abruptly back to relaxed, as the four Weasleys exhaled, and their worried expressions returned to their usual smiles and easy banter.
“Hey, let’s play some Quidditch,” Ron suggested.
“Good. Let’s go,” George said.
The four boys got up, but Harry noticed Ginny remained seated. He looked at her, with the obvious question in his eyes. She just shook her head and mouthed, ‘Don’t bother.’
“Are you sure?” Harry asked.
“Yeah. It’s not the right time yet.”
“Okay. See you later?”
Ginny smiled. “Yup.”
Harry caught up with the three brothers at the shed. After retrieving four brooms, they headed over to the paddock area and started flying. As soon as he kicked off and started rocketing through the air, Harry felt the familiar rush that made his concerns melt away.
After numerous games of Quidditch, with different pairings, and a long game of tag, the boys finally landed and began the walk back to The Burrow. As they got close to the ramshackle house, Harry turned to the twins.
“Can I borrow your second year Charms and Transfiguration books?”
Both boys goggled at him. Finally, Fred choked out an incredulous, “Why would you want those?”
“I finished the first year b . . . books and wanted to keep going,” Harry answered.
Ron’s eyes grew wide in shock. “It’s summer!”
Harry shrugged his shoulders.
Fred said, “You can borrow mine.”
Harry followed the twins up the stairs, after saying hello to Mrs Weasley. As they entered the twins’ room, Harry looked around in amazement. There were scorch marks in several places on the walls and one large spot on the wooden floor. The area rug was discoloured in numerous places, and there were piles of papers, labelled jars, and books haphazardly scattered around the room.
There’s no doubting that this is the twins’ room, Harry thought.
Fred had been searching through the clutter and finally smiled as he pulled two books from a stack on one of the desks. “Here you go, Harrikins. You realize it’s against our principles to study during the summer, but we’ll make an exception in your case . . .”
“. . . because you are an exceptional addition to our family,” George finished.
Harry’s body jolted at George’s remark. Both twins noticed his reaction. Fred quietly said, “Harry, we understand. We’ll do everything we can to help out.” George nodded his agreement.
Harry swallowed several times. “Th . . . thanks.” I’ve never seen them this serious. There’s a lot more to them than meets the eye.
Harry waved at the boys, returned to his room, and started reading and practicing spells from the second year Charms book.
Harry placed the second year Potions book on his desk and leaned back against the headboard of his bed.
It’s amazing how much can change in just three days. Ron and the twins haven’t asked me any questions, they let me hang out with them, even when I don’t talk, and I feel more comfortable with them now. I know they’ll really help when we get to Hogwarts.
“Harry?” Ginny’s voice came through the closed door. “Can I come in?”
“No! Anyone but you,” the boy called out, stifling his laughter.
The door open and a grinning Ginny Weasley entered. “Prat,” she said and she settled at the end of the bed. “Been reading?”
Harry nodded his head. “Fred’s Potions book.” He smiled at the redheaded witch. “If you’re not doing anything tomorrow, maybe we could go to the pond.” Harry strained to keep a neutral expression.
“You’ve been around George and Fred too much lately. I bet you thought that was funny.” Ginny raised her head so she looked down her button nose at Harry. “I doubt if even someone as thick as you has forgotten tomorrow is my tenth birthday.”
Harry faked a puzzled expression. “Really? You’re not taking the mickey from me? I wish I’d known earlier, I would have got you something.”
“Humph. That will teach me to be nice to a boy.”
Both children started laughing. When they finally calmed down, Harry spoke.
“I have an early present for you.”
Ginny smiled and looked curious as Harry moved over to the desk and opened up the top drawer. Her smile got bigger when she saw the name on the bag he had pulled out.
“Honeydukes candy?”
“When Professor McGonagall took me to Hogwarts, we stopped in Hogsmeade first. Take as many as you want.”
He handed the bag to her, and Ginny looked into it. “Oh, Chocolate Frogs. Let’s split them.” She handed one to Harry. “Be sure to grab the frog. They can hop away.”
Harry looked at her in doubt but was careful as he opened the wrapper. Sure enough the frog tried to hop away, but Harry’s hand shot out and grabbed it before it reached the desk.
“You weren’t kidding,” he said in surprise. He popped the chocolate into his mouth and looked at the card. “Nicholas Flamel. Oh, he worked with Dumbledore, and he’s the only known possessor of the Philosopher’s Stone that gives you immortality. Wow!”
“That’s a good one, Harry. I got Professor Dumbledore again. His card is pretty common. You can have the card on this last one, if I can have the chocolate.”
“Sure. I’m not really keen on candy that much.”
Ginny handed the package to Harry, and he tore off the wrapping. “I’ve got Merlin. I can’t believe this.”
Ginny grinned from ear to ear. “You’ve read all about him, right?”
“Yeah, beginning when I was five. The book you gave me was the latest. Professor McGonagall said she’d help me find more books at Hogwarts.”
“That’s great, Harry. Plus, Merlin’s card is really rare. You’re lucky.”
With a mouthful of chocolate, Harry decided just to nod his agreement. Once the kids were finished eating the chocolate, a few Chocoballs that Ginny thought were ‘divine,’ and a Fizzing Whizbee each, they went into the loo to brush their teeth prior to going to bed.
While they were returning to their bedrooms, Harry said, “Happy Early Birthday, Ginny.”
She reached out instinctively and was very pleased to see he didn’t step away. “Thanks for the candy, Harry.” She squeezed his arm, and he smiled back.
“This will be the first birthday party I’ve ever been to,” he said. “Well, except maybe my first one, but I don’t remember that at all.”
Ginny blinked rapidly, then a smile lit her face. “I’m really glad mine could be the first one that you can remember.”
He smiled back. “Me, too. Good night.”
“See you in the morning, Harry.”
“Not if I see you first.” Harry grinned.
“Prat.” Ginny grinned back.
Harry had just finished changing into his pyjamas when he heard the sound of someone knocking on the door. “Come in,” he called out.
The door opened, and Mr Weasley asked, “Do you want to hear another story, Harry?”
The boy smiled. “Th . . . that would be great.”
Mr Weasley walked over to the end of the bed and sat down. “I bet you’d like to know what your parents did.”
He nodded his head energetically.
“You know from my story last night your father was quite the joker, along with his three mates. But James had another side, too. Since times were dark when he and your mother graduated from Hogwarts, he decided to become an Auror.” When Harry looked confused, Arthur added, “They are similar to Muggle peacemen.”
Harry’s forehead furrowed. “Oh, you mean policemen?”
Mr Weasley smiled. “That’s the name.”
“James wanted to help fight in the war, so he enrolled in the Auror training program. When we visited, he would tell us everything he could about what was going on. Some things were secret, you know. Harry, you would have been proud of your father, because he was on the front lines, fighting against You Know Who and his Death Eaters.”
“Death Eaters?”
“Oh, they were the dark wizards and witches that followed He Who Must Not Be Named.”
When Harry looked puzzled, Mr Weasley clarified. “Oh, that’s just another name for You Know Who.”
Harry nodded his head in understanding.
“Your mum also worked for the Ministry of Magic, but she was in a different department, called the Department of Mysteries. Lily was the most outstanding witch of her year at Hogwarts, and I’m told she was brilliant in Charms and Potions. The Department of Mysteries does research into creating new charms, potions, and spells of all kinds, as well as other things that they don’t tell us about.
“Lily couldn’t tell us much about what she was working on, but I’m sure it had something to do with either Charms or Potions or maybe a combination of both. Only the most brilliant wizards and witches are accepted into the Department of Mysteries, so you can see that your mum was a very smart witch.”
Mr Weasley’s words warmed Harry like a summer breeze. I’m finally learning about my parents. I wish Dumbledore was like Mr Weasley. It would make everything easier.
“Th . . . thanks, Mr Weasley. T . . . tomorrow night again?” Harry asked.
Mr Weasley smiled. “That would be fine, Harry. I think I have a few more stories you would enjoy.” The man kneeled down, and gently moved his arm towards Harry. “Good night, lad.”
Harry froze, staring at the hand, not sure what to do, and afraid the man would change into the other wizards again. Harry saw a fleeting expression of disappointment on Mr Weasley’s face, but it was instantly replaced by his usual smile, and it fuelled Harry’s resolve. The man started to pull his arm back, but Harry’s hand shot out so fast it was a blur. Mr Weasley held his hand still and looked at the small boy.
Harry looked at his suspended hand and the short distance between it and the nicest man he had ever met. A feeling of need overwhelmed the boy, and he pushed his hand the few remaining centimetres, sucking in air when their hands finally touched. Then, he felt the calming warmth the man’s hand generated.
Harry closed his eyes and squeezed the man’s hand, and then revelled in the feeling as it gently closed around his. Harry opened his eyes again to see a smile that could only be described as paternal.
Harry found himself in the same small boat as in his previous dream. He quickly noticed two differences this time. The boat sat on placid waters, which Harry could navigate with easy-to-use oars. The second and much more curious change was that someone else was in the boat with him. As usual, though, he could not identify who it was sitting next to him, except that he was certain it was not the Neptune-like figure from before. A calm feeling pervaded the dream until . . .
Harry felt himself yanked from the boat, as his surroundings instantly changed from sunny and peaceful to dark and threatening. Thunder drummed through the night sky and lightning bolts flashed by him. Seconds later, the unearthly motion stopped, and Harry appeared inside a dimly lit room.
He could make out two figures sitting on a sofa; both were larger than the person who had sat next to him in the boat, though they too were obscured. When Harry tried to get a clearer view, he realised that they appeared to be playing with a small boy lying between them. The crimson and golden fire sparkled in the fire place, and though it was quiet in the room, Harry could still hear the ominous sounds of the storm approaching the small bungalow.
The two people jumped when thunder cracked directly above the small house, and the little boy began to whimper. Seconds later, the front door was blown apart, with splinters flying into the walls and furniture from the force of the blast. A flash of lightning highlighted a tall, thin man standing in the doorway, a wand held in his hand.
“Lily, take Harry upstairs and Apparate. Take Harry now!” one of the figures said, desperation underscoring every word. “I’ll hold him off. Go! I love you!”
“Come with me, sweetheart. There, there, it will be alright,” a woman’s soft voice whispered as she picked the small boy up and raced to the stairs. She looked back at the man. “I love you, James,” she softly said, then the woman sped up the stairs and into a light blue-coloured room, the walls painted with people on brooms racing after balls, including an elusive golden one with wings. A baby’s crib sat against one wall.
Angry words, flashes of a sickening green light, and crashing noises reached the room. Then, a high-pitched cackling laugh and the sound of someone falling heavily to the floor.
“James!” the woman screamed, as tears streamed down her cheeks.
The woman had a wand in her hand, but she became increasingly frustrated. Finally, she whispered in a chilled voice. “He must have cast anti-Apparition wards. Oh Merlin, what should I do?”
She placed the infant in the crib and began to mumble words too quiet and unusual to understand. “I love you with all my heart and with all my life, Harry.” She kissed him tenderly on the forehead.
Footsteps on the stairs soon brought the tall, thin man to the small boy’s room. He stood in the doorway, looking from the woman to the infant in the crib. She moved so she now stood directly between the man and her son.
“Move aside, silly girl,” came the man’s surprisingly high, sibilant voice. “You don’t need to die, just your son.”
“No! Not Harry! Take me instead!” the woman begged.
“If you insist.” High-pitched laughter cracked through the room, then the coldly spoken "Avada Kedavra!”
The woman slumped to the floor and didn’t move again.
The tall, thin man moved towards the crib, so he now stood only a metre from the infant. The boy’s emerald eyes stared at the blood-red slits the man had instead of eyes. The words again hissed from the man’s thin lips.
“Avada Kedavra!”
Green light slashed towards the small boy much like the lightning strikes from the storm outside. The curse exploded against the infant’s forehead.
In the next split second, the green light rebounded off the infant and hit the shocked man in the chest. The boy’s screams of pain joined those of the man and everything turned dark.
“AAAHHH!!!”
Harry thrashed wildly, screaming, sweating, his head pounding and his throat raw, trying to break free of whatever was holding him down. Consciousness came and his emerald eyes snapped open.
He was in a bedroom. The Weasleys. His eyes darted around the room, searching for the woman or the tall, slender man. He found no one.
Footsteps clattered down the stairs.
Oh God. That was my mum and dad being killed by Voldemort. The boy felt dizzy as his breathing became exceedingly fast and shallow. It wasn’t Dumbledore. Voldemort broke into our house and killed them. He tried to kill me.
“AHHH!
“Harry? It’s Mr Weasley. I’m coming in, son.” The door opened, revealing the distraught man and his wife nervously standing behind him.
The man slowly walked into the room, kneeled down, and held his arms open wide. “It’s okay, Harry.”
Harry felt a tidal wave of emotion sweeping him forward, as he launched himself into Arthur Weasley’s open arms and buried his head on the man’s shoulder. A decade’s reservoir of tears broke through the dam the boy had built and flooded his cheeks and dampened the wizard’s robe.
Sobs erupted from the centre of the boy’s soul, as he tried to release the poisons created by Dumbledore’s decisions and the Dursleys’ actions over the past decade. Harry’s strength dissolved, and he sagged against the man, who gently held him in a warm, fatherly embrace, lightly running a hand up and down the boy’s back and whispering comforting words.
The boy finally gave in and placed his arms around the man who held him. In that moment, Arthur Weasley knew he had been entrusted with the future of his friends’ son. With a determination so fierce it raged through his body like an inferno, he made a vow. ‘Merlin help anyone who tries to harm this child.’
Harry felt like everything inside him was pouring out. He felt drained, almost like he was just a shell, hanging on to himself by the thinnest of strands. But a strange feeling began to spread through his body, as warm, comforting sounds reached his ears and began to fill him, replacing the poisons and despair brought by his time with his relatives.
Harry felt another pair of arms encircle his shoulders. They were small in size but very warm. And soon a third pair joined the first two, bigger, more encompassing. He could remember that feeling, but it was so vague as to be more like a barely remembered but cherished dream.
Harry’s breathing slowed. The anger and fear dissipated. He opened his eyes and was startled at the sight that met his gaze.
Mr and Mrs Weasley were kneeling on the floor their arms holding him tightly, tears trailing unashamedly down their cheeks, their eyes warm and inviting. But where was the third person? The boy turned his head and found himself staring into cinnamon eyes encircled with golden flecks. They, too, held tears, but they sparkled in their openness and innocence.
Ginny moved her head back and mouthed, ‘Okay, Harry?’
He took a large gulp of air. ‘Yeah,’ he mumbled, nodding his head slightly.
She smiled, and he immediately knew why. They were holding him, and he hadn’t flinched, hadn’t run away, and was, in fact, revelling in the feeling of closeness.
He smiled back.
He knew instinctively this was but the first step in a very long, difficult journey. But for the first time in many years, he knew he was headed in the right direction.
“Thank you,” he whispered to the three people closest to him.
Chapter 16: Birthday Surprises
Author's Notes: Despite the unusual situations with the March DSTAs, I still would like to thank everyone who has nominated and/or voted for Saving Harry. You really make this trip worthwhile!
Despite my sneaky attempts to make the story somewhat incomprehensible and vaguely ungrammatical, the brilliant beta, cwarbeck, always catches these cleverly hidden errors. Thanks, cel!
Melindaleo/Arnel Tissue Alert: Hmmm . . . there may be a couple of scenes that stimulate production from your tear ducts.
As Harry looked from Ginny to Mr Weasley and finally to Mrs Weasley, a warm feeling, one of belonging, coursed through his body and eliminated the adrenaline-producing shock of his dream.
“Thank you,” he repeated.
The three Weasleys moved back slightly, loosening their hold on him, but each still remaining in contact with Harry, something for which he was profoundly happy.
Mr Weasley spoke first. “What was your dream about, lad?” Harry closed his eyes, and Mr Weasley quickly added, “You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to.”
Harry opened his eyes and looked at the man. “It was when Vol . . . Voldemort killed my parents and tried to kill me.”
Gasps from more than the three Weasleys holding him reached Harry’s ears. He looked up to see Ron, the twins, and even Percy standing in the bedroom. All had eyes wide open in shock.
Harry repeated the dream in an emotionless, mechanical tone, his eyes and expression virtually blank “I was in our living room . . . when he shot the Killing Curse at me, I thought my head was going to explode.” He instinctively touched the scar on his forehead. “But before I passed out, I saw the green light bounce off my head and hit him in the chest. We were both screaming. He kind of . . . exploded . . . and turned to mist. That’s the last thing I remember. That part seemed to move in slow motion, but it probably was just a few seconds.” Harry shrugged.
The Weasleys had remained quiet throughout Harry’s description of the dream. Before the inevitable avalanche of questions broke loose, Mr Weasley quickly looked around the room. “That was incredibly brave of you to tell us that, Harry.” Noting the boy’s flushed complexion, Mr Weasley continued. “I’m sure it was very hard for you to describe the dream, especially in such detail. We will not ask you any questions. If you want to talk about it more, we would be happy to listen to you. Alright, lad?”
Harry slowly nodded his head, while becoming aware of a small hand that had been rubbing his back, moving in small, reassuring circles. “Th . . . thank you . . . for all of this.” He looked at each of the family members. “It . . . helps a lot.”
Harry’s comment was met by all of the Weasleys nodding their heads, and Harry felt another wave of good feelings wash through his body. Mrs Weasley’s concerned expression captured his attention.
“Will you be able to sleep on your own or would you rather sleep in another bedroom?” she asked.
Harry thought for a few moments. He felt calm, even buoyed by the Weasleys’ reaction. “I’ll be okay. Th . . . thanks, Mrs Weasley.”
Her eyes remained locked on his, until she felt sure Harry was telling the truth and not just putting up a brave front.
“If you need to, it’s more than alright to come to our bedroom should you want to,” she said and gently squeezed his shoulder.
The gesture, along with Mr Weasley’s and Ginny’s hands still holding him, briefly brought back a vague memory. It was almost entirely emotion, but in it, his parents were holding him, and he could feel love flowing through their embrace. It was the first time he could remember such a detailed action, and it filled him with a feeling of being whole and . . . worthwhile, not the “unnatural freak” the Dursleys labelled him.
Harry nodded his understanding of Mrs Weasley’s offer.
Mr and Mrs Weasley stood up, and they and Ginny withdrew their hands. Harry was surprised and very pleased that the warm feeling remained.
With a chorus of ‘good nights,’ all the Weasleys left Harry’s bedroom, except for Ginny. She moved in front of him and stared into his eyes. Harry returned her gaze, and after a few moments, she started smiling.
“You’re okay,” she stated, rather than asked, softly.
“Because of you and your family,” he replied.
“It’s a new feeling for you, isn’t it?”
He grinned. “Nah, your family’s just like my relatives.”
She made a face. “Prat.”
“Yup.”
Ginny turned when she reached the door. “Goodnight, Harry.”
Harry smiled. “G’night, Ginny. Happy Birthday.” He pointed to the small clock on his desk, which showed 12:07 on its dial.
“Thanks, Harry.” She grinned. “I’m ten now.”
As soon as she shut the door, Ginny did a little dance in the hallway. The dream may have been horrible, she thought, but it sure lead to something good.
Both children quickly fell asleep, with no more interruptions.
August eleventh arrived as a warm, cloudless day at The Burrow. When Harry got up, he could hear activity already. Memories of the previous night flooded his mind, and he felt his skin heat up with embarrassment. That dream really got to me. I don’t like people seeing me like that. I sure hope that Ron and the twins don’t take the mickey out of me for crying and letting their parents and Ginny hug me.
After putting on his robe, he made his way downstairs, still feeling self-conscious and not knowing how the others would react to him. Mrs Weasley bustled around the kitchen. A spatula magically stirred batter in a large bowl, while eggs and sausages fried in pans on the stovetop, and a knife sliced red, ripe strawberries.
A round of ‘good mornings’ greeted Harry when he entered the kitchen. He blinked several times, then muttered, “Mornin’,” before he walked directly to Ginny. “Happy Bir . . . birthday,” he said quietly, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks when she smiled at him, her round brown eyes bright with happiness.
“Thank you, Harry.”
He noticed all of the Weasley children were seated at the large table. Mr Weasley hadn’t come down yet.
“Can I h . . . help, Mrs Weasley?” he asked.
Molly looked up, obviously startled by his question. “Thank you, dear, but I have everything under control.” With several waves of her wand and an uttered incantation, the batter rose from the bowl and made four perfectly round pancakes in a third frying pan.
Ginny watched Harry, then said, “We each get to pick what we want for our birthday breakfast. I get pancakes and strawberries each year.”
Ron jumped in. “I just order double portions of what Mum usually makes — eggs, sausages, bacon, fried potatoes, and toast. That’s the one time I never leave the table hungry.”
The twins had been eyeing Harry speculatively. One of the twins asked, “Ickle Harrikins,” the boy looked up in response to the strange name, “what did you do for your last birthday?”
Harry immediately felt all eyes on him, with the exception of Mrs Weasley’s. His breathing became laboured and shallow. With his eyes glued to the wooden floor, he finally choked out a response. “Nuh . . . nothing.”
Without thinking, Ron and the twins exclaimed about the unfairness of birthdays not being celebrated. Percy looked at Harry with his head tilted slightly to the side. Only Ginny understood what Harry was feeling.
“Excuse me,” she said loudly. “It’s my birthday. As your favourite sister . . .”
“Our only sister,” George reminded her.
“No interruptions, please. As the birthday girl today, I demand total attention. I do not want to share it, even with someone as interesting as Harry.”
Her brothers looked shocked, staring open-mouthed at their youngest and only sister. But it worked. The questions directed at Harry stopped, and the three boys started talking about Quidditch.
Harry sat down across from Ginny and mouthed, ‘Thanks.’ She nodded, a slight smile lighting her freckled face.
The day passed quickly, with Harry spending his time reading Fred’s second year Charms book, practicing the spells discussed, and mostly observing the Weasley children being Weasleys. By mid-afternoon, they were all helping Mr and Mrs Weasley get ready for Ginny’s party.
A long picnic table, with equally long benches, was set up in the garden area behind the house, streamers and balloons were magically created — all in Gryffindor red and gold — and fairy lights were strewn throughout the yard though it was bright outside and promised to remain so for many more hours. Mrs Weasley had baked the largest cake Harry had ever seen — chocolate with whipped cream frosting and crushed strawberries decorating the top and between each of the three layers.
Mr Weasley was preparing an old Muggle barbeque, similar to one Harry had seen at the Dursleys. But instead of using lighter fluid and a match, he was trying to start the coals by magic, without much luck.
Ron whispered, “This happens every time Dad tries to cook on the, uh, barbricky. He never can get the fire started, then Mum starts to yell at him, and they end up cooking the meat on the stove in the kitchen.”
Whoosh!!!
All eyes turned towards Mr Weasley and the now blazing barbeque. He had backed away several feet, because the flames reached above his rather tall head. After everyone first checked to make sure Mr Weasley hadn’t incinerated himself, the assembled family members started laughing uproariously.
Mr Weasley looked around sheepishly and said, “I guess I put a little too much power into that last Incendio spell.” After another roar of laughter, Mr Weasley added, “I think I should wait a few minutes until this fire has calmed down a bit.”
Mr Weasley turned toward the house, and greeted Professor McGonagall, who had just emerged from the back door. “Hello, Minerva. I’m glad you could attend Ginny’s birthday.”
The witch issued a small smile. “Thank you for inviting me, Arthur.” She continued walking and placed her gift on a small table that already contained other presents.
Percy got up from the picnic table. “It’s a pleasure to see you, Professor. I trust your summer has been a good one so far.” Percy held a book in his hand, Tremendous Transfigurations and the Talented Teachers That Taught Them, with the title facing the witch.
The twins tried to hold back their laughter but were woefully unsuccessful. Fred said in a stage whisper, which everyone could hear, “Corking to see you again, Oh Head of our House.”
George picked up the comment without missing a beat. “I do hope you have noticed that I have a book in my hands on the subject you teach?”
“Boys,” Mr Weasley cautioned but with a small smile on his face.
Percy turned red, glared at the twins and sat back down.
McGonagall lifted her eyebrows at the two troublemakers, but the corners of her lips twitched slightly before returning to their usual straight line. She walked over to the picnic bench and sat down next to Harry, pleased that he hadn’t flinched at her physical proximity.
“Hello, Miss Weasley. Happy Birthday.”
Ginny smiled. “Thanks, Professor.”
“Mr Potter, it is nice to see you again. I hope all continues to go well with you.”
“It is, Pro . . . fessor.” He paused, as a look of determination came over his face. “Th . . . thank you for ex . . . plaining about the address on the envelope. It helped.”
The professor smiled at the small boy. “I’m very pleased that you and Miss Weasley decided to trust her mother and me. I hope you will continue to do so, Mr Potter.”
Harry tentatively moved his hand so it was suspended about halfway between him and the professor. McGonagall gazed at it, momentarily confused by the boy’s gesture. Within several seconds, her eyes lit up when it became clear what Harry meant by the gesture. She slowly eliminated the remaining distance and gently grasped his hand.
McGonagall blinked rapidly and sniffled. Finally letting go of his hand, the professor softly said, “Harry, I’ll always be available to you at Hogwarts, but I hope you realise that I need to maintain a professional distance in front of the other students.”
Harry nodded his head. “I understand. Th . . . thanks, Professor.” Feeling like they were being watched, Harry looked around the table and noticed a number of Weasleys quickly turning away or staring at the plates in front of them.
The party progressed without any explosions, which was surprising given the twins’ presence, just good food and joking conversation. Finally, it was time for presents, and Ginny picked one from the stack her mum had set next to her.
The card identified the sloppily wrapped present as coming from Ron. Ginny smiled and held the box next to her forehead. “Let me guess. Yes, I’m getting an image. It’s . . .”
“Chocolate Frogs,” the twins shouted.
Quickly tearing open the wrapping paper, Ginny held up four Chocolate Frogs. Putting them back down, she selected a large, garishly wrapped box that Harry guessed was from the twins. It was and turned out to be a selection of joke products and dungbombs from Zonko’s. Mrs Weasley immediately confiscated the dungbombs, despite the vociferous complaints coming from the twins and Ginny.
Ron leaned over and explained. “Zonko’s is the wizarding joke shop. It has loads of pranking stuff — dungbombs, Fanged Frisbees, and other products.”
Harry remembered that he and Professor McGonagall had passed the store when they visited Hogsmeade. He could now understand why the witch had walked past it without even glancing at the store. He blocked his memories of the rest of that trip, especially the visit with Dumbledore, by thinking of Ginny and the fun she was having.
By this time, Ginny had torn apart a meticulously wrapped present and thanked Percy for a huge book that she quickly put down. Harry glanced at the title — Hogwarts: A History. Professor McGonagall’s gift was opened next, a very nice leather-bound journal, with Ginny’s initials, GMW in gold script, on the cover.
“It’s for writing down your thoughts, and the journal can be charmed so no one else can read them. I’ll show you how to do that later.”
“Thank you, Professor,” the birthday girl said.
Two presents remained, and Harry was surprised to see Ginny pick the one from her parents. The large box contained various pieces of clothing — three shirts, a denim skirt, a flowery sundress, and other items that Ginny didn’t pull from the box.
Harry felt several pairs of eyes flick towards him, then to Ginny, as she reached for her last present. He looked up at her just in time to be gifted with a sparkling smile.
“Whatever, it is, Harry, I’m sure I’ll like it,” she said.
Harry could feel the heat rising up his neck and reaching his cheeks, as Ginny slowly, carefully removed the wrapping paper. Once it was off, she folded it and placed the paper with her other presents. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed puzzled looks on the face of each of her brothers and small smiles from her parents.
She pulled the top off the box and stared at the contents. Everyone at the table leaned forward, as Ginny exclaimed. “Harry, these are wonderful. Thank you so much.”
One by one, she pulled out a ream of cream-coloured parchment, an array of eight different coloured inks, and a beautiful eagle feather quill.
Several seconds of silence elapsed, as Harry felt like he wanted to slide under the table to escape the inquisitive looks he was receiving. Then, a cacophony of comments came from the Weasley family members, rendering them nothing but noise. Finally, Mrs Weasley’s voice broke through.
“Harry, how did you buy those gifts?”
Professor McGonagall looked at Harry, her eyebrows arched slightly. He stiffened, then nodded once. “Molly, Harry told me what he wanted to get for Ginny, and we picked them up in Diagon Alley when I bought the journal.”
Mrs Weasley turned slowly towards Harry. “That’s so nice of you, Harry. But you didn’t have to do so much.”
Ginny quickly protested. “Mum.”
Harry could feel the moisture on his forehead flattening his fringe and beginning to drip down the sides of his face. He looked at the table. “I . . . I wanted to.” He took a deep breath and straightened his back. “She can write letters to her brothers, since she won’t have anyone here.”
Ginny counted the bottles of ink and quickly did the math: six for her brothers, including Bill and Charlie, one for her journal entries, and . . . her heart caught . . . Harry was shyly looking at her . . . one for him. An absolutely indescribably warm feeling flowed over her.
“Oh, Harry, I understand the eighth one. Thank you!”
Her smile filled the garden, and she started to reach across the table to squeeze Harry’s hand. His eyes got bigger, but Ginny stopped half way across.
“May I?”
Harry looked directly into her glistening cinnamon eyes and nodded. Ginny quickly eliminated the distance and squeezed his hand. Both children started at the warmth coming from the other’s hand. One smile reflected the other, and Ginny mouthed ‘Thanks, Harry.’
Molly Weasley broke into the two-person world Ginny and Harry had created. “Time for cake.”
The presents were quickly moved to the small table next to the house, and Mrs Weasley brought out the enormous strawberry-decorated chocolate cake. The ten candles were lit, and everyone sang “Happy Birthday,” though the twins oddly sang it at a funereal tempo. When they finally finished — with Mrs Weasley glaring at them — Ginny took a big breath and blew on the candles arrayed in a circle on the top of the cake.
They flickered, then blazed even more brightly.
Ginny’s forehead furrowed, and she inhaled even more deeply. Napkins across the table were moved by the force of the air exhaled by the small girl.
The candles smiled back at her, burning even more brightly than before.
Ginny scowled, then a sunny smile split her face, and she looked up. Harry followed her line of sight directly to the twins, who were busily looking in the other direction.
“Fred, George,” the birthday girl said, “good one. Never-extinguish candles, right?”
“Us?” George put his hand to his heart.
“You wound us, sister dear,” Fred said, sadly shaking his head.
“We would never prank our favourite . . .”
“. . . and only sister,” Ginny interrupted. “I think it’s great. Thanks for brightening my birthday.”
The rant on Molly’s lips that was seconds from being released, slipped into silence at Ginny’s smiling acceptance of the twins’ prank. “Ginny, why don’t you slice the cake, and we’ll hand it out?”
“Okay, Mum.”
She smiled at her family but especially at the twins, then leaned towards Harry, cupping her hands on either side of her mouth, so no one could hear what she was whispering. Harry nodded his head and smiled somewhat mischievously, matching the look on the birthday girl’s face.
By this time, the candles were emitting an even brighter light and sending out sparks like ten small fireworks displays, making them nearly impossible to pull out of the cake.
Ginny nodded her head, and Harry pointed his right hand at a candle, levitated it a few centimetres, and set it next to the edge of the cake. The assembled Weasleys gasped, then leaned forward, trying to figure out what the two youngest members of the family were doing. Harry looked around briefly, trying to keep from laughing out loud, pressing his lips tightly together when he saw his professor’s eyes sparkling with mirth.
Ginny just smirked as Harry continued to levitate and move each candle so they filled a small area of the cake. When the tenth candle was placed down, Ginny quickly made cuts into the cake on each side of the candles. Harry levitated the sparkling piece of cake onto a waiting plate and floated it down the table, placing it between the twins.
“Eat up, boys,” Ginny encouraged, as the twins started the laughter that circled the table.
When the laughter finally subsided, the twins stood up and bowed deeply towards Ginny, repeating, “We’re not worthy; we’re not worthy . . .”
“And don’t you forget it.” Ginny grinned at her brothers, and nodded her head graciously.
“We’ve taught her well, brother dear,” George said to Fred.
“A little too well,” replied his bookend.
“Uh, Ginny could you cut some more pieces and hand them out?” Ron pleaded. “I’m starving.”
Amid the renewed laughter and comments about Ron’s bottomless pit, Ginny cut more pieces of the cake and Harry floated them to the remaining family members and their guest.
After mouthing “Happy Birthday” and eating part of a piece of cake, Harry’s stomach began to crash and roil like waves in an angry ocean. He quickly excused himself and raced as discreetly as he could into the house, up the stairs, and into the loo, moments before a week’s worth of more food than he would usually have in a month plummeted like an avalanche tearing down a mountainside.
Fifteen minutes later, Ron knocked on the door. “You okay in there, Harry?”
“Stomach,” Harry groaned.
“Gotcha,” Ron replied and left.
Another fifteen minutes later, Mrs Weasley inquired, “Harry dear, are you alright?”
In reaction to Mrs Weasley’s innocent question, Harry’s complexion quickly moved from the pasty white his stomach problem had caused to beet red.
“Stomach’s upset.”
There was a moment of silence, then Mrs Weasley said, “Oh, I understand. Once you’re finished, see me. I have a potion that will fix you right up.”
Then she left and Harry began breathing again. Once his stomach stopped causing problems, he washed his hands thoroughly, went back downstairs and found Mrs Weasley in the kitchen.
“Here you go, Harry.” She handed him a goblet of some pink-coloured liquid. “Just drink it straight down.”
He did and tried not to make a face at the flat, chalky taste. But his stomach immediately quieted.
Mrs Weasley said, “If you start to have stomach problems again, just let me know, and I’ll make this up for you.” She paused. “You’re not used to eating this much, are you?”
The boy just shook his head.
“Harry, don’t worry about that. That’s in the past. We’ll take care of you.”
Mrs Weasley smiled at Harry and forgot to stop her mothering instincts. But as she reached out to ruffle the boy’s hair, he stepped back an equal distance, remaining out of her arm’s reach. Realizing what she was doing, Mrs Weasley pulled back her hand and tried to keep her sad feelings from showing.
Harry immediately closed his eyes and took a deep breath. She’s only doing what she does to everyone. She’s not going to hurt me.
He looked at the woman, his stomach lurching when he saw her distressed expression. “Sorry, Mrs Weasley. He took a step towards her. “It’s okay.”
She looked closely at the boy, not wanting to do anything that would make him uncomfortable. “Are you sure, Harry?”
He nodded.
Her hand moved slowly towards his shoulder and gently squeezed it. He forced his hand towards hers and laid it on top. Mrs Weasley rewarded him with a warm smile.
“We’ll never hurt you, Harry.” Molly Weasley wanted to say so much more, especially how upset she was that he had been mistreated. But somehow she knew her actions would be far more meaningful to the newest boy in her family. “Shall we go back outside?” She squeezed his shoulder.
“Yes,” he replied and squeezed her hand. This is what touching should be.
As Harry walked back to the garden picnic table, all eyes turned towards him. He could feel his face exploding like the twins’ sparkling candles, with red blotches bursting on his cheeks. But in a split second, they returned to their conversations. They just wanted to see who it was. No smart remarks like Uncle Vernon or Dudley would have made.
Harry returned to his place by Ginny, and she asked, “Everything okay, Harry?”
He nodded. “Stomach. Still getting used to all this food.”
Ginny smiled. “Just don’t try to keep up with Ron. We think he must have two hollow legs.”
Both kids grinned at each other, until Mr Weasley’s voice pulled their attention to him.
“Ron, twins, why don’t you three go flying?” Mr Weasley suggested.
The twins immediately understood they were being dismissed, but Ron turned to Harry. “C’mon, let’s go.”
Molly said, “Ron, Harry will join you boys later.”
Ron blinked, then his eyes brightened. “Oh, okay. See you later.” He left the table and walked towards the shed with the twins.
Mr Weasley looked at Harry. “Lad, we thought it would be a good idea for us to discuss the dream you had last night. Are you up to doing that again?”
Harry closed his eyes. They want to help. This isn’t punishment. The professor needs to know. “O . . . kay.”
“Good, lad. Thank you. Just take your time,” Mr Weasley said.
Harry took a deep breath and seemed to sink into himself, as he repeated the dream in the same emotionless voice he had used the first time. He was aware that the professor had gasped several times during the retelling, but he continued the story without stopping.
When he reached the end of the dream, he whispered two more thoughts. “I th . . . thought Pro . . . fessor Dumbledore had lied to m . . . me.” He saw the witch stiffen slightly, though her face remained in its neutral mask. “I thought he had made up this Vol . . . Voldemort guy . . . th . . . that he didn’t exist . . . and that . . . Dumbledore had . . . . . . ki . . . killed my parents.”
McGonagall and the others gasped. Her hand went to her mouth, as did that of Mrs Weasley. Mr Weasley rubbed his forehead.
After taking in the adults’ reactions, Harry became aware of something moving on his hand. He looked down and found his left arm stretched across the table. He stared in surprise as he saw his hand enwrapped in both of Ginny’s small hands, her right thumb tracing circles on the back of his hand. He had no idea when this had started. He looked at her eyes and was surprised by the warmth radiating from them. She’s not disgusted by what I said or afraid of me.
Their eyes locked, and Harry felt a calm, reassuring feeling flowing through their connection, filling him up and eliminating his doubts and negative feelings.
“Harry?”
He pulled his gaze from Ginny and followed the direction of the voice to Professor McGonagall. He immediately noticed her moist eyes and a lone tear slowly sliding from her left eye and down her cheek. “Why did you think Professor Dumbledore was the one . . . in the dream?”
He took a deep breath and disappeared inside himself again. “Every time before, all I could see was a tall, thin man in the dream . . .”
The professor interrupted. “You’ve had this dream before?” Her voice had a sharp edge to it.
Harry nodded his head. “Lots of times, as far back as I can remember. This one had the most detail. Before, I couldn’t see his face . . . he looked like Dumbledore, err, Professor Dumbledore, and no one had seen Voldemort, so . . .” He took another deep breath and felt Ginny squeeze his hand. He looked over and smiled faintly through watery eyes. “This time I saw his face.” He closed his eyes. “His face — the skin — was tight. He had no hair. He didn’t have a nose, just two holes there. And he had red slits for eyes.” Gasps from at least three people reached his ears, and Harry opened his eyes.
McGonagall looked shaken. “That was how he looked the last time we saw him.”
They sat in silence for a few moments, until Mr Weasley spoke. “Harry, please tell the professor about the ending of the dream, if it’s not too much for you.”
The boy’s blank expression and toneless voice returned. “After he killed my mother, he sent a green light towards me.” He looked at the professor. “I was in my crib. It hit my head here,” he touched his scar, “but it bounced off and hit him in the chest.” Harry placed his right hand in the middle of his own chest. “Before I passed out, I saw him explode and turn to mist. That’s it.”
“Thank you for sharing that with me, Harry. I can only imagine how difficult that was. I’m very, very proud of you,” McGonagall said, again blinking rapidly. “So, he turned to mist. That’s very odd,” she said almost to herself. Becoming aware of the others again, she said, “This lends credence to Albus’ contention that . . . that . . .” the professor looked at Harry “Vol . . . Voldemort is still alive. A normal Killing Curse would not have turned him to mist.”
Mr and Mrs Weasley nodded their heads, and the group sat in silence again. Finally, a questioning voice broke the stillness.
“Professor, why did Voldemort try to kill me?”
Four heads snapped up simultaneously.
Ginny’s grip tightened dramatically, crushing his fingers together, then it relaxed just as quickly. Harry looked at her and was puzzled by an expression he had never seen before. He turned to Mrs Weasley and was shocked to see the same expression on her face. It’s . . . so strong . . . she had the same look when Dumbledore and McGonagall brought me here. It’s almost like she’d fight someone for me. The realization came out of nowhere and almost knocked the small boy off the bench. They . . . they want to protect me. Harry felt his insides swelling to the point where he was going to burst. They want to help me. They are the people my parents told me about in the dreams.
Harry’s revelations were interrupted by the professor’s reply. “I don’t know why he tried to kill you, Harry. But I will talk to Professor Dumbledore about it, and one or both of us will contact you. Is that acceptable?”
Harry was still reeling from the thoughts he had been having, but he had heard enough to respond. “Yes, th . . . thank you.”
Arthur cleared his throat. “Minerva, I’m probably asking a lot, but Harry and Ginny put together a lot of questions for the headmaster. Would it be asking too much if you or he could address them, too?”
“I don’t think that’s asking too much, Arthur. I’ll bring them up when I talk with Albus hopefully later today.”
“Thank you, Minerva.”
The professor looked at Ginny. “As much as I would like to stay here, I should return to school. Shall we put the charm on the journal before I leave?”
“Oh, yes, that would be great!” Ginny got up from the bench and retrieved the journal. A few minutes later, it had been warded so only she could open or read it.
“Happy Birthday, Miss Weasley. Enjoy the rest of your day.” She squeezed Harry’s shoulder. “I will talk to you soon about your questions.”
“Thank you, Professor.”
Mr and Mrs Weasley accompanied the witch inside, so she could Floo back to the school. As soon as the adults had gone in, Ginny started talking.
“Wow! This has been some birthday. Didn’t I tell you that my brothers would get me exactly what they wanted? Ron loves food, so he gets me Chocolate Frogs. I get joke and pranking stuff from Fred and George — no surprise there. Percy, the bookworm, gets me a huge book. At least I got good stuff from my parents, Professor McGonagall, and especially you. All that parchment and all those different colours of ink and that beautiful quill. I’ve never had great stuff like that before, Harry, and I really like it. I didn’t expect you to get me something that nice. I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I was so proud of you when you talked about that horrible dream again. I know it must be really hard to see that happen, especially now that you saw their faces. V . . . Vol . . . Voldemort sounds horrible, almost like a snake. That’s disgusting. I wonder what he did to himself to get that way. And he may still be alive. That’s scary. But despite that, this may have been my best birthday ever . . . mostly because of you.”
Ginny finally took a breath and ducked her head, but she couldn’t hide the pretty blush that bloomed on her cheeks.
Harry’s smile had grown increasingly wider the longer she had spoken with great excitement. Harry remembered Ginny doing this a couple of times before, but he was pretty sure she had broken her own record this time. He also noticed she was still tightly holding his hand.
“So, you’ll write me at Hogwarts?” he asked.
Ginny raised her head and grinned. “If you’re lucky, Mr Potter.”
He grinned back. “Happy Tenth Birthday, Ginny.”
“Thanks, Harry.”
As soon as Minerva McGonagall arrived by Floo at her quarters at Hogwarts, she went to the Headmaster’s office. The door opened as she approached it, and a warm “Come in, Minerva,” greeted her. “How was Miss Weasley’s birthday party?”
The witch sat down after transfiguring one of the overstuffed chintz chairs in front of the headmaster’s desk into a straight-backed wooden chair with no cushion.
Albus Dumbledore held out an ornate candy dish. “Lemon drop?”
McGonagall resisted rolling her eyes, saying only, “No thank you.” When Dumbledore returned the dish to its place on his desk, she continued, “While I was at the Weasleys to help celebrate Ginny’s birthday, the real reason I wanted to talk with you is to discuss Harry Potter.” The normally stern professor took a deep breath. “Albus, according to the boy — and I have absolutely no reason to doubt him — he has been dreaming about that Halloween Night for as long as he can remember.”
“Oh, my.” The headmaster closed his eyes. Opening them again, the pain was obvious. “What did he say, Minerva?”
The professor bit back the emotions that were rolling through her. “Last night, Harry saw exactly what happened that horrible evening.” Albus winced and shook his head. “He saw his parents’ faces for the first time. Previously, they had been obscured, and he wasn’t sure who he was seeing. Now that he has been told about that part of his history, he knew the two adults being killed were his parents. From Harry’s description, V . . . Voldemort . . .” and the witch continued with the description of what the Boy Who Lived had told her just hours earlier.
“Albus, in this last dream, Harry saw V . . . Voldemort and described him perfectly. After using the Killing Curse on Lily, the monster tried to kill Harry. He actually remembers being hit by the curse.” She instinctively touched her forehead. “But he also remembers seeing it rebound and striking Voldemort in the chest. Harry said the body exploded and turned into mist.”
The headmaster looked puzzled by the last statement. “Even a rebounded Killing Curse should have killed Tom, not turn him to mist. What could have happened to cause that outcome? Alas, I’m sure there is no simple explanation for that. Another topic to be considered. I’m afraid it doesn’t augur well for our world or for Harry Potter.”
McGonagall sighed. “I thought you would come to that conclusion. I am afraid there is more, and it concerns you.” Albus’ eyebrows arched. “Up until this last dream when Harry saw Voldemort, he thought that person was you.”
Dumbledore’s eyes widened in shock. “How could he think I killed his parents?”
Minerva’s voice softened. “Albus, remember that Harry does not know many wizards. All he knew was that someone tall, slender and powerful was in that dream. You fit that general description.” She paused. “We both know he blames you for what happened at the Dursleys. It is not difficult to understand why a naive eleven-year old would jump to the conclusion that you were involved in other parts of his life. Regardless, it emphasizes the distance you have to make up with the boy.”
She caught the headmaster’s eyes with a penetrating stare. “Albus, I strongly suggest we immediately address the myriad issues surrounding Harry Potter, or else we will have a mess on our hands when he arrives at Hogwarts.”
The two educators discussed how best to answer the many questions Harry Potter either had asked or had written down, trying to strike a balance between complete disclosure and the amount of information the young boy could handle without returning to his mute shell or losing control of his temper and exploding again. By the time their discussion neared completion, the only light in the headmaster’s office was that provided by candles, as the sun had set hours earlier.
“Albus, I beseech you to be as forthcoming as possible with the boy concerning his destiny. He already has grave concerns about you, especially the decisions that resulted in his parents dying and him being left with the Dursleys. Let me remind you that he now knows his parents sacrificed themselves for him and that V . . . Voldemort told Lily she needn’t die for him. That, in itself, demands honesty. Further, he asked me directly why Voldemort tried to kill him. He deserves a direct answer to that question. Harry knows there are too many missing pieces and has turned to us for an explanation to help him understand. He is a very perceptive young man, and I am certain he will not accept anything less than the full truth.”
The headmaster closed his eyes and rubbed his temples to quiet the raging headache the discussion had brought on. When he finally spoke, his voice contained none of its usual confidence or power.
“Minerva, I truly do not know what the best approach is. On the one hand, Harry is barely eleven-years old and the little social interaction he has had has been horribly negative. Yet he appears to both of us to have superior intelligence, a highly inquisitive mind, and startling magical power. I am afraid that I see our situation only as trying to determine which of these poor choices will be the least harmful to the child.”
McGonagall sighed. “The four youngest Weasley children have already told Harry about the war, why he is famous, and the level of attention he should expect to receive at Hogwarts. Do we want to leave it to those five to try to figure out why V . . . Voldemort tried to kill Harry?” The professor paused and her voice took on a hard edge. “I have hesitated saying this, but I fear that you are close to completely losing the boy’s trust. Harry knows he is being treated differently than any other student. He needs to be told why. If you do not tell him, you may lose him completely.”
“Despite your excellent points, Minerva, I am still opposed to telling Harry about the Prophecy at this point in his life. It would strip him of any remaining childhood, possibly have severe psychological and emotional ramifications, cause him to question the value of getting a broad-based magical education, and convince him to shun any social interaction. Can you imagine the impact of such a discussion? ‘Harry, you carry the hopes of the wizarding world you have just learned about against the darkest wizard in last half century.’ Then, I explain his fate — where only one of them can survive — is based on the one and only prophecy made by a witch most people think can’t see past the end of her nose. I’m sorry, but I cannot do that to the boy.”
“Then what am I to do, Albus? Certainly, you do not want me to lie to the boy, for most surely I will not do that.” The witch’s voice turned bitter. “I had hoped you would have wanted to talk with Harry, to try to re-establish a relationship with him. Apparently I was overly optimistic.”
Dumbledore briefly closed his eyes. “I will not consign Harry to a life whose only purpose is to become Tom’s killer. I will think more about this issue, as I do not want you to bear this burden alone.”
McGonagall left without another word.
“Hullo, lad.” Mr Weasley stood by the open door to Harry’s bedroom. “Would you like to hear another story about your parents?”
A smile lit the boy’s face. “Yes!” He reached over from where he was sitting at the top of his bed and placed the second year Potions book on the desk.
Mr Weasley took his usual place at the foot of the bed. “This isn’t a happy memory, Harry, but it does relate to the dream you had last night. Would you still like to hear it?”
Harry hesitated and then settled back against the headboard with determination. “Yes, please.”
“As you know, the times were dark. You Know Who had built up his forces . . .”
“The Death Eaters?”
“That’s right, Harry. They were becoming much more active in their, uh, actions, trying to destabilize the Ministry. The Ministry was not prepared for such a brutal war, so Professor Dumbledore assembled a group, which he called the Order of the Phoenix.” Harry furrowed his brow but continued to listen attentively. “Your parents, Mrs Weasley, I and a number of other people were members of the Order. Your parents were particularly irksome to You Know Who and his Death Eaters. Word got back to us that your Mum and Dad,” Mr Weasley looked sadly at the young boy, “well, they decided it was best to go into hiding. Professor Dumbledore cast a very complex charm that would hide them and you, but one of their friends told You Know Who where they were, which broke the charm.”
“Who was that fr . . . friend, Mr Weasley?” The elder Weasley looked at his newest family member, startled by the blazing look in the boy’s eyes, which contradicted his quiet words.
“Harry, we were all shocked to learn that it was someone everybody considered your father’s best friend, a man named Sirius Black. Lad, he is in Azkaban now.” When Harry looked confused, Mr Weasley clarified, “That is our wizarding prison. No one has ever broken out of it.”
“And I know what happened after that,” the boy said almost to himself. Looking up, he said, “Serious is a strange name.”
“Oh, it’s not ‘serious’ like the emotion. It is based on a star in a constellation — the Dog Constellation — and it’s spelt S-i-r-i-u-s but pronounced the same way.”
“Oh.” Harry looked like he had mentally filed the name away. “Thank you.”
“I don’t want to leave you with those thoughts, son. Let me tell you about the time the twins . . .”
By the time Mr Weasley had finished several stories about the twins, Harry was smiling and had even laughed occasionally at their more outrageous antics. Mr Weasley smiled to himself about the change in the boy’s demeanour from the first story.
“Goodnight, son.”
“G’night, Mr Weasley.”
The man started to say something, but then reconsidered. With a paternal smile, he slowly moved his hand towards the newest member of his family, stopping halfway between them.
Harry closed the distance without hesitation and grasped the man’s hand, receiving a gentle squeeze in return.
Mr Weasley smiled at the small boy. “Harry, don’t hesitate to come to our room tonight, if you need to. You’re not alone here. Okay?”
Harry nodded. “Thanks, Mr Weasley.”
Ginny sneaked downstairs when she saw her dad enter Harry’s bedroom. “Mum,” she said, entering the kitchen. “Dad and Harry are upstairs. Any luck on finding Harry’s pictures, stories, and memories?”
A bright smile broke over Molly’s face. “Much better than I anticipated. Remus Lupin has been a gold mine of information. Several dozen people are now searching through their albums and boxes, looking for pictures and any other mementoes they may have. I’ve received several owls already, with photos, a few very old Daily Prophet articles, and two letters where the person wrote about James and Lily. Remus is collecting the pensieve memories. Professor Dumbledore has been kind enough to promise the use of his pensieve, so we can show the memories to Harry.”
“When will we do that, Mum?” Ginny’s eyes sparkled.
“Before Harry and the boys go off to Hogwarts. I want to show him here.”
Ginny nodded. “It could be pretty hard on him. I know Harry would feel embarrassed if he cried in front of people. I still can’t believe he’s never seen a picture of his parents or himself.” Tears began to leak from the corners of her eyes. “To have the only memory of your parents be when they were killed is awful. Mum, it makes me so sad but furious at the same time, you know?”
“Yes, I know, sweetie. You’re sad for Harry, the poor boy who never knew his parents and had to live with those awful relatives of his. And you are furious at the people who caused this. But you know something, Ginny?” The young girl looked at her mum with curiosity. “You are being a wonderful friend to Harry, and I know he appreciates everything you are doing.”
Ginny beamed at her mum. As she closed the small distance between them, Ginny whispered, “He’s worth it,” and wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist.
Her mum smiled and gently held her youngest child. “Yes, he is, Ginny.”
A few moments later, they broke the warm hug. “I’m going to bed,” Ginny said, stifling a yawn. “G’night, Mum.”
“Goodnight, sweetheart.”
As Ginny reached the landing by her bedroom, she heard voices coming from Harry’s room. Dad and Harry are still talking, she thought. She considered knocking on the door and asking if she could join them, but quickly reconsidered, thinking she could be interrupting something important. Ginny crossed the hallway and entered her bedroom, whispering “Goodnight, Harry,” before she closed the door behind her.
The Weasleys’ kitchen fireplace flared, revealing the floating head of Minerva McGonagall.
“Molly?”
Molly Weasley looked up from the table that sat across from the fireplace. “Good evening, Minerva,” she said, a puzzled and slightly apprehensive expression on her face. “Is anything wrong?” Even ten years later, late night fire calls immediately took her back to the last war and the troubling news these calls usually contained.
“Oh, no. Sorry to disturb you, but I wanted to tell you about my conversation with Albus. Is Ginny around?”
“No, she went up to bed a bit ago.” Molly’s eyebrows arched. “Your conversation with the headmaster just ended?”
McGonagall sighed. “I’m afraid so. Albus is tremendously conflicted. He’s trying to do the very best he can for Harry, but he sees negatives to every approach we discussed. Albus is particularly concerned about the emotional impact telling everything would have on Harry. I think he truly wants to answer Harry’s questions, but he also does not want to send the boy back to his mute personality or chance another explosion of accidental magic.”
“Where do we stand then? Harry has legitimate questions.” Molly’s voice betrayed a little tightness.
“Indeed, he does, Molly. Albus is just trying to determine how much to tell Harry. He still has the boy’s best interests in mind, but he also has concerns about Harry’s ability to handle all of the information he has requested.” Molly frowned. “Albus promised me he would think carefully about this issue, and he or I will get together with you, Arthur, Ginny, and Harry once he has decided the best way to proceed.”
Molly sighed. “Harry is making such wonderful progress. I just hope Albus realizes he does not have the boy’s trust at this point, and he could seriously jeopardize their relationship if he does not answer Harry’s questions truthfully.”
McGonagall’s features softened briefly, accompanied by a faint smile. “I told Albus the same thing, Molly. We can only hope he realizes the seriousness of the situation.” McGonagall’s voice lightened. “Did you have any other questions?”
“No. Thank you for keeping us updated, Minerva. I know you will let us know when you want to meet.”
“That we will, Molly. Goodnight.” The professor’s head disappeared from the fire, leaving Molly sitting at the kitchen table with a very uneasy feeling.
Moments after Mr Weasley left his room, Harry headed for the loo to brush his teeth and to get ready for bed, while Mr Weasley went upstairs.
After completing his bedtime routine, Harry left the bathroom, but instead of heading towards his bedroom, the sound of intense voices, however, drew him down the stairs. Reaching the landing at the foot of the stairs, Harry easily identified the voices of Professor McGonagall and Mrs Weasley coming from the kitchen, though he had never heard the professor’s Scottish burr so strongly before.
“. . . he also does not want to send the boy back to his mute personality or chance another explosion of accidental magic.”
“Where do we stand then? Harry has legitimate questions.”
“Indeed, he does, Molly. Albus is just trying to determine how much to tell Harry. He still has the boy’s best interests in mind, but he also has concerns about Harry’s ability to handle all of the information he has requested. Albus promised me he would think carefully about this issue, and he or I will get together with you, Arthur, Ginny, and Harry once he had decided the best way to proceed.”
Harry could feel the heat raging inside of him. He turned angrily and sped up the stairs. He looked at Ginny’s door and shook his head. She’s probably asleep. I don’t want to wake her with my problems.
Harry entered his bedroom, the heat rolling off his body and sending rivulets of sweat down his back. He swiped irritably at the moisture on his forehead.
He’s still treating me like a mushroom.
I can’t trust Dumbledore at all. He thinks I’ll either go mute or explode again. Is what he has to tell me that bad? Or does he just want to keep me in the dark?
He never tells me anything. He just makes the decisions and expects me to go along without saying anything. That’s not going to happen this time.
He frantically looked around the room. He knew his anger was close to overflowing, and he needed to do something that wouldn’t cause any damage to the Weasleys’ house. His eyes fell on the Potions book, and he Summoned it to him with a small gesture of his hand.
Harry moved over to the bed, so he was standing next to the foot of it. He levitated the book up, almost to the ceiling, then jerked his arm down.
Whomp!
The book smashed against the mattress and bounced slightly. Harry raised his hand again, then brought the book down abruptly.
Whomp!
He thinks I can’t handle anything. He doesn’t trust me. Every decision Dumbledore has made has been horrible.
Whomp!
Sweat dripped down his forehead, matting his fringe. His shoulders, back, and chest were so moist his pyjama top stuck to him, making him feel claustrophobic.
Whomp!
The books on the desk tumbled to the floor, and the lamp moved to the edge of the desk, ready to join the books. A buzzing noise filled the room.
Whomp!
He’s doing it again. I won’t stand for it!
Whomp! Whomp! Whomp!
He turned at the sound of the door opening.
“Harry?”
Chapter 17: Truth or Consequences
Author's Notes: Get your Bat Bogey hexes ready, since this is the chapter where Harry and Dumbledore meet.
Thanks as always to cwarbeck for her editing magic and the speed with which she returns the chapters. Thanks also to Peter/MyGinevra for his valued opinions on a couple of scenes. If you aren't reading his brilliant The Hogs Head, I strongly recommend you do so . . . after you've read this chapter, of course.
“Harry?”
The small boy looked over his shoulder, his eyes blazing yet hard as a diamond. His arm remained pointed towards the ceiling where a book floated above the bed. Suddenly his arm slashed violently downward.
Whomp!
The redhead jumped at the explosive motion and the sound of the book smashing into the mattress.
“Ginny,” he said in a toneless voice.
With eyes wide, she asked in a shaky voice, “What’s wrong, Harry?”
The boy, noticing the timbre of her voice and the scared, questioning look in her eyes, slumped onto the bed.
“I’m sorry, Ginny,” he whispered. The boy disappeared inside himself, his face and eyes blank, yet conveying a pain so deep Ginny moved towards him without thinking.
“Why were you doing that with the book?” she asked hesitantly. The red-haired girl looked like she wanted to hug him, but shook her head and instead sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the boy.
He appeared startled by her question and turned slightly, picked up the book, and placed it on the desk. His voice was so soft that Ginny leaned forward to hear the words. “I was thinking the book was Dumbledore.”
Ginny couldn’t stifle her gasp. “Why was it Professor Dumbledore?”
Harry’s eyes moved from the book to the young girl sitting in front of him, noticing her look of surprise at his frown. “I overheard Professor McGonagall and your mum talking downstairs when I came out of the loo.”
His eyes closed for a few seconds. When they reopened, he blinked several times to compose himself. “The professor said Dumbledore was trying to figure out how much to tell me.” He heard Ginny’s breath catch in her chest. “He’s afraid I can’t control my emotions and I’ll explode or stop talking again.”
Ginny reacted without thought, overwhelmed by a feeling she couldn’t quite identify. She wrapped the boy in an awkward hug, standing in front of Harry and leaning down, her arms around his shoulders and her head next to his. After a few uncomfortable seconds, his hands settled lightly on her shoulders.
“I’m so sorry, Harry,” she whispered. “He just doesn’t understand.” Ginny pulled back from the hug, but both children kept their hands on the other’s shoulders.
Harry looked to the space on the bed to his right, and then back to Ginny. She sat down next to him and instinctively wrapped her arm around his waist. His hands settled in his lap.
“Gin, he’s still trying to control my life. He won’t even talk to me. I don’t understand why he wants to keep me in the dark like I’m some kind of mushroom.”
Ginny looked at him with a confused expression on her face. “Like a mushroom?”
Harry snorted. “It’s a Muggle saying, I guess. It means, uh, keeping someone in the dark,” Ginny nodded her understanding, “and, uh, shovelling, um, manure on them.”
Ginny started laughing, while Harry faintly smiled at her. Finally, she calmed down and with a wicked grin, she asked, “That’s how mushrooms are grown?”
“Rrright in one, Miss Weasssley,” Harry replied in his best impression of Professor McGonagall’s Scottish-accented ‘teacher’s voice.’
Both kids started to laugh. After a few moments, though, Harry’s expression turned disconsolate.
“This is so much harder than I thought it would be,” Harry said, looking at his feet. “I know he’s not telling me everything.”
Ginny reached over and placed her hand on his. “We should talk with my mum or dad. They may have some ideas.”
Harry looked sharply at her. You can’t trust adults. I shouldn’t have said anything to her. In the next moment, though, another thought came to him. It’s Mr and Mrs Weasley. They’ve always been honest with me.
“Are you sure they won’t just say ‘Trust Professor Dumbledore?’”
Ginny paused, obviously thinking about Harry’s question. “They do trust Professor Dumbledore. But I think they will listen to you.” She took a deep breath. “I think it’s worth talking with them.”
Harry’s emerald eyes bored into hers. “Good. That’s what we’ll do, then.”
They got up from the bed, and Ginny automatically switched hands, so her left was now holding Harry’s right hand. Neither child seemed to notice, as they sped down the stairs, skipping the squeaky third step as usual.
Mrs Weasley looked up as the two children entered the kitchen, smiling to herself when she saw they were unselfconsciously holding hands. Both sat down at the table opposite her.
“Why are you two still awake?” she asked curiously.
“Mum, we have a problem and need your help,” Ginny explained.
She smiled at the two children and their serious faces. “Well, tell me about it, and I’ll see what I can do.”
Ginny turned to Harry. After exchanging a brief glance, he looked at Mrs Weasley. “I’m sorry, but I overheard you talking with Professor McGonagall, when I came out of the loo.”
Mrs Weasley quickly scrolled through several emotions — surprise, mild irritation, but then settling on curiosity. “What did you hear us saying, Harry?”
He looked down at the table, then felt Ginny’s hand search for his and grasp it with a warming squeeze. “The professor said Dum, err, Professor Dumbledore had to decide how much to tell me.” He heard a harsh intake of air from Mrs Weasley, and he felt a cold anger begin to flow through him.
Ginny leaned over and whispered in his ear, “It’s okay, Harry. Just tell her.”
He looked briefly at the redhead, then took a deep breath, feeling the anger recede. “He was worried I’d explode or stop talking. That’s when I went back to my room.”
“I understand why that would upset you, Harry,” Mrs Weasley said softly. “You missed two important parts of our conversation, though. May I tell you about them?”
He nodded his head vigorously.
“At the beginning of our talk, Min, uh, Professor McGonagall told me that Professor Dumbledore wanted to do the very best thing he could for you and wanted to put a lot of time and thought into the best way to give you the information you requested. You’re concerned he wants to make all the decisions for you, aren’t you?”
Harry nodded. “He hasn’t even talked with me. He just makes decisions and tells me what to do. Live at the Dursleys, learn magic, go to Hogwarts, live with the Weasleys,” he looked up, “which is the only good decision yet.” Some heat had returned to Harry’s voice, so Ginny began to softly run her thumb over the back of his hand. In a much more normal tone, he said, “I just want to know what’s going on. Why I seem to be different than anybody else.”
“That’s a good point, Harry. Why don’t I contact the headmaster and Professor McGonagall and ask them to come here as soon as they can? Would you like me to do that?”
Both children smiled. “That would be great, Mrs Weasley.”
“Thanks, Mum.”
She smiled. “Now, it’s late, you two. Time for both of you to be in bed.” When the two children stood up, she said, “Come here. You both deserve big hugs for coming to me with your concerns. Alright, Harry?”
He answered by walking to the woman and leaning into her side, while Ginny did the same on her mum’s other side. Both children put an arm around her, while Mrs Weasley pulled them close. Ginny snaked her arm around Harry’s waist, and after a few moment’s hesitation, he placed his around her back.
Harry savoured this new feeling. Finally, they broke apart.
“Goodnight, Ginny, Harry,” Mrs Weasley said.
“Goodnight, Mum.”
“G’night, Mrs Weasley.”
As they disappeared up the stairs, Molly Weasley whispered to herself, “Sweet dreams, children.”
The two kids stopped when they reached the landing between the two bedrooms. Ginny smiled. “G’night, Harry.”
“Goodnight, Ginny.” But as she turned to enter her bedroom, Harry put a hand on her shoulder. She looked back curiously.
“Thanks, Ginny. That was a good suggestion.”
She beamed. “Of course it was, Mr Potter.” She giggled. “I’m glad we talked with Mum.”
“Me, too. See you in the morning,” he said.
“Not if I see you first.” By the time Ginny got the words out, she was laughing loudly.
Harry joined her laughter. “Good one, Gin.”
Both children retired to their bedrooms, smiles lighting their faces. Sleep came quickly, and the night passed without any interruptions.
When Harry straggled down to breakfast the next morning, all of the Weasleys were already seated at the large kitchen table. Mrs Weasley shot out of her chair when she saw the boy.
“Good morning, Harry dear,” Mrs Weasley greeted him with a smile. “Sit down while I get a plate together for you.”
“Th . . . thanks, Mrs Weasley.”
Harry looked around the table and smiled to himself. The boys, except for Percy, had briefly looked up when he entered the kitchen, nodded their greeting, and quickly returned to devouring their breakfast. Percy, who never seemed to be without a book, nodded at Harry and returned to the book he was reading. As Harry walked around the table to sit next to Ginny, he glimpsed the title of the book Percy was reading, Compendium of Crafty Charms and their Cunning Creators.
Mr Weasley smiled as Harry walked by him. “Good morning, lad.” The elder Weasley subtly placed his hand on the corner of the table, and Harry quickly reciprocated with a quick squeeze of the man’s hand.
“Good mor . . . ning,” he replied with a smile.
Ginny’s head was being held up by her hands or else the young girl’s face would be using her scrambled eggs as a pillow. She hadn’t moved as Harry entered the kitchen, greeted her family, and sat down next to her. Harry smiled mischievously.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he whispered.
“Hush, you,” the young girl mumbled, bumping him lightly with her shoulder. “I’m still asleep. Don’t wake me up.”
Ron had witnessed the exchange. “Ginny would stay in bed all day if Mum would let her.”
Without raising her head, Ginny tore off a small piece of toast and lobbed it in Ron’s direction. He caught it while still in the air and grinned. “Thanks, Gin, it’s okay to toss anything else you want.” He popped the piece of toast in his mouth.
She ignored his teasing, but her head shot up at her mum’s next statement. “Harry, I spoke with Professor McGonagall earlier this morning. She and Professor Dumbledore will visit us today around three o’clock.”
Four heads snapped up, as each of the Weasley boys first looked at their mum, then Harry.
Noting the boys’ curiosity, Mrs Weasley’s eyes narrowed. “I do not want you boys bugging Harry about the meeting today with his new professors. Is that understood?”
Percy nodded as if her request was unnecessary. The other three looked slightly rebellious but remained silent as they nodded their heads, then looked at Harry with expressions that said they would be talking to him later.
Harry looked at Mrs Weasley. “I would like Ginny to be there, please.”
Harry heard a small gasp as Ginny reacted to his request. He saw the immediate disapproving expression on Mrs Weasley’s face, then Mr Weasley’s hand moved over and grasped his wife’s hand. She looked at her husband and seconds later turned her gaze back to Harry.
“That would be fine, dear.”
A small, warm hand found his and squeezed. “Thanks, Harry,” was said so quietly only he could hear the words. He turned and smiled at the young girl who was now wide awake.
“Boys,” Mrs Weasley’s voice returned to its command mode. “I want the garden weeded this morning, with no lollygagging or throwing of dirt clods. Ginny, we have cleaning to do inside. Harry, you can do whatever you want.”
“I’ll help weed, Mrs Weasley . . .”
“What?” Fred looked shocked.
“Are you barmy?” George asked, his eyes wide in amazement.
“Who’d volunteer to weed?” Ron had a confused expression on his face.
Harry began to laugh and was quickly joined by Ginny, then Mr and Mrs Weasley. When they calmed down, Harry said, “Weeding the garden was one of my chores at the . . . uh . . . other place.” Everyone nodded. “I actually enjoyed it, because it gave me a chance to get outside and to make something look better.” He shrugged his shoulders.
George laughed. “I was right. He is barmy.”
“Another worker means it will go faster. Thanks, Harry,” Fred added.
“Time for everyone to get going,” Mrs Weasley said. “Once you’re dressed, see me to get a Sun charm before you go outside.
Before he got up, Ginny leaned close to him. “Good move, Potter.”
He looked at her and laughed at the mocking expression on her face. “Hey, Weasley, I really don’t mind helping.”
She grinned. “Ooookay. Whatever you say.”
They got up and walked up the stairs. When they reached their landing, Harry bumped shoulders with her. “Have fun working inside, while we’re out in the sunshine.” He entered his bedroom, while Ginny snorted and went into her room.
Weeding in the garden, lunch, then more reading — this time from the Defence Against the Dark Arts, Grade 2 book — made the time speed by unnoticed, until Mrs Weasley’s voice from downstairs broke Harry’s concentration.
“Harry, Ginny, the professors are here.”
The two children left their rooms at the same time. Ginny grabbed Harry’s arm to stop him from descending the stairs. She stared meaningfully into his eyes. “You can do this, Harry. You know what you want to hear. Make sure he tells you.”
Harry was startled as a feeling of warmth and calmness flowed through his body. He returned the girl’s caring gaze. “Thanks, Gin.” He squeezed her hand. “Let’s go.”
They sped down the stairs and entered the kitchen to find the two professors and Mr and Mrs Weasley sitting opposite them at the table, each with a cup of tea and a tin of biscuits sitting in the middle of the table. Dumbledore was munching on a biscuit as the two children joined Ginny’s parents and sat next to each other.
Harry looked up. “Hello, Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore.”
“Good day, Mr Potter,” greeted the Transfiguration professor.
“It is nice to see you again, Harry,” Dumbledore said, with his eyes twinkling. “We have a lot of questions to address, so unless anyone has any objections, let’s get started.”
The headmaster looked at each person seated across from him, his gaze remaining a few moments longer on Ginny. “Harry, since you are already aware of the reason for your early fame, I think it would be beneficial to discuss how it will manifest itself when you attend Hogwarts or visit Diagon Alley, for that matter.”
“Sir, I have been told that due to what happened when Voldemort tried to kill me, I will be the subject of much pointing, staring, and gossip, that people may want to talk with me and possibly even want to touch me. Is that what you were going to say?” Harry’s calm and clear voice reflected the expression on his face.
The two professors could not hide their surprise at the question and how it had been presented. Harry noticed that Mr and Mrs Weasley looked at him, both with a curious expression. Ginny moved her hand to his and lightly rubbed the back of his hand. A warm feeling moved up his arm.
“That was an excellent summary, Harry,” Dumbledore said, as he studied the boy more closely. “There is one area that should be emphasized. As you know, the school is divided into four Houses.” Harry nodded his head. “I do not wish to prejudice you against any house or any of their members; however, you should be aware of the history of Slytherin House.”
Harry nodded. The twins said most of the Voldemort’s Death Eaters came from that house and that I would have to watch the Slytherin students.
“Lord Voldemort was called Tom Riddle when he attended Hogwarts about fifty years ago.”
I didn’t know that.
“He was in Slytherin House, and his first followers were several of his classmates. Nearly all the members of his group . . .”
“The Death Eaters, sir?”
Dumbledore cocked his head to the side but answered quickly. “That’s right, Harry. As I was saying, nearly all the members came from Slytherin. As a result of you vanquishing Tom, some of those Death Eaters were killed or sentenced to Azkaban. Others shrunk back into wizarding society. The children of these former followers of Tom’s may think of you in terms of causing large problems for their families and as a result, treat you in less than a friendly manner. While I hope nothing will happen — and will do everything in my means to prevent it — it would serve you well to be discrete in your dealings with members of that house and to keep a low profile.”
Harry used the heel of his free hand to wipe off the moisture that had just formed on his forehead. He could see the worried look on Ginny’s face out of the corner of his eye, so he briefly tightened his grip on her hand. Both children looked at Mr Weasley when he asked the next question.
“Albus, what do you expect the Slytherins to do, and what precautions are you taking to ensure Harry is not put in any danger?”
“While we don’t know exactly what their actions may be, they typically fall into two categories — verbal and minor hexes.” Harry noticed that Mrs Weasley’s eyes had widened, but Dumbledore continued talking. “Harry, the best defence against verbal slurs is to ignore them. Their goal is to goad you into doing something that would get you in trouble, such as cursing them or starting a fight of some sort. Actions of a more physical nature would include sabotaging your classroom experiments in Potions or Herbology, bumping or tripping you, or landing a minor curse. Again, these are all done to provoke a response from you and to get you into trouble. By being aware of your surroundings and never going through the castle alone, you should not have problems with these approaches.”
“Albus Dumbledore, are you telling us Harry is going to be the target of unprovoked attacks and your advice is to ignore them and to be aware they could happen?” Molly Weasley exploded. “What kind of advice is that? Surely, you can do a better job than to tell your students to be careful!”
Before Dumbledore could respond, Harry quietly answered her. “Don’t worry, Mrs Weasley. I was a target of Dudley and his gang all through school. I’m used to being treated this way and ‘being aware of my surroundings’ as the professor said. I’m not quite sure how to stop someone cursing me, but I would imagine that skill is taught at some point.”
The four adults stared at Harry after the matter-of-fact description of how his life had been and his casual acceptance that he would again be a target based solely on his being Harry Potter. Seconds later, all eyes turned in question to Albus Dumbledore.
He stared at his tea cup for a few seconds, then looked at Mrs Weasley. “You are undoubtedly correct, Molly. I do need to be more proactive. Harry, we can do several things to make your entry into Hogwarts easier and less threatening. The first and easiest will be to teach you how to create a shield that will block most minor curses. Minerva, may I depend on you to teach Mr Potter the Protego spell?”
“Certainly, Headmaster. Mr Potter, I’ll contact you to arrange your training.”
“Thank you, Professor.”
All eyes returned to the headmaster. “The second precaution we can take is to return something that belonged to your father that he left with me. I will give it to Professor McGonagall, so she can bring it with her for your first training lesson.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed. He’s not even saying what it is or how it will help me. Can’t he say anything directly?
Dumbledore smiled, his eyes again twinkling. “I do think those two precautions will eliminate the vast majority of any confrontations you may have, Harry. Now, if you’re up to it, I would like to discuss that dream you had, especially the ending and what it could be telling us.”
Before Dumbledore could say another word, Professor McGonagall spoke up. “Perhaps we should take a short break to stretch our legs, get some tea, and relax a bit.”
“Good suggestion, Minerva,” Mr Weasley said, as he started to rise from the table. His wife, daughter, and unofficial son quickly followed his lead.
“We’ll be in the garden,” Ginny called out over her shoulder as she grabbed Harry’s hand and led him out the back door.
As soon as the door shut and they were a ways from the back of the house, Ginny whispered, “I can see why you exploded. He doesn’t talk; he lectures. Does he really think other students will try to curse you?”
Harry shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to worry about that kind of stuff anymore.” He glanced at the petite redhead. “Ginny, do you mind if I tell you something?”
She looked at him enquiringly. “Of course not. What did you want to tell me?”
Harry stared at his shoes, and his cheeks took on more colour. “I, uh, ithelpshavingyouhere.”
Ginny laughed at the incomprehensible statement. “Could you say that again, a little slower this time?”
Harry squeezed his eyes closed. “It helps having you here.” He looked at her, and his face became several shades darker.
Ginny immediately tried to match his blush, while at the same time she found her shoes the most interesting sight available. “Thanks, Harry,” she mumbled a bit shyly. “I’m glad to help.”
Ginny quickly changed the subject. Ten minutes later, someone called from the back door.
“Kids, time to come inside.”
Ginny and Harry both jumped, startled by her mum’s request. When they looked up, they saw a questioning expression on the woman’s face, which quickly turned to a warm smile.
“We’re starting up again.”
After everyone had returned to the table, Harry quickly summarized the dream, providing the most detail from the time Voldemort entered his bedroom.
The Weasleys and the professors sat silently for several moments, lost in their thoughts of what Harry had seen in the dream and the painful fact that he had seen it numerous times over the past decade.
Dumbledore finally spoke. “Is that everything you can remember from when Voldemort was in your room?”
Harry felt a flare of anger but just nodded his head. Ginny resumed running her thumb over the back of Harry’s hand, when she sensed his irritation at the headmaster’s question. He looked over and gave her a brief smile.
“Good,” the headmaster replied. “Thank you for retelling that difficult dream. Harry, I have no doubt your mother’s sacrifice provided the protection that caused the Killing Curse to rebound from you and hit Tom. What she did was a strong and selfless act of love, which can invoke a very powerful magic, one that Tom has no knowledge of. Unfortunately, we have no idea why the rebounded curse turned Tom to mist. We also don’t know if the curse actually killed him.”
“How could that be, Albus?” Mrs Weasley whispered. Her complexion had become several shades paler during the retelling of the dream and the subsequent discussion.
“Molly, Tom had delved deeply into the Dark Arts. We are not sure exactly what he had done in his quest for immortality. When the Killing Curse rebounded, it may have killed him, and he changed to mist as a result of one or more of the experiments he had done on himself. I have several theories, but each is more conjectural than its predecessor. Rest assured I will continue to seek an explanation.”
The headmaster turned his eyes to the young boy in front of him. “Harry, I’m sure you have wondered why you are receiving special attention.” The boy looked surprised but quickly nodded his head. “Simply, I had wanted — perhaps naively — for you to have a normal childhood, outside the wizarding world with the constant attention that would have brought you. In hindsight, it is easy to see that I made assumptions about your relatives that proved to be false. For that, I am eternally remorseful for the treatment you received. I hope at some point you will forgive me.”
Harry looked directly at the headmaster and nodded his head, not trusting his voice. He changed the subject! He moved from Voldemort to my relatives without explaining anything about that night.
Looking like everyone’s image of a magical grandfather, Dumbledore asked, “Does that answer your questions, Harry?”
Harry looked at the elderly wizard. Dumbledore’s upset. His voice has an edge to it. He isn’t answering my questions. I know he’s holding stuff back. This is really frustrating. I can talk with Ginny later and see if we can figure out what he’s doing.
“Yes, it does, sir. Thank you.” He tried to speak in a calm voice but wasn’t sure he had succeeded.
“Excellent.” The headmaster’s irritated expression quickly changed to that of a benevolent grandfather. “I have a request of you, my boy. I realize this has been a strain, but would you show me how you do your wandless magic?”
Harry felt a wave of heat blast through him. Sweat dripped down his back, causing his shirt to stick to him, and moisture beaded on his forehead. My hands are all clammy. Now Ginny will know something’s wrong. I hate it when they want me to perform like I’m some kind of freak. He tried to wipe his hand on his jeans without calling attention to what he was doing, but Ginny subtly moved the handkerchief that was on her lap to his hand.
Harry gratefully took it. While wiping off the moisture, he asked the headmaster, “What do you want me to do?”
Dumbledore’s eyes fell on the biscuit tin that was sitting in front of him. “Could you move this to Mr Weasley?”
Harry nodded, pointed at the tin, pictured it rising, and moved his hand to guide it so it landed gently in front of Mr Weasley. Mr and Mrs Weasley, Ginny, and Minerva McGonagall all smiled, while the headmaster looked at Harry as if he were studying an unusual new species.
“Well done, Harry,” the headmaster said, his expression changing to a smile. “Do you know over what distance you can control an object?”
Harry shook his head.
Dumbledore looked around the kitchen, before focusing on a glass sitting on the counter about three metres from where Harry was sitting. “Would you move that glass over to me?”
Harry again focused on the object and moved it so the glass now sat in front of the headmaster.
“Very impressive. Would you explain what you are thinking and doing when you are moving an object?”
Harry felt his eyes narrowing and the heat building up again, but he took a deep breath and put on what he thought of as his “Dursley mask.” I don’t think he likes that I can do this stuff. He’s upset, even though he’s not showing it. As long as I don’t show how angry I am, it should be okay.
“I just look at what I want to move and picture what I want to happen.” Harry ended his explanation with a shrug.
Dumbledore had an incredulous expression on his face. Professor McGonagall noticed this and turned to the small boy. “Harry, please excuse our surprise at your answer. What you are able to do is incredible.” She hesitated for a moment. “That you are able to do these things without any training makes them even more wonderful.” Her voice became softer. “This is a very rare and special ability, Harry. You should be very proud that you can do this. It is nothing to be ashamed of.”
He smiled at the professor. She understands how I was feeling. “Thank you, Professor.”
She smiled back at the boy. “I think we have seen enough examples of your wandless and wordless abilities.”
Dumbledore looked sharply at McGonagall, but his expression quickly changed as he addressed Harry. “My boy, these are indeed wonderful abilities, so much so that I want to make two suggestions. The first ties in with the shield training Professor McGonagall will start soon with you. I think that training should be expanded to learn more spells and how to do them wandlessly, as well as with a wand. This training will extend into the school year. How does that sound?”
Harry couldn’t hold back his smile. “That sounds great.”
The headmaster smiled. “The second proposal is that the use of your special abilities should be restricted to these training sessions. You will be the subject of attention and gossip solely because you are the Boy Who Lived. If the knowledge of these abilities became known, your notoriety would become even more uncomfortable.”
Dumbledore lowered his gaze to the tea cup in front of him and missed the annoyed expressions from everyone else at the table.
Finishing his tea, Albus Dumbledore smiled and said, “I’m very glad we could meet today and answer all of your questions. I am very much looking forward to you attending Hogwarts. My door will always be open to you, my boy.” He turned to McGonagall. “I trust that you will set up the training sessions with Mr Potter. Please keep me informed of his progress.”
With that, he rose from the table. “Thank you so much, Arthur and Molly, for what you are doing for Harry. I’m sure he appreciates being here. Miss Weasley, always a pleasure to see you.”
As the headmaster walked to the fireplace, Minerva McGonagall quickly walked around the table and kneeled between Ginny and Harry. “I am very pleased with how you responded today, Harry. I know Ginny was a great help.” Her smile was reflected by those of the two children. “I will contact you soon to set up your training.”
Three hands moved simultaneously and met in the space between the witch and the two children. Each hand strongly gripped the other two, sharing their warmth.
“I’m very proud of both of you,” she said quietly.
A moment later, the professor’s usual demeanour had returned, as she walked to the fireplace. With two flares of the green fire, the professors left for Hogwarts.
As soon as the two professors departed, Ginny looked directly into Harry’s eyes. “We need to talk. Let’s go outside, so we won’t be interrupted.” Grabbing his hand, she led the smiling boy out the back door, stopping only to inform her mother that they would be at the pond.
They walked through the garden, with its profusion of roses perfuming the summer air, the vegetables ripening on their vines, and the herbs with their distinctive scents. Harry didn’t notice any of this, or that his hand was still being held by the young witch. Memories of the meeting and Dumbledore’s decisions looped through his mind in an endless repetition.
The hell on earth that living with the Dursleys represented . . . not knowing who he was or his heritage . . . the lies about his parents . . . no friends, huge, hand-me-down clothes from his whale of a cousin . . . the mistreatment at the hands of his only remaining relatives . . . finding out Dumbledore had neglected him for a decade . . . partially telling him who and what he was . . . telling him what his life would now be like . . . always holding back information, never completely answering his questions . . . Stunning him when he got upset and lost control of his magic . . . not answering his questions again and acting like he was everyone’s favourite relative . . . restricting him from using wandless magic . . .
They had reached the wide path that bordered the paddock area when Harry became aware that Ginny was looking at him with concern.
“Your face is flushed.” She held up their still clasped hands. “Your hand is wet.”
Harry’s shoulders slumped. “Sorry, Ginny.”
The small girl stopped abruptly. Harry stopped a second later, since Ginny had tightened her grip on his hand.
“Harry Potter, I did not say that so you would apologize.”
Her sharp tone caused Harry’s eyes to widen, and he bit back his instinctive reply that he was sorry. When he looked at the girl, he saw several expressions fighting for dominance — anger, frustration, but also sorrow.
“Harry,” she whispered, “it’s okay to be angry. Don’t hold it in.” Ginny looked around, then smiled and picked something up from the ground. “How far can you throw this?” She handed him a good-sized rock.
Harry released her hand and took the rock. He swung his right arm in a windmill fashion several times to loosen it. Then, he reached back and launched the rock in a high arc. When the rock was at its peak, perhaps ten metres high and twenty metres from them, Harry pushed his right hand at it. The rock shot off on a second trajectory, rising to a height of at least twenty metres and becoming smaller and smaller, until the two children saw an explosion of dirt from much further down the path.
Harry grinned at Ginny. “That was fun.”
She handed him another rock, grinning back at him when he enthusiastically grabbed it from her hand.
“I’m going to name this rock.” Ginny looked at him in confusion. “It looks like a Dumbledore type of rock to me.”
Harry levitated the rock so it hung in the air about ten metres in front of them and about twenty-five metres up. Harry slashed his arm down, like he had with the Potions book. Instead of a soft whump the book made when it collided with the mattress, the rock hit the dirt path with an explosive thud, sending dirt flying in all directions and leaving an irregular hole in the path.
Harry picked up the offending rock from the crater, and a wicked smile creased his face. Ginny watched in fascination. The boy slung the rock like he was skipping a stone across the smooth surface of a pond. As it hit the dirt road, he raised the rock and pushed so it continued its forward motion. After two more dirt-spraying skips, Harry let it fall to the earth under its own power.
They were approaching the cut-off path to the pond, so Harry Summoned the rock back to him, letting it land safely a metre or two in front of them. A large rock, almost boulder size, sat on the edge of the wide path on the left side. Harry stared at it for several seconds then returned his gaze to the rock, which sat on the ground about three metres from the boulder.
With no preamble at all, Harry levitated the smaller rock and whipped his arm in the direction of the flat surface of the boulder. The smaller rock exploded on impact, sending shards in a one-hundred and eighty degree radius.
“Oh!” Ginny squeaked. “Was the rock still Professor Dumbledore?”
Harry smiled maliciously. “Not any more.”
Then, his demeanour changed abruptly. “Thanks, Gin.” He turned and looked at the girl. “You knew I was mad at Dumbledore. That helped a lot. Now we can talk and I can get it out without hurting anyone or your house.”
She grinned at him. “That was the general idea, Potter. Now talk.” They turned onto the narrow path that led to the pond.
He grinned back at her. “Yes, ma’am.” A serious expression spread over Harry’s face. He took a deep breath and the words came tumbling out. “There are a couple of things that bothered me. The main one is that I don’t think Dumbledore told us everything.”
Ginny looked at him curiously. “What did he leave out?”
“When I met with him at Hogwarts, Dumbledore told me he thought Voldemort could still be alive.”
Ginny gasped. “This time he thought V . . . Vol . . . Voldemort was dead. Why would Professor Dumbledore change his mind?”
Harry stared at the dirt path in front of them. “I don’t think he wanted me to ask questions about Voldemort and why he tried to kill me.”
“Do you have any idea why the headmaster would do that?”
The boy shook his head. “No, not really.” He turned and looked at the redheaded girl. “What did you think of him not wanting me to use wandless magic in school?”
“I didn’t understand that, either. You’re already famous, so this ability is just one more reason. Students are going to watch you anyway,” she bumped his shoulder with hers, “because you’re the Boy Who Lived.”
When Harry made a face, she turned red in embarrassment. “Oh, Harry. I’m sorry.” Ginny looked hesitantly at Harry. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but when Dad read your story to me when I was younger, I thought of it as an adventure — the brave baby defeating the evil Dark Lord. Now that I know you it just seems so horrible.”
“It’s okay, Gin. I don’t remember it happening, except for the dreams. If I didn’t have them, I’d be clueless about what happened. I still don’t know why I’m famous for something I don’t remember. I was a baby. I really didn’t do anything. It was my mum’s magic according to Dumbledore.”
“Well, you are famous, so get used to it, Potter.” She grinned at her friend.
When they reached the top of the rise, both kids stopped and released contented sighs. “It feels like coming home, doesn’t it?” Ginny asked.
Harry looked at her. “It feels like coming home to your house, not that other one.”
Ginny smiled. “This is your house now, Harry.”
He smiled back at her, and they walked down to the shore, quickly removed their socks and shoes, rolled up their jeans and waded into the water. Harry’s eyes swept the landscape, reacquainting himself with their haven.
Ginny spoke hesitantly. “We were talking about wandless magic. Do you think . . .”
“. . . I could teach you again?” Harry smiled back at her. “Sure.”
He turned towards the shore and found several large leaves lying on the sand. Levitating one, Harry moved it so it floated on the water about two metres from them. Then, he did the same thing with a second leaf.
“Remember last time, Ginny? Try to feel the magic inside you and tell it what to do.” He put his hand on his stomach. “I feel it here. Do you feel anything?”
Ginny’s face showed how much she was straining to find her magical centre. “Nothing,” she said in frustration. “I don’t feel anything inside.”
“Don’t worry about it. But this time, just relax. You don’t have to force it out. Try to picture it in your mind, instead of pushing with your muscles. Okay? Picture this warm, sparkling mass in your centre. Can you see it?”
Ginny had closed her eyes. “It’s mostly golden yellow with red sparks around the edges.”
“That’s great, Ginny. Imagine some of the golden yellow part flowing through your body to your right arm. We know it’s there, because you’ve done magic with a wand before. Just let it flow.”
Ginny’s eyes had remained closed, but when Harry saw sweat beading on her forehead, he said, “Let’s try another way.”
Disappointment was evident on Ginny’s face when she opened her eyes. “I could feel it inside me.”
“That’s great, Ginny. Don’t be disappointed. You have it much harder than I did. I didn’t know anything. You’ve always been taught to use a wand and all the restrictions around it. You’re doing great just to feel it inside.” He awkwardly patted her on the shoulder.
Ginny asked, “What other way did you want to show me?”
Harry scrunched up his face. “Okay. This may sound weird, but I was thinking it might help if you held my hand when I cast a spell wandlessly.” He hesitantly looked at Ginny.
“That’s a great idea.” She smiled. “Maybe I can feel what you’re doing.”
Harry laughed in relief. “Good. I thought you’d think I was barmy or something.”
“Well, you are, but it’s still a good idea.”
Both kids started laughing, and their movements caused the water to ripple and soak the bottom part of their rolled up jeans.
Finally they calmed down and Harry said, “I’m just going to levitate the leaf in front of me. Put your right hand on mine, and your left hand on my shoulder. Let me know if you feel anything. Keep your hands on when I raise my arm to levitate the leaf. Okay?”
“Are you sure this isn’t a way to get me to touch you, Potter?” Ginny began to blush slightly.
Harry quickly matched her blush and raised it one level. He raised his nose up. “The thought never crossed my mind, Miss Weasley.”
They laughed again, before becoming serious. Ginny placed her hands where Harry had suggested, and he said, “I’m going to start now.”
Harry pictured the magic moving through him and causing the leaf to rise above the water. Seconds later, he raised his arm and the leaf followed effortlessly. When it was about three metres above the water, Harry stopped and held it there. “Did you feel anything?” he whispered.
Ginny whispered back, “I thought I felt . . . a kind of movement in your shoulder and hand, like something moved through it. It was almost like a vibration but moving. It’s hard to explain.”
“That’s excellent. That’s how it feels. Okay. Now, I’m going to push the leaf hard. Maybe you’ll feel it more since I’ll be using more power. Hang on.”
Harry had been pointing at the leaf, with his arm close to his body. “Ginny, I’m going to push my arm out quickly, so you might want take a couple of steps forward and hang on tight. I’ll move my arm on three.”
“One.”
“Two.”
“Three,” both kids yelled. Ginny hung on, as Harry flung his arm straight out. The leaf rocketed across the pond, eventually landing about two-thirds of the way across.
“I felt it,” Ginny yelled in excitement. “It felt like a surge, much stronger than before. I could feel it move through my hands. Thanks, Harry.” She squeezed his arm in both places where her hands still remained. “My turn.”
She closed her eyes and pictured her magic flowing from her centre and out through her hand. Opening her eyes, she pointed at the leaf and raised her arm.
Nothing.
“Ahhh.” Ginny threw her hand down to her side.
“Don’t worry about it, Gin. I have another idea.” He smiled. “This time I’ll hold your hand. We’ll levitate the leaf together. Maybe you’ll be able to feel it again through my hand.”
Harry moved over to Ginny’s right side and held her hand. “Okay. Concentrate on the leaf being moved up by your hand. On three again.”
When the count hit three, Harry focused on sending his magic through Ginny’s hand, while he focused on the image of the leaf rising in the air.
He heard a sharp intake of air, as the leaf slowly began to rise from the water. Ginny’s eyes became increasingly wider the higher the leaf went in the air. Finally, they stopped when the leaf was four or five metres above them.
Harry thought Ginny’s smile was the widest he’d ever seen.
“Let’s push it out, on three.”
The first two numbers were said quietly. Both shouted ‘three,’ and the leaf shot away from them, finally landing more than half way across the pond.
Ginny started jumping up and down, soaking them, though neither noticed. She turned and threw her arms around Harry, whispering “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Harry rested his hands on her shoulders, feeling the corners of his mouth stretching because his smile was so wide.
When they let go of each other, both ducked their heads. Harry raised his when Ginny began to talk. “I know it was your magic, but I could feel it through my hand. Did you do that?”
“I hope you don’t mind,” Harry mumbled. “I wanted you to feel it going through you.”
Ginny smiled broadly. “That was a great idea. Thanks, Harry. Now I know how it works.” She looked at Harry as they walked to the shore and sat down. “This feels so good I’m not even going to try again. I’m so excited it’s like my arm is vibrating.”
Harry beamed back at her. “We can go through the same stuff next time, but you can try it yourself then, if you want.”
“Great! Maybe later in the week . . . or tomorrow,” she said with a grin. “We probably should return, unless you have more Dumbledore rocks to abuse.”
He grinned at her. “Nah, I got it out of my system. Let’s go.” They instinctively grasped the other’s hand.
They walked silently up the rise leading from the pond, when Harry wiggled his hand from Ginny’s grasp. With a quick tap on her shoulder and a shouted, “You’re it,” he sprinted away, starting a game of tag.
“I’ll get you, Potter,” yelled the red-haired sprite to the rapidly disappearing back of Harry Potter. She took off at a sprint.
When she reached the top of the rise, Ginny was sure she would see the backside of her friend. She was surprised when he was no where to be found. Having learned the tricks boys play from six older brothers, Ginny slowed down and began to look around carefully, thinking that Harry could be hiding in ambush. In another minute, she had almost reached the junction where the cut-off to the pond met the lane back to the house, and she still had seen no sign of Harry.
As she walked along the much narrower dirt path through the uncultivated field that was filled with tall grasses and scrub trees, Ginny continued to swivel her head, looking for the Boy Who Was Hiding. Just past the largest of the gnarled trees, she stopped to look around more closely.
Whump!
The next thing Ginny knew something had knocked her to the ground, and she was pinned under a heavy weight in a tangle of arms, legs, and torsos. When she opened her eyes, she discovered the heavy weight was none other than Harry Potter. When both kids realized he was lying on top of his newest female friend, they instantly turned a spectacular scarlet.
Harry quickly rolled off the small girl and mumbled an apology. “Sorry, Gin. I was only trying to tag you again, but you stopped so suddenly I kinda ran over you.” He turned to look at her. “Are you okay?”
Too many potential responses flooded the young girl’s mind to say anything witty or sarcastic like she had intended. Ginny finally settled for, “Yeah, I’m okay, just startled. I couldn’t believe you’d gotten that far ahead of me.”
“Well, as long as I didn’t hurt you.”
“With six older brothers, it would take a lot more than that,” Ginny said with a grin.
“Yeah, I guess it would.”
The two children lay comfortably on their backs in the tall grass by the edge of the dirt path. The startling blue sky was occasionally interrupted by thin clouds scuttling by, blown by a wind that did not reach down to ground level.
After several minutes of watching nothing but the changes in the sky, Harry said, “Time to get moving again?”
“Yup. Help me up, Potter. After all, you put me down here.”
He grinned and held out a hand, once he had gotten up. Ginny held it tightly, and he easily pulled her up.
“Thank you, kind sir,” she said, with a smile, while keeping hold of the hand that had helped her get up.
Soon they were walking past the grassy paddock area, with the orchard on the left and the huge privacy-insuring trees on the right and along the far edge of the property.
“I really like Professor McGonagall.” Ginny’s soft words brought Harry’s attention back to the girl walking next to him. “She understands, doesn’t she?”
Harry smiled. “Like when she said we should have a break when she knew I was upset. Dumbledore didn’t have a clue how mad he was making me.”
Ginny grinned. “I could feel you getting hot. At least nothing vibrated or exploded.”
“Thanks a lot, Weasley. How did you feel when she came up at the end of the meeting and said she was very proud of us?”
“Really good. She makes you want to do the right things. Now I know why all my brothers like her so much.”
“Oh,” Harry said, “that reminds me. Professor McGonagall told me earlier that she would have to be her usual self when we get to school and there are other students around.” He laughed. “She doesn’t want them to find out how nice she really is.”
Ginny looked surprised. “She said that?”
Harry started laughing. “No. That’s just what I thought. She wants all the students to think she’s mean and tough. We know better though.”
Ginny smiled. “You’ll have fun training with her.”
Harry stopped in mid-stride and looked at his friend. “Do you want me to ask if you can join in my training?”
“You’d do that?” Ginny’s eyes had widened considerably.
“Sure. It would give you a head start for when you go to Hogwarts,” his voice became much softer, “and it would be fun having you at the lessons.”
Both kids blushed and focused on the ground in front of them.
“Thanks, Harry,” Ginny said.
When they looked up, Harry and Ginny were surprised they were already back in the garden area. Ginny’s stomach growled.
“Do you think it’s close to dinner time?” Harry asked, trying not to smile at Ginny’s stomach talking to them.
Ginny snorted. “It sure feels like it. Let’s go in and see.”
As they entered the house through the back door chatting away, several things happened simultaneously. Ginny grabbed Harry by the shoulders and turned him, so his back was to the kitchen.
Before she had literally spun him around, Harry noticed that Mr and Mrs Weasley were leaning over the table looking at — well, he wasn’t quite sure, because Ginny had moved him so quickly. At the same time, Harry heard Mrs Weasley whisper the words to a spell and thought the word bedroom was in it.
Regardless, when Ginny let him go a few moments later, Harry noticed the table was empty, Mrs Weasley had grabbed a dish rag and was wiping down the table top, and Mr Weasley was reading the Dailey Prophet. Harry looked at Ginny, silently asking what was going on. She just shrugged and smiled.
“Hi, kids, how was the pond?” Mrs Weasley asked, as if nothing had occurred prior to asking the question.
While Ginny was answering her mum’s question in her non-stop breathless manner, Harry walked over to where Mr Weasley was sitting at the head of the table. Mr Weasley put the paper down and gestured for the boy to sit down.
In his usual calm, quiet voice he said, “Harry, I would imagine you saw some things just now that you may be wondering about.”
Harry goggled at the man. How did he know I was wondering what just happened?
The man smiled. “When you become a parent, you develop a sixth sense. With seven children and now you being part of our family, you can imagine that sixth sense is pretty well developed . . .”
Harry smiled. “Especially with the twins?”
Mr Weasley laughed. “You took the words right out of my mind. Isn’t that the Muggle saying?”
“Pretty close, Mr Weasley. It’s mouth instead of mind.”
He chuckled. “I’ll have to remember that. Anyhow, I would imagine your first reaction would be ‘what are they hiding from me?’ and I wouldn’t blame you for thinking that.”
Harry looked sheepishly at the man. That’s exactly what I was wondering.
“Don’t worry about feeling that way, lad. Just know we wouldn’t hide anything from you, like certain people we know. You’ll find out quickly enough, and we think you will be very pleased.” He grinned at the boy. “Have I confused you?”
Harry grinned at the man. “I think you’re asking me to trust you.” The boy quickly became embarrassed by the stinging feeling in his eyes. “I do.”
Two hands reached out towards each other and met in the space midway between the boy and the man. The simple touch contained a world of emotions.
Like finding the missing piece of a puzzle after a long search, Harry finally realized, He is the first male I’ve ever trusted.
While Mr Weasley silently promised, Harry, you are part of our family. I’ll do everything I can to ensure you are treated right.
“Kids, dinner is almost ready. Set the table for me, please.” Harry turned to see Mrs Weasley bustling over the stove, as Ginny walked towards the cabinet that held the dishes and silverware.
Before getting up to help, Harry squeezed the hand that was holding his and smiled when he felt Mr Weasley squeezing his hand at the same time.
“Thanks, Mr Weasley.”
“Anytime, son.”
Harry joined Ginny and pulled eight plates from the shelf and eight napkins from the drawer below. In the few minutes it took the kids to set the table, Mrs Weasley finished the dinner preparations and called the four boys down to eat. The now common sound of three clattering pairs of feet and one sedate pair quickly followed the summons.
As soon as everyone had helped themselves to the baked chicken, rice pilaf, green beans, and salad, the twins turned as a single entity and asked Harry, “What did you talk about with the headmaster and Professor McGonagall?”
“Boys!” Mrs Weasley hissed. “What kind of question is that? If we had wanted you to be part of the meeting, you would have been invited.”
Harry hesitated, then said softly to Mrs Weasley, “I don’t mind telling them, if it’s okay with you.”
Mrs Weasley looked at the boy in surprise, then smiled. “Of course, Harry, if you want to tell them, it is fine with me.” She finished her comment with a look of warning to the twins, but to Harry’s amazement, they seemed unperturbed by it.
Harry gave the twins — and Ron and Percy, who also were listening in — a summary of what had transpired. Towards the end, he mentioned Dumbledore’s preference that he not reveal his wandless abilities.
“That’s not fair,” George exclaimed.
“Hardly anyone can do that,” Fred added.
“Well, Professor McGonagall is going come here and help me work on the wandless magic. The training will carry over into school also.” He paused for a second, then ploughed on. “They think I should learn to do a shield spell in case someone tries to hex me.”
Percy reacted first. “The Protego spell?”
“Yeah, that’s it.” Harry nodded his head, while Percy’s eyes widened.
Fred jumped in next. “Like we said before, we’ll try to help you whenever we can. If our classes are anywhere close to yours . . .”
“. . . we’ll walk with you,” George finished. “If someone does get to you when we’re not there, just give us their names, and we’ll make sure it never happens again.”
Harry expected Mrs Weasley to explode. When she was silent, Harry glanced over and had to bite down a smile. She was looking at the twins and nodding her head in approval.
“I’ll be in all your classes,” Ron said, “so one of us will always be with you.”
“Thanks, guys,” Harry said, and he turned and nodded his head to the Weasley parents. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to ask Professor McGonagall to include Ron and Ginny in my non-wandless training. I’m sure it will be too simple for Percy and the twins, or I’d include them, too. My thought was that Ron’s going to be with me all the time, so if anything happens, he’ll be there and needs to know what to do. Ginny will be with us next year, so why not get her trained when we have this chance? It would help to have them train with me.”
Mr and Mrs Weasley immediately looked at each other. After several moments, Mr Weasley smiled. “Harry, it says a lot of good things about you that you want to include Ron and Ginny in your training. If Professor McGonagall says it is alright with her, it is fine with us. As much as we hate the idea, your fame will attract a certain amount of unwanted attention, it appears.”
There was an explosion of noise from the younger Weasleys.
“Thanks, Harry!” Ron’s smile filled his face.
The twins both gave him two thumbs up.
Percy looked at the newest addition to the family and nodded his head in approval.
Best of all, Ginny leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Thanks, Harry. That means a lot to me.” She enclosed his hand in hers and gave it a warm squeeze.
“Percy, I have a favour to ask. I’ve finished the twins’ second year books. Could I borrow your third year books for Charms, Defence, Transfiguration, and Potions?” Before Percy could reply, the twins exploded.
“You finished all those books?” George asked.
“It’s summer, Harry!” Fred shook his head.
They looked incredulously at Harry. “He’s doing it because he wants to?”
Percy was finally able to speak. “Of course, Harry. It’s gratifying to see that someone else takes their education seriously.”
Mrs Weasley immediately began to chide the twins about their study habits when the fire flared, and moments later, Minerva McGonagall’s head appeared in the flames.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she said, “but I need to speak to Mr Potter for just a moment.”
Harry walked around the table and knelt in front of the hearth. “Hello, Professor.”
The professor nodded her head. “I trust the rest of your day went well.”
Harry smiled. “Yes, it did. Ginny and I went outside, and I used some wandless magic on some rocks. It helped a lot.”
McGonagall’s lips briefly twitched and her eyes lit up. “I’m glad to hear that, Mr Potter.” Assuming her teacher’s face, she continued. “If it meets your schedule, I would like to come by tomorrow morning at nine o’clock sharp to work with you on your wandless magic and introduce you to some defensive spells.”
Harry looked at Mr and Mrs Weasley. When both nodded their heads, he turned back to his professor. “That’s great! May I ask a favour?”
She tilted her head. “And what would that be?”
Harry swallowed hard. “Since Ron is going to be with me all the time, and Ginny, too, next year, I thought it would be good for them to be part of the defensive training. It’s okay with Mr and Mrs Weasley.” ‘Please,’ he mouthed.
“As long as their parents have approved it, I think it will be beneficial to include Mr and Miss Weasley for the defensive training.” The professor’s voice lowered. “Was that your idea?” Harry nodded. “Good. I’ll see you at nine for the wandless training, then defence with the other two at 9:30.” Returning to her normal voice, she said, “Good night. I will see you tomorrow.”
After losing to Ron in chess three more times, even with Ginny helping him during the last two matches, Harry and the others headed up to bed. Saying their goodnights at the first floor landing, Ron, Percy, and the twins continued up the stairs.
Ginny smiled. “Are you feeling pretty good?” she asked casually.
He smiled back. “Yeah. Thanks to you. I’d have been horrible if I kept my feelings about Dumbledore inside.”
“You had to before.” He nodded his head. “You don’t have to here.”
Harry grinned. “There are a few differences between them and your family. Good people.”
Ginny flipped her hair. “Red hair.”
“Food.”
“Freckles.”
“Fewer chores.”
“People who care for you,” she whispered and reached out her hand.
“People I care about.” He took her hand and squeezed. “Goodnight, Ginny.”
“Good night, Harry.”
With one more squeeze of the other’s hand, the children went into their bedrooms.
Harry noticed four books sitting on his bed. He smiled as he picked them up, pleased that Percy had so willingly let him borrow the third year books. After three times through each of the first and second year books, Harry was pretty sure he understood all of the information they contained.
Sleep was slow in coming, as he thought about the immense changes in his life in just the past two weeks. Everything has changed. But for the first time, it seems okay. A lot of people want to help me, Ginny, McGonagall, Mr and Mrs Weasley, all of the Weasleys. I wonder what it would have been like to grow up here. He sighed. At least I’m here now.
Sleep followed moments later.
Chapter 18: Spells
Author's Notes: This is the next to last chapter at The Burrow. I had intended it to be the last, but the chapter got too big. So, you will get two for the price of one. Also, the next chapter should be posted much sooner than usual.
Using Melindaleo and Arnel’s Tear Meter, out of five tissues, I’m going to give this chapter a two rating. There are two scenes – you don’t expect me to say which they are, do you? – that may bring “good” tears. Let me know, please.
For those of you who have followed the story for a while, you know that I always thank cwarbeck in this space for her much appreciated beta work. Her efforts on my behalf make this story better than it would be otherwise. Thanks, cel!
“Mr Potter, magic done with a wand is highly disciplined. There are specific movements and words that are used for each spell.” Minerva McGonagall stood in the Weasleys’ garden instructing Harry Potter, as Ron and Ginny Weasley watched from a wrought iron bench that sat at the edge of the garden.
“We are not interested in that, so there will be no wand movements or words utilized in our training sessions. Instead, I want to explore how much you can do wandlessly and wordlessly, learn how much control you have, refine your skills where needed, and expand them as appropriate.
“It is important for you to understand that very few adult wizards or witches can do any wandless magic, and the majority of what they can do are the easiest spells, such as Lumos and Wingardium Leviosa.
“Are you ready to start?”
“Yes, Professor,” Harry answered.
Ron and Ginny sat as silently and as stationary as two stone statues. If truth be told, both were slightly intimidated by the austere Transfiguration Professor, who was deeply into her teaching persona, and not the heart-of-gold great aunt they had seen previously.
“I have lined up three items on the table, a feather, a small rock, and a rather large rock. Please stand one metre from the table facing towards me and levitate the feather about two metres above the table.”
Harry looked at the feather, pointed his hand, and raised the feather by lifting his hand slightly. The feather responded immediately, moving to the requested height before floating in mid-air.
“Good, Mr Potter. If you would, continue to raise the feather in two metre increments, until it will no longer respond to your spell on it.”
Harry followed the professor’s instructions until the feather literally disappeared from sight. “Please bring the feather back to the table, Mr Potter.”
A few seconds later, the feather landed gently on the table top.
“Could you feel any differences as the feather moved farther away?”
“No,” Harry replied, shaking his head. “It’s so light it was really easy to do.”
In rapid fashion, he went through the same steps with the small and large rocks. “As the distance grew, I needed to use more power, especially with the bigger rock,” Harry advised his instructor.
McGonagall arched an eyebrow. “I would certainly hope so.”
The tone of her remark caused Harry to look more closely at the professor. He smiled to himself when he saw the corners of her lips twitching upward and her eyes dancing. He smiled openly at the professor.
“Mr Weasley, do you have a Quaffle or similar sized ball we could use next?”
Ron snapped to attention. “Sure, Professor, just a minute.” He sprinted towards the shed. Disappearing inside, Ron soon came out holding two Quaffles. Returning to the group, he handed the balls to the professor and sat down on the bench.
“Next, we’ll try Banishing and Summoning. Mr Potter, initially I want to see how much control you have, so don’t send them out too far, fifteen, twenty metres would be fine. Then, bring the ball back to you.” The professor set one of the balls on the ground.
Harry nodded and slowly flicked his hand towards the ball. It went about twenty-five metres before stopping. Harry gestured towards himself and the ball returned to his feet.
Suddenly, Harry leaned against the table, his eyes closed, and a painful grimace on his face. A second later, the professor, Ginny, and Ron had raced to his side.
Harry felt sweat break out heavily all over his body, and his breath came in shallow gasps. As he became aware that people were crowded around him, he flushed crimson and stared at the table top.
“Sorry. It was nothing.”
Professor McGonagall started to say something, but she stopped when she saw Ginny move closer to Harry. The young girl gently placed her arm around the boy, and she whispered, “Harry, we know it was something. It’ll only hurt if you keep it inside. You’re with friends. It’s okay.”
Ron said, “I’ll get something to drink for everyone,” and he ran to the house.
Harry blinked rapidly before looking up.
Professor McGonagall suggested, “Why don’t we sit on the bench?”
Ginny guided Harry over and sat next to him, all the while rubbing his shoulders and upper back.
“I was in my crib at home,” he whispered. “I would send a stuffed animal out of the crib, then bring it back from wherever it landed. One time I hit a man who had messy, black hair like mine.” Both females gasped. He continued with a rough voice. “It must have been my father.” His eyes moved from Ginny to the professor, a lost look on his face. “I was doing this magic as a baby. I never knew that before.”
Ginny tightened her hug, while Minerva McGonagall moved from standing in front of the boy to sitting beside him. “I’m so sorry, Harry. I had no idea any of this would bring back memories.”
He looked at the professor through watery eyes. “You couldn’t have known.” He shook his head. “I didn’t even know it. The memory just swept over me when I brought the ball back.”
By the time Ron arrived with the cold drinks, Harry’s breathing had returned to normal. He quickly gave an abridged version of the story to Ron.
“It looked like someone had punched you in the stomach,” Ron said.
Harry smiled faintly. “That’s exactly how it felt.” Harry took a swallow of the pumpkin juice Ron had brought out, and then pressed the ice-filled glass against his forehead. His smile widened. “I have so few memories of my parents and most of them are of that night, so this is a good one to keep. I remember now that the stuffed toy I sent out of the crib at my dad was a big black dog.”
“You’re feeling better now?” the professor asked.
“Much better. Thank you.”
“Good. Let’s start the defensive lesson after this break.”
Three “greats” welcomed the professor’s comment.
Soon, the professor had the three students on their feet and had started her explanation of the Shield Charm.
“The Shield Charm is just that. It shields the wizard or witch from different types of spells. Unfortunately, it is not effective against any of the Unforgivables, but there is no chance those curses will be used at Hogwarts.
“The charm falls into the category of strength-based, in other words depending on an individual’s magical strength and experience with the charm the shield may be stronger or weaker than someone else’s shield. The stronger the shield, the more effective it will be in stopping a spell. Even if a shield is not strong, it can lessen the strength of a spell and enable you to continue defending yourself.
“There is a single word when casting the charm, and it is pronounced ‘pro-TAY-go.’ Your wand is pointed in the direction you want the shield to face. Let’s practice the charm a few times, then I will cast a few very weak stinging hexes at each of you. Ready?”
The three students nodded, each with a determined look.
“On three; one . . . two . . . three.”
A three-part chorus of “Protego” followed the last number.
“Good. Remember to point your wand directly at me, since I am the one who will be hexing you. One more time. Now.”
Three cries of “Protego” split the air.
“That’s better. Let’s start with Mr Potter, since he’s on the end. Mr and Miss Weasley, please pay attention to what Mr Potter does, so you can be included in the discussion of what he did right and wrong. On three, Mr Potter,” and the witch counted down the numbers.
Harry’s wand flashed directly at the professor, as he shouted “Protego.”
Professor McGonagall staggered backwards a few steps, while her Stinging Hex made a dull pop as it dissipated against Harry’s shield.
A curious, almost irritated expression immediately crossed the professor’s face. “Mr Potter, did you do anything else to push me backwards?”
Harry looked as confused by her question as Ron and Ginny did. “No, Professor, I just said and thought ‘Protego,’ like you told us.”
The witch stared at the boy, deep in thought. Finally, she said, “Let’s try it again. I’m going to cast a stronger hex. Mr and Miss Weasley, would you please stand on either side on me?”
They walked over and stood beside the professor as requested. “Ready?”
The same thing happened, except this time three people lurched backwards several steps, and in Ginny’s case a couple more.
“What did it feel like?” McGonagall asked, looking at the two Weasleys.
Ron answered more quickly. “Like I was being pushed.”
Ginny added, “Like a gentle shove.”
“Mr Potter, continue holding the shield, please,” the professor requested.
She walked forward until she literally stopped in mid-stride about a metre in front of Harry. “Drop the shield, please.”
Harry did, and the witch was able to walk up to him. “This is very interesting, Mr Potter. Your Shield Charm also seems to work as a form of Stunner, which is a spell that pushes people backwards and can knock them out, if strong enough.” She paused for a second, her brow furrowed. “How much power did you put into the shield?”
A puzzled expression came over the boy’s face. “I didn’t think of how much power to use. I just said the word and pointed the wand.”
Professor McGonagall nodded. “At our next lesson, let’s try to do the shield wandlessly. While we do not want you to do wandless magic at school, you would gain a huge advantage if you could cast one without your wand should the situation require it. We also can experiment with the amount of power you put into it.”
The professor worked with Ginny, then Ron, until their shields could stop a moderately strong Stinging Hex. After complimenting her three students on the efforts they had put forth, the professor said, “I will return in two days at nine sharp, if that meets your schedules.” Her lips quirked upwards.
Harry and Ginny smiled at the witch’s subtle joke, as all three agreed enthusiastically.
The professor turned to Harry. “I have something for you, Mr Potter. It is the item Professor Dumbledore mentioned that had belonged to your father.”
The witch’s face clouded for a moment. She reached into her bag and brought out a large piece of shimmering material. Ron and Ginny’s eyes widened in shock.
“Is that an Invisibility Cloak, Professor?” Ron asked.
“Yes, it is, Mr Weasley.” The professor handed the cloak to Harry. “Mr Potter, please wrap the cloak around your shoulders so it covers your body.”
Harry did as she asked and seconds later he, Ron, and Ginny gawked at the sight of Harry’s head floating in the middle of the Weasleys’ garden.
“That’s wicked,” Ron exclaimed, his eyes wide.
A look came over Ginny’s face that immediately reminded Harry of the twins. The young girl asked, “Can you see when the cloak is placed over your head?”
“A very good question, Miss Weasley. Yes, you can. But as you just witnessed, no one can see you.”
The professor’s soft expression turned stern. “Mr Potter, the cloak is being returned to you solely for the purpose of protecting you should it become necessary. It is not a toy to play silly games with. Personally, I would be very upset if students resorted to cursing another student for no reason.” She looked intently at each of them. “I trust there will be no reasons for any students wanting to curse you.”
Harry looked confused. “Don’t worry, Professor. I don’t plan on doing anything to draw attention.”
McGonagall’s expression softened. “I believe you, Mr Potter. If a student tries to create any problems for you, please see me immediately, rather than retaliating. That way I can go to that student’s Head of House and take care of the matter.”
“I’ll do that, Professor. Thank you.”
“Good. I have a second request.” Her eyes turned to the two Weasleys. “You should not loan out your cloak. You can imagine what some students would do if they could travel through Hogwarts while invisible.”
The three kids smiled, and Ron whispered under his breath, “Fred and George.”
“Indeed, Mr Weasley.” Her gaze returned to Harry. “Mr Potter, once school starts, I would suggest you keep the cloak with you at all times, since you’ll not know when you may need it. But please be discreet where and when you use it. I don’t want the entire student population to know you have an Invisibility Cloak. I’m sure all three of you understand why.”
They nodded their understanding, and the professor asked, “Do you have any more questions?”
Harry had been lightly running his fingers over the silky, feather-weight material. “This was my father’s?”
The professor’s initial look of sadness quickly changed to her normal neutral expression. “Yes. I understand that he inherited it from his father. They are very rare, quite expensive, and are usually handed down from parent to child. So, do be careful with it, Potter.”
“I will, Professor.” The earlier lost look returned to the boy’s face. “This is the first thing I have from my parents,” he whispered.
Ginny moved closer to Harry and grasped his hand. Ron’s curious expression quickly changed to understanding when he saw Harry’s face. He took a step towards the boy and raised his hand, but then let it drop awkwardly back to his side.
Harry quickly brightened. “This is great, Professor. Thank you. Please thank Professor Dumbledore for remembering this.”
The professor cleared her throat. “You’re welcome, Mr Potter. I will convey your thanks to the headmaster.”
Ron raised his hand again and stiffly patted Harry on the back a few times. “Hey, mate, they can’t do anything if they can’t see you.”
“That is the idea, Mr Weasley,” the professor said. “I need to return to school, but I will see you in two days for more lessons. Good day, Mr and Miss Weasley, Mr Potter.”
With a chorus of “goodbyes,” the professor walked to the back door. As soon as she was inside the house, Ron and Ginny clustered around Harry.
“May I touch it?” Ginny asked.
“Of course.” He looked at Ron. “Both of you can.”
“Thanks, Harry,” Ron said. “Whoa, it’s so smooth.” Ron looked at him with an obvious question.
Harry laughed. “Do you want to put it on?”
Ron grinned. “You must be a mind reader.”
Even though Ron was half a head taller than Harry, the cloak easily covered him. Harry and Ginny could tell he was moving around from the scuffling sound his trainers made on the dirt, but they couldn’t see anything.
“Is there a spell we can put on our feet, so we won’t make any noise when we’re walking?” Harry asked.
Ginny replied immediately, “With all their sneaking around, I bet the twins would know. Do you want to ask them now?”
“They won’t mind us asking?”
Ginny shook her head. “They’ve taught us lots of spells.” She grinned. “Amazingly, they’re pretty good teachers.”
The three kids quickly made their way through the kitchen and up the stairs. As they approached the twins’ room, George and Fred’s voices could be heard but the words weren’t clear. When Ron knocked on the door, the conversation stopped instantly.
Fred opened the door a few inches and looked out. “George, it’s our younger siblings, come to visit us.”
Ginny asked, “We need you to show us how to do a spell. Can you teach us now?”
Fred looked back into the room. “Sure. But give us a few minutes. We’ve been studying and have our books all over the place. Don’t want to get them damaged by a stray spell.” He closed the door before any of the three could respond.
“I bet they weren’t studying,” Ron whispered.
“More like another experiment,” Ginny said.
Harry said, “I’m going to put the cloak in my room.”
“That’s smart,” Ginny replied. “If they knew you had it, they’d probably want to borrow it from you.”
Harry raced down the stairs and put the cloak in one of the dresser drawers, then sprinted back to the twins’ room. He arrived just as Fred opened the door.
“C’mon, kiddies. What can we teach you? No Unforgivables, of course.”
As he walked in, Harry noticed the room still looked like an experiment gone bad. Books, parchment, quills, cauldrons, and lots of differently sized containers were haphazardly scattered around the room. Nothing stood out, so whatever they had been doing had been hidden.
The three kids exchanged glances, and Harry figured it was up to him to ask. “Would you teach us how to do a Silencing spell?”
Both twins looked intently at Harry, then they looked at each other for several moments. George smiled. “Ickle Harrikins, why would you and your playmates want to learn a spell like that?” A Cheshire cat smile appeared on his face.
Harry quickly answered. “Professor McGonagall said I should be careful going through school, right?” The twins nodded. “We thought this spell would help. I thought Ron and Ginny should learn it, too, since they’ll be with me sooner or later. If you’re too busy to help, I can ask Percy.”
The twins exploded.
“Percy?” Fred yelled. “You wound us, new bro.”
George continued, “We’ve already sworn to protect you . . .”
“. . . but why do you want to silence other people?” George finished.
The younger kids laughed, and Ginny finally explained, “We want to silence ourselves. If someone is going to try to hex Harry, at least they won’t be able to hear him.”
The twins’ eyes widened.
“We’ve never thought of that before,” Fred said. “Who thought of this?”
Ron patted Harry on the shoulder. “Harry did.”
Fred smiled, almost evilly. “Hmm, you may be sneakier than we gave you credit for. Maybe you’re not an Ickle Harrikins after all.”
Harry laughed. “Remember, my cousin and his gang used to chase me all the time, so this is kind of the same.”
“Since you’ve given us a new tool to use, so to speak, we will waive our usual consulting fee as a way to express our thanks,” George said. “May we assume you want to silence your feet?”
The three youngsters nodded their heads.
A serious expression came over Fred’s face. “Take out your wands. The word for the Silencing Charm is . . .”
Mrs Weasley’s voice reverberated up the staircase about an hour later. “Time for lunch. Wash up first.”
Fred grinned. “Let’s all silence our feet. Just make sure to cancel the spell when you get to the bottom of the stairs.”
The others quickly cast the spell, Harry doing his wandlessly. After washing up, they clattered silently down the stairs. Lifting the spell, they walked nonchalantly into the kitchen. Mrs Weasley started at the group walking in without the usual loud preamble.
“Oh, there you are.” She looked at them quizzically, then shrugged her shoulders.
“May I help you, Mrs Weasley?” Harry asked.
“No . . . oh sure, why not? Just bring the platter of sandwiches to the table, along with the bowl of crisps. Thank you, dear. Ginny, would you bring the juice over?”
In another minute, the food was served and conversation ceased as the kids attacked the ham and Cheddar cheese sandwiches, crisps, and sliced fruit. When lunch was finished, and the dirty plates placed in the sink, Ron looked at Harry and the twins.
“We haven’t played Quidditch in a few days.”
Ron’s suggestion was instantly agreed upon, until Harry spoke up. “Why don’t we have Ginny join us?”
Before any of her brothers could say anything, Ginny demurred. “Thanks, Harry, but I have things I need to do with Mum.” She looked sharply at her brothers. “Maybe some other time, if someone would ever teach me how to fly.”
The other boys shrugged their shoulders and headed for the back door. Harry looked at Ginny and raised his eyebrows in question.
Ginny said softly, “I really do have things to do.” She smiled. “Thanks.”
Harry got the feeling she was being truthful. “See you later then.” He quickly caught up with the other three.
While the boys were playing two-on-two Quidditch and tag, Ginny talked to her Mum. “During our lesson with Professor McGonagall, Harry mentioned he had nothing from his parents. It made me wonder if we’d gotten any more pictures or other things of his parents.”
Molly smiled warmly. “The response has been fantastic. I’ve received around a hundred pictures, five or six letters that recall events or show what James and Lily were like, and Remus has met with people to collect memories for the pensieve. He’s going to meet with Professor Dumbledore next week to collect his memories. We should be ready to give everything to Harry after that.” Molly paused, looking a bit worried. “How do you think Harry will react to getting all of these things at once when he’s never seen even one picture of his parents?”
Ginny sat silently, thinking about her mum’s question. When she finally responded, it sounded like she was talking to herself. “Harry wouldn’t like it if we made a big production, with lots of people around. He’d feel self conscious and probably would leave as quickly as he could. He’d be a lot more comfortable if you, Dad, and I gave the pictures to him, especially if we told him it was okay to look at them on his own. He’ll love the pictures and other stuff. Maybe once he’s gone through everything, he’ll want to share it with us. What do you think, Mum?”
Molly smiled. “I think you know Harry very well, sweetheart. After he’s gone through the pictures, maybe I can convince Remus to come here with the headmaster’s pensieve, so he can see the memories. Probably best not to give him the pictures, memories, letters, and mementos all at the same time. Plus, your dad and I have a surprise for him.”
Ginny looked at her mum. “You’re not going to tell me what it is?”
“No dear, it will be a nice surprise for you, too. I’m just glad I was able to Banish the pictures we had on the table when you and Harry came in. Spinning him around was quick thinking on your part. Do you want to know how you can be a big help to me again?”
“How’s that, Mum?”
“Do the boys’ laundry. That would give me some time to work on the album for Harry.”
As Ginny walked to the laundry room, a wicked grin crossed her face.
When the twins joined the rest of the family at the dinner table that night, the reason behind Ginny’s wicked grin became colourfully evident. Every stitch of clothing the twins wore was pink, not a soft pastel pink, but a shocking, iridescent, hot pink that was nearly blinding.
Everyone seated at the table stared at the twins, who acted like nothing was amiss. Mrs Weasley’s glare quickly moved from George and Fred to her daughter, who was quietly chortling, as she sat next to Harry.
“No wonder you were so eager to do the laundry,” Mrs Weasley said. “May I assume this is in retaliation for something the twins had done to you?”
Ginny shrugged, and the twins focused intently on their dinner plates. A deathly quiet settled over the kitchen table.
“Just as I thought,” Mrs Weasley said in a quiet but chilling voice. “Ginny, you get to polish the silver. Fred and George, degnome the garden, no magic and no help from Ron or Harry. I want both chores to be completed tonight.”
Ginny’s head bowed, her face flushed. But the twins quickly reacted.
“Tonight?” Fred whinged.
“We’ll be chucking those potato sacks in the dark,” George complained.
“Not if you get started right after dinner. I would recommend you stop complaining and eat quickly.” She pointed her wand at George. “Finite Incantatem.” The same spell was repeated on Fred, and their clothes returned to their normal colour.
“Uh, Mum?” Ron asked, but his eyes were focused on his dinner plate. “I was part of the prank on Ginny. I just didn’t wear those clothes.” He looked at the twins, then his mum. “I should help them.”
Both Mr and Mrs Weasley looked at their youngest son in surprise. “Ron,” his mother replied, “that was very, uh, honest of you.”
Mr Weasley added, “It was very mature of you to admit your responsibility in the prank.”
“Your offer to help the twins is appreciated,” his mum smiled, “and accepted.”
Ron nodded his head while the twins gawked at him.
Dinner resumed, though not quite like normal because Ron and the twins literally shovelled their food into their mouths, and Ginny was unusually quiet. When the three boys were granted permission to leave the table, the twins both caught Ginny’s eye. Fred mouthed ‘Good spell,’ and George held two thumbs up. Ginny lips curled upward in a closed-mouth smile. Harry noticed her mouth ‘Thanks,’ and the boys left the table smiling.
Harry looked from Ron and the twins to Ginny and back again. They aren’t mad at each other. If I ever pranked Dudley, he would kill me, and his parents would dump me at the kerb for rubbish removal. Here, it’s a fun game with no hard feelings.
Harry leaned over towards Ginny. “You’re not upset with each other?” he asked.
“Nope. I knew I would be caught because the twins wouldn’t be able to resist wearing the clothes. They’ll try to prank me next. If I play it right, I’ll make sure they get caught without me having to do any chores. It’s all part of the game.”
Harry just shook his head. “I guess I’ll read some of Percy’s third year Charms book.”
Ginny shook her head. “Have fun.”
Percy, who hadn’t said a word during the meal, stopped on his way to the stairs. “Harry, if you have any questions on any of the material, don’t hesitate to ask me.”
“Thanks, Percy,” Harry replied. The tall boy nodded his head and disappeared up the stairs.
Nearly two hours later, Harry went downstairs to see how everyone was doing with their chores. Ron and the twins were still degnoming the garden, and he found Ginny in the kitchen polishing silver. Two groups of silver service items sat on the kitchen table. Every piece in the much larger group shone brilliantly. Harry quickly counted the remaining pieces and was happy to see there were just four more to be polished.
“Wish I could have helped you,” he whispered.
Ginny’s eyes widened. “You didn’t prank them.”
Harry smiled. “No, but there are three of them to degnome the garden and only one of you to do the silver.”
Ginny smiled mischievously. “Well, if you help me prank them next time, maybe you will end up doing chores with me.”
“Fawkes, have I inadvertently put Harry on the same path Tom Riddle has taken?” Albus Dumbledore looked at his scarlet and gold-coloured familiar. The wizard’s face was pensive, and his eyes reflected a depth of concern that was painful for the man.
After the phoenix trilled several soft notes, the headmaster tilted his head towards the bird. “Well, thank you for that, my friend, however unintentional it may have been, it could very well turn out to be an unforgivable error on my part.”
The phoenix issued a sharp note that caused Dumbledore to wince. “Yes, I realize Mr Potter has choices and that there are many other variables. Still, the parallels are disconcerting. Both became orphans very early in life. While Tom went to an orphanage, I wonder whether Harry would have been better served doing the same . . .”
Fawkes squawked and stared without blinking, his expression showing what could only be described as outrage.
“No, no, I never would have let Harry be placed in an orphanage. Nevertheless, neither boy grew up with any love in their life or any role models to emulate. Harry’s situation may even have been worse than Tom’s. Harry was with family, his mother’s sister, yet he was horribly treated, thwarted even.” The elderly wizard closed his eyes and slowly massaged the bridge of his long, crooked nose. “Why didn’t I check periodically on the boy? I have asked myself that question repeatedly, and I have yet to come up with a satisfactory answer.”
He looked up at the bird, who steadily returned his gaze. “Did I presume too much? Did I naively trust in the sanctity of family? Perhaps I was too focused on the outcomes I wanted to achieve — protecting Harry through his blood relationship with his aunt, keeping him from public scrutiny and perhaps adulation, giving him a time of peace before he was thrust into the public awareness. Could these have been achieved had I only taken a few minutes of time to verify his life was progressing as it should have been?”
Melodic notes filled the air in the headmaster’s office. Dumbledore smiled in appreciation at his familiar. “Don’t worry, old friend, I will not allow myself to get overwrought.
“May I pose another question for you? Was I wrong to withhold the facts of his heritage from Harry?”
Fawkes’ response consisted of just two notes. “Yes, I can explain more fully. With each meeting, I find more and more of his parents’ qualities in the young man. He is obviously intelligent, which is more a reflection of Lily. But there’s an uncontrolled streak that is so reminiscent of his father, not to mention he is the spitting image of James at that age. It almost took my breath away when I first saw him. But his eyes, ah, they are purely Lily’s. And his temper seems to combine both of theirs.” The headmaster shook his head. “As does his magical power.
“There has been only one other student who had as much power as Harry seems to have, and that brings us back to my great concern. Only Tom possessed this level of power when he first came to Hogwarts. By placing Harry in an environment where his magic could not be expressed — indeed, be the cause of mistreatment by the hands of his guardians — did it grow much stronger than it would have had I placed him with a wizarding family? Did I somehow create the same situation that could have caused Tom’s magic to reach such a virtually unprecedented level?
“I wonder if the isolation the two boys shared, the lack of knowledge they were wizards, and the absence of love in their lives contributed to their power, their anger, and their lack of social skills. Would Harry have been better served growing up with the Weasleys, the Bones, or the Longbottoms, so he could have learned about magic and his place in the wizarding world over a period of time, rather than having it overwhelm him all at once? When do I tell him of everything he must know? Alas, when and how do I tell him of the Prophecy?
“From what Minerva, Molly, and Arthur have said, Harry is a wonderful young man, once you get past the understandable anger problems and lack of magical control. How can I reach him, now that he rightfully sees me as the reason behind most of the injustices in his life? How can he trust me when I’ve given him no reason to do so?”
Fawkes trilled a soft melody as Dumbledore rubbed his temples. When the song was completed, the headmaster looked up. “Thank you, Fawkes, the headache has lessened considerably.” He shook his head in remorse. “I cannot help but wonder if I have set Harry on the very path that I and every other person on the Light side abhor. My friend, it has become a constant nightmare that my actions and inactions may have placed Harry on the path to becoming another Voldemort.
“How do I rectify these mistakes, so Harry will forgive me?
“How do I forgive myself for doing these things to the poor boy?”
The activities at The Burrow had fallen into a pleasant rhythm. Three great meals a day, easy, sometimes fun chores, flying with Ron and the twins, reading Percy’s third year books, but best of all for Harry was the training. Professor McGonagall visited every other day for wandless training with Harry and defensive spells with Ron, Ginny, and Harry. With a week remaining in August, Professor McGonagall conducted a lesson in wandless spell casting using Harry’s favourite exercise.
“Mr Potter, I will Disillusion myself as I have done previously. Give me a minute to change positions, then I want you to walk through the garden area. Be prepared to defend yourself.” Her mouth curved up in a closed mouth smile. “Mr Potter, please do remember that I am your professor and try not to knock me out this time.”
Harry smiled back. “I’ll try, Professor, but I can’t promise it won’t happen again.”
His comment received the desired response, as the professor shook her head but allowed a small smile to form.
Harry knew he had to utilize what McGonagall called a “subconscious awareness.” When she had first described it, Harry immediately knew what she meant. ‘You should be able to function normally, whether in conversation, studying, or some other activity, while remaining alert to your surroundings, who is present, and which elements can be used by and against you.’
The awareness of his surroundings and the people in it was second nature to him, developed over the years by constantly having to evade Dudley and his gang.
Harry started moving silently through the garden, having cast the spell on his feet and on his face to stop his breathing noises. Within his first ten steps, he knew the professor was close by and concentrated on identifying her exact location.
Despite the Silencing Spell the professor had placed on her feet, Harry heard the rustle of her robes behind him and to the left. He pivoted in the blink of an eye, cast a silent Protego and in the next heartbeat directed a silent Expelliarmus at his target.
The witch’s wand flew into his open hand, a second after Harry heard a painful “oof” and the sound of the professor being knocked off her feet. He raced in the general direction of his tutor.
“Finite Incantatem,” he whispered.
The Disillusionment Spell was eliminated, and Harry saw Minerva McGonagall slowly raising herself into a sitting position, a shocked expression on her face.
Harry stood stock still, not knowing whether to apologize, help the professor up, or feel proud he had incapacitated such a powerful witch. He decided the best approach was to stand there silently.
Professor McGonagall shook her head, as if to clear it of any cobwebs, then she took several deep breaths. “Help me up, please, Mr Potter.”
As he moved forward, his silence broke. “I’m sorry, Professor. I didn’t mean to knock you out. I heard you and just reacted.”
He reached out his hand and grasped hers tightly, helping the professor to a standing position. When she started moving slowly to the wrought iron bench, Harry cupped her elbow and held her hand to help steady the elderly witch. When Professor McGonagall sat down, Harry remained standing, frozen by the inquisitive stare of the witch. Harry began to feel flush and shifted from foot to foot.
“I’m really sorry, professor,” he stammered.
“Pish posh. Harry, how in Merlin’s name did you do that?” Her stern expression relaxed and became more open.
Harry’s eyes goggled, and his mouth hung open, incapable of uttering a single sound. Finally, he gathered up his courage.
“You’re not mad at me?”
The professor looked curiously at her student. “No, Harry,” she said softly. “I just want to confirm my hypothesis. Please describe what you did in as much detail as you can. You are not in trouble.”
The boy heaved a sigh. “I heard the rustle of your robes, so I knew where you were.” The professor’s eyebrows arched. “I thought Protego as I turned towards you.” He stopped and looked puzzled for a second. “I used my left hand, so I could erect the shield more quickly, because that was the direction I was turning.” The statement sounded almost like a question. “When I was facing where I thought you were, I cast Expelliarmus. With my right hand?”
The professor smiled widely. “Exactly. You cast two different spells, one with each hand. And, Harry, you cast them almost simultaneously. I had no time to react to your movement. Bravo, young man. That brings you to an entirely new level.” The witch slowly reached out and grasped his hand with a warm squeeze. “I am very proud of you, Harry. You have worked very hard on your lessons, and that work is paying off splendidly. Congratulations.”
Harry beamed at his professor. “Thank you.”
The sound of the back door opening and the shuffling of feet brought the professor and her student back to the real world of The Burrow.
Professor McGonagall smiled at Harry. “It must be time for our defensive lesson,” and she turned to greet Ron and Ginny.
“I still can’t believe you knocked out Professor McGonagall again,” Ginny said while shaking her head.
“Well, I can’t believe you cast two spells wandlessly at one time,” Ron countered, a little more loudly than his sister. “No wonder she didn’t know what hit her.”
Bang!
Ron lurched backwards, but not quickly enough to stop his eyebrows from being singed by the fiery cards during their game of Exploding Snap.
Ginny laughed. “That’ll teach you to not pay attention.”
Harry choked back his laughter, while Ron attempted to put out the heat in his eyebrows by dipping a finger into his pumpkin juice and running it along his eyebrows.
“This is probably a good time to call it a night,” Mr Weasley said as he walked over and cast a healing spell on the boy’s eyebrows.
Percy and the twins already were upstairs, so the three youngest members of the family got up and headed for the stairs.
“Remember to brush your teeth.” Mrs Weasley called out. “Goodnight. Sweet dreams.”
“Good night, Mrs Weasley,” Harry replied.
“Good night, Mum,” Ron and Ginny echoed.
At the landing, Ron waved as he continued up the stairs. “Good night, Gin, Harry.”
The two kids stood a bit awkwardly at the landing, wanting to do or say something but not quite sure what.
Ginny finally said, “Have you noticed the moon has been getting fuller? It’s becoming brighter outside each night.”
“No, I haven’t noticed that.” He looked curiously at the young girl, wondering if she had any interest in astronomy.
“Sometimes, I sit at my window with the lights out before getting into bed and watch the stars and the moon.”
“Do you know any of the constellations?” Harry asked, feeling her initial comment now made more sense.
She smiled and nodded. “Daddy, err, Dad showed me the different formations and told me what their names were. He told me the stories about each constellation. I don’t know.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I just thought it was neat.”
“It takes you away?” Harry asked, taking a step towards her.
“That’s it,” Ginny said excitedly. “I don’t have chores or brothers that don’t understand or . . . anything else that bothers me. There’s this huge space so far from us, but we can see, and it has shapes and forms. It does take me away.” She smiled. “That’s a good way to describe how I feel.”
“You’ll have to show me the different constellations sometime.”
Ginny smiled. “That would be fun.”
“Kids?” They both started at the interruption. “Bedtime.”
“Okay, Mum.”
“Sorry, Mrs Weasley,” Harry called out. More softly, he said, “Night, Ginny.”
“Goodnight, Harry.”
Reluctantly, they parted and went into their bedrooms.
Harry sat at the end of his bed and looked out the window. Two observations startled him. The first was close by, in fact, just outside the house. Even though it wasn’t a full moon yet, the yard was surprisingly bright. He could see the garden, the shed, even the orchard in an amount of detail that surprised him.
The second was much further away. Even with the light from the waxing moon, Harry could see millions of stars, something that was impossible in the overbuilt, asphalt-covered, well lit estate that number four Privet Drive was located in.
There was no debate which locale he preferred.
Harry was revising the last of Percy’s third year books for the second time, when he raised his head in response to the light tap-tap-tap at his bedroom door.
“Come in, Mr Weasley. The door’s not locked.”
Mr Weasley entered the room and immediately noticed the book in Harry’s hands. “What are you studying this time, lad?”
“Percy’s third year Transfiguration book. I was reading about trans-species transfiguration, like rabbit to snake.”
Mr Weasley snorted a sharp laugh. “I would think many rabbits would meet their demise, if all of them weren’t changed to snakes at the same time.”
Harry’s eyes grew wider and his eyebrows shot up his forehead. “I never thought of that.” He started laughing. “We’d all have snakes with fuzzy lumps in them.”
Mr Weasley grinned. “I doubt if Professor McGonagall would have you transfiguring animals where one is a predator of the other.”
Harry shook his head. “It would be an exciting class if she did.”
“That it would, son.” Mr Weasley settled onto his usual end of the bed position. “Want to hear some more about your parents?”
“Nah, not tonight. I’m kinda getting bored hearing about them.” Harry scrunched his nose.
A second later the two wizards were laughing so hard tears streamed down their cheeks. It took them several minutes to recover.
Mr Weasley heaved a huge sigh. “Good one, Harry.” He leaned forward and ruffled the boy’s hair, while the boy smiled back at him. “I wanted to tell you about your father and the wizarding sport of Quidditch.”
Harry’s eyes widened again. “My dad played Quidditch?”
“Indeed he did, Harry,” Mr Weasley answered. “He was a Chaser and quite a good one from what I’ve heard. No doubt you get at least some of your flying ability from him. I know you are familiar with the different positions, but let me see if I can explain their roles in a real game, rather than your two-on-two contests in the paddock area.”
Mr Weasley launched into his story to his highly appreciative audience, ending nearly thirty minutes later with, “Your father made the team in his fourth year, which is somewhat unusual, since most of the teams are dominated by students in the upper form.”
“Upper form?” Harry looked puzzled.
“Oh, that term is not used too often anymore. It refers to students in the fifth, sixth, and seventh years. One last tidbit, then it’s lights out, my boy.” Harry smiled at the man. “All of our family — Mrs Weasley and I and all of our children so far — have been Gryffindors.
“You’re familiar with the House system at Hogwarts, right?” Harry nodded his head. “Good. Well, Bill played Keeper, Charlie was a Seeker.” Mr Weasley smiled proudly. “Many people say he was the best Seeker they ever saw. And you know the twins are Beaters. Only Percy hasn’t played. Your parents were Gryffindors, too, though your mum easily could have been in Ravenclaw, because she was very intelligent.” The man smiled. “But that is a story for another night.”
Harry looked up at the man. He was wearing a royal blue sweater vest, despite the summer warmth, along with an open-collared long-sleeved white shirt and dark grey trousers. He wasn’t handsome or powerful or brilliant, but in Harry’s eyes Mr Weasley was perfect, exactly what a father should be.
“Thanks, Mr Weasley.” Harry leaned forward for what had become their nightly hug, with his arms going around the wizard’s lower back and the man’s arms encircling the boy’s shoulders.
When they broke the hug, Harry said, “I really like hearing your stories.” He ducked his head and mumbled, “It helps a lot hearing about them. They’re real people now, even if I only have the dreams to know what they look like.”
Arthur Weasley smiled to himself. “It’s my pleasure, Harry.”
“May I ask a question about the Houses?” the boy asked.
“Of course, lad. What do you want to know?”
“Why do they split the students based on personalities?” Harry asked.
Mr Weasley blinked several times. “That is an excellent question, Harry.” He paused for a few seconds, gathering his thoughts. “The four founders of Hogwarts — Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Salazar Slytherin — each had different personal qualities, and they each sought to bring students that possessed those qualities into their houses. Eventually, they realized there had to be an objective way to continue the selection process once they had passed away, and Gryffindor charmed his hat to do the job. To this day, the same House system is used, and it is the basis for where and who you live with, the Quidditch matches, and for determining the winner of the House Cup.”
The man smiled at Harry. “During your first evening at Hogwarts, all the first years will go through the Sorting Ceremony. Gryffindor’s old hat is still used. Merlin, it must be around a thousand years old now. The student places the hat on his head, and the hat determines which house will be the best fit for that student. Once it decides, the hat shouts out the house name and the student goes to that table.”
Harry narrowed his eyes. “The selection is still based on the qualities the four founders wanted?”
“That’s right.”
“Why?”
Mr Weasley looked confused. “I, uh, I don’t understand your question, Harry.”
The boy continued to look like he was deep in thought. “The students in each house all have the same qualities, right?”
“Well, yes, certainly their dominant qualities are similar.” Mr Weasley continued to look puzzled.
“Isn’t that limiting, when all the same types of people are put into one house and compete against students with other qualities in Quidditch and this House Cup you mentioned?”
A look of understanding grew on Mr Weasley’s face. “That is an excellent thought, Harry.” The man continued speaking, but this time it was almost to himself. “By keeping personality types separate, the students are hindered from becoming well-rounded. In fact, students with other qualities become the opponent, whether it’s in sports or academics.” Mr Weasley’s eyes brightened. “Harry, do you know that most of . . .” He took a deep breath, “Vol . . . Voldemort’s Death Eaters came from one House?”
Harry nodded his head. “Slytherin. That’s what started me thinking about this. I wondered why the students weren’t divided by year like they do in Muggle schools, or alphabetically or just randomly. First in line goes to Gryffindor, second to Ravenclaw, until they are all assigned.”
“This is very perceptive, Harry,” Mr Weasley said. “I would recommend that you speak to the headmaster or Professor McGonagall about these ideas. I must caution you, however. It has been done this way for a thousand years and reflects what the four founders wanted for their school. So, don’t be surprised if you receive an answer along those lines.”
Mr Weasley lowered his voice. “If you do get that type of answer, do you want to hear what I would suggest?”
Harry eagerly nodded his head.
“Start breaking down the House structure yourself.” Harry’s eyes got big, and the man laughed. “Not literally or by yourself, lad. But talk to members of the other Houses, try to make friends with those you find interesting. But please be aware that there are some students who will want to befriend you solely because of who you are.”
Harry’s head dropped.
“Chin up, Harry.” Mr Weasley reached over and lifted the boy’s head so they were looking eye to eye. “You have excellent instincts and will be able to determine who is a friend and those who just want to be associated with you due to your fame.” The man’s voice softened. “I’m sorry that’s the case, lad, but it is something you will need to deal with, and my suggestion is to meet it head on.”
Harry smiled faintly and Mr Weasley ruffled his hair. “You will find very good friends throughout each house. But it will be up to you to make the effort, to not isolate yourself, or become angered over the attention you will receive.”
Mr Weasley shook his head and smiled. “I hadn’t intended to discuss that last bit until the night before you left for school.” Harry could see the man’s body relax. “But this time seemed appropriate. What do you think, son?”
Harry thought through what Mr Weasley had said. “It will be hard.” He looked at the man. “It’s hard for me to make friends. I couldn’t at school or in the neighbourhood. Dudley would see to that, and I didn’t want kids to get hurt.”
Mr Weasley’s expression turned angry, then sad. “Harry, Dudley Dursley will not be at Hogwarts, and his parents are no longer part of your life. In case you’ve not noticed it, you’ve made friends with each of our sons here and very much so with our daughter. You can count on their support at school. Well, except for Ginny, of course.”
The man moved up the bed towards Harry, until he was close enough to put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I know it won’t be easy, but you don’t have to hold back anymore. You won’t be punished for being yourself, for being smart, for being a nice young man, for being powerful magically, or for being known for something you did as a baby. Harry, that’s who you are. Don’t let other people make you less than you can be.
“Will you do that for me?”
Harry lunged towards the man, wrapping his arms around him as tightly as he could, and feeling the man respond immediately with a warm, fatherly hug. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and gave in to the wonderful feeling. A warmth grew inside him until every part of his body was encompassed by it. They remained in their embrace until Harry felt the warmth — the truth behind the man’s words — had become a part of who he now was.
I have a family.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“You’re welcome, son. We’ll always be here for you.”
The man and the boy finally released their embrace. “Have a good sleep,” the man said while getting up. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
They smiled at each other.
“Goodnight,” the boy said.
Harry soon fell asleep and immediately started dreaming a confusing mixture of flying when he was a toddler, while surrounded by his parents and other people, including a number with red hair, and playing Chaser as a young man in a Quidditch match in a huge stadium. Even though he was dreaming, Harry was confused by the stadium since he’d never actually seen one before.
He felt free and extremely excited. The people in the stands were blurs, because he was flying so fast. Harry moved around the other team’s defenders as if they were stationary. The Quaffle was tucked under his right arm, as he broke into the open, with only the Keeper between him and the golden rings. Harry faked right, then cut sharply to his left. When the Keeper committed to the ring on the left, Harry swerved a second time and smiled at how open the right ring was. He tossed the ball in underhanded, and a roar from the crowd made him smile. As he circled the stadium, he could hear the fans screaming his name over and over, ‘Harry, Harry . . .’
“Harry?”
The boy became confused because the sound didn’t come from the stadium. Instead, it came from someone close by.
Ginny’s soft voice reached his ears. Harry grabbed his glasses and could make out her form through the light and shadows created by the nearly full moon.
He sat up and stared in her general direction.
“I . . .” her voice was hesitant, not the normal confident tone he associated with the girl. “I wanted to see if you wanted to go flying.”
“What?” he asked a tad too loudly.
“Shhh,” she said, walking closer to the bed. “I can fly. No one knows. I fly at night. Would you fly with me?”
The boy smiled and nodded his headed enthusiastically. He quickly decided to focus on Ginny and flying, and to save his discussion with her father for another time.
Harry’s eyes had adjusted to the soft yellow moonlight filtering into his bedroom, and he could see Ginny had on pyjamas and a robe, so he reached for his robe at the end of the bed. The two youngsters tiptoed out of the bedroom and down the stairs, skipping the squeaky third step. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Ginny put her finger to her lips and peeked into the sitting room, even though no light came from the room. Then, she gestured towards the back door, and they sneaked out.
Once outside, Ginny whispered, “I’ve sneaked rides on their brooms since I was six, usually around the full moon, so it’s lighter outside.”
They reached the shed, where the brooms were kept, and Harry saw a large lock holding the two doors together and blocking their entry. A wave of disappointment swept over him.
Ginny turned to him, smiling. “Don’t worry. I know the spell to unlock things. Would you do it for me, Harry?”
“Sure.”
“Just say or think Alohomora,” she said.
The boy pointed his hand at the lock and thought ‘Alohomora.’ A second later, it opened.
“Thanks, Harry!”
Ginny pulled the lock off the hasps and opened the doors. Harry went in and grabbed the two best brooms, and Ginny closed the doors, reinserting the lock but not closing the clasp.
As soon as Ginny joined him and they had started walking towards the paddock area, Harry whispered, “I was dreaming about flying and Quidditch. I was a Chaser, just like my dad.”
Ginny smiled. “That’s a good dream.”
Harry nodded his head. “I’d just scored, and the crowd was chanting my name. Then, I heard you whispering my name. It felt strange to go from the dream to seeing you standing there.”
Ginny play scowled. “Are you saying I’m strange, Potter?”
Harry snorted. “I think I am, Weasley,” and he started running towards the paddock, while laughing loudly. Ginny chased after him.
In another minute, they were standing on the still dry grass of the paddock. Harry’s expression turned serious.
“You’ve learned to fly on your own?”
Ginny nodded her head. “I’ve watched my brothers for years. Bill and Charlie are excellent flyers. They’d let me sit on the broom with them when Mum and Dad weren’t around.” She threw her long hair back with a flip of her head. “I’m a good flyer, if that’s what you’re really asking.”
Harry smiled. “I bet you’re really good.”
Ginny’s expression quickly relaxed. “Thanks, Harry. I just need to tie my hair, then we can kick-off.”
Soon, they were flying in the warm summer night, bathed in the moon’s light, and laughing loudly in pure joy. Harry kept a close eye on his friend during the first few minutes they were in the air.
Ginny’s a better flyer than Ron and probably as good as the twins. He smiled. She flies the way I feel when I’m on a broom. It’s the best feeling I know, like nothing can touch me. Flying’s just a part of me, I guess. His eyes widened. Whoa! That’s the first time I’ve ever thought like that . . .
“Harry, are you okay?”
Ginny had flown next to him, when she saw Harry slow down and a look of deep concentration come over his face.
He smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine, just thinking.”
Ginny grinned. “No wonder I didn’t recognize the look on your face.”
Harry snorted.
The redheaded girl inched closer to his broom. Reaching out quickly, she touched his shoulder. Before he could react, she said, “You’re it,” and rocketed away, laughing loudly.
Harry quickly got over the adrenaline rush of being tagged, then laughed to himself and shot after her. The cat-like quickness and sensitivity to his surroundings honed by evading Dudley and his gang quickly translated to flying. His timing, instinctively knowing what to do and when, was second nature to the boy as he flew through the open paddock area, impressed by how fast and fluidly Ginny flew.
The two children raced after each other, tagging and being tagged, then flying together, trying to mirror what the other was doing and laughing when they separated. They carved figure eights, did loops together, and tried to mirror each other in barrel rolls. After the last roll, Harry caught Ginny’s eye and looked up. She nodded and they rocketed straight up, well past the tree line.
Suspended above the trees, floating effortlessly, the two kids looked around. The only light they could see, other than the moon’s, came from a few street lamps in the nearby village of Ottery St Catchpole. The stars formed a canopy above their heads. Both children smiled widely.
“Thanks for inviting me, Gin.” He pulled the Cleansweep closer to her and held out his hand.
She grasped it, interlacing her fingers through his. “It’s the first time I’ve flown with anyone.”
“First time I’ve flown at night.” He smiled mischievously. “Wronski Feint?”
Ginny goggled at him. “Are you insane?”
He grinned. “My relatives think so.”
In the next instant, he had slipped his hand out of Ginny’s and pointed the broom downward. Harry looked over his shoulder at the disbelieving girl. “Coming?”
A blurred second later, he was hurtling towards the grass-covered earth below. Ginny shot after him but at a somewhat slower pace.
With the light from the moon, Ginny could see Harry perform the Feint, her heart in her mouth, until she saw him pull up on the broom so he paralleled the grassy surface. It looked as if his trainers were skimming the top of the grass.
Seconds later, she was on the ground yelling at the grinning boy. “You are insane. You could have killed yourself. There’s no way you could tell when to pull out. What if I had to get Mum and Dad if you’d ploughed yourself? You would have been halfway to . . . I don’t know where. It doesn’t matter. There would have been nothing left of you. Don’t. Ever. Do. That. Again. Harry Potter. Do you understand me?”
Harry ducked his head. “Sorry, Gin.” But when he looked up, he couldn’t hold back his laughter.
Ginny’s eyes got wide, and she lightly swatted his arm. Seconds later, she joined his laughter.
When they finally calmed down, she asked, “Merlin, Harry, how do you do that? I could barely see the ground from up there.”
He shook his head. “Dunno. I just know when.” A thoughtful expression came over his face. “Maybe I could teach you. Would you like that?”
Ginny smiled. “Just as long as you don’t plough me too often.”
“Fair enough.” He looked at her. “Could I ask a favour?”
She looked at him curiously. “Sure.”
“Would you teach me some stuff about the stars?”
“Sure,” she said excitedly. Ginny grabbed his hand and pulled him by the tree she sat at the first time he flew with her brothers. “Lay down.”
He did, and she quickly joined him.
“Mars is bright tonight,” Ginny said nonchalantly.
Harry looked at her in surprise. “You know which of those stars is Mars?”
“Sure, but it’s a planet, not a star.” Ginny started laughing before Harry could say anything. She moved closer to him, so she could point out the planet. “Go straight up over the centre of the tallest tree on the far side of our property.” She gestured in that direction. “It’s still pretty early, so it will be low in the sky. See it?”
“Yeah. It is bright, now that you point it out.” He paused. “Would you point out some of the constellations your dad showed you?”
Ginny turned her head towards Harry. “You really want to know? You’re not just having me on?”
He rolled onto his side and propped his head on his upraised hand, so he could look directly at the young girl’s face. “I wouldn’t take the mickey out of you about this. Your dad taught you about the constellations and planets.” They both ghosted small smiles. “Besides, I think it’s brilliant that you know about this stuff.”
Her smile made the moon look pale in comparison. “Okay. Sirius is known as the Dog Star. It’s located . . .”
After showing Harry three constellations, accompanied by an increasing number of yawns from both of them, Ginny said, “It must be getting late. We probably should go in.” Harry faked a snore. “Prat,” she said, nudging his shoulder.
His head popped up. “Yup.”
He grinned as he stood up and extended his hand to help Ginny. Once she was upright, Ginny stretched, reminding Harry of how a cat stretches after a nap in a pool of sunshine.
“Thanks for the astronomy lesson,” he said.
“My pleasure, kind sir,” she replied and gave him a small curtsey. “You’re a good student, Mr Potter.”
Harry picked up the two brooms and slung them over his shoulder. As they walked down the path that took them back to The Burrow, one hand grasped the other, though neither child showed any signs of being aware of the action.
Chapter 19: Ponds, Pensieves, and Power
Author's Notes: If SIYE’s Donation Campaign is still going when you read this – and you haven’t done so already – please donate whatever amount is comfortable for you, as soon as you finish this chapter. And no, for you cynics, I don’t get a percentage of your donation for doing this! Thank you!
This chapter got so big – almost 34,000 words – cwarbeck, my beta extraordinaire, strongly “suggested” that I divide it in half. So, instead of this being the last of our time with the Weasleys, as promised in Chapter 18, there remains one more chapter (Ch 20) before we wave a fond farewell to The Burrow. To make up for my miscalculation, Chapter 20 will be posted about day after this chapter.
It is again time to remind everyone that this is an AU story. This chapter will underscore why I selected that category. For example, Percy will respond to Harry in ways we have not seen in canon. Hmm, I wonder what you guys are thinking now. Harry and Remus meet earlier than they do in canon, and the twins gift Harry with something unexpected.
Also, I’ve used several shield spells that aren’t found in canon. Unfortunately, I’ve seen them used so often in other fics that I have no idea who first created these spells. If anyone wants to take credit for inventing them, let me know. If I were to list all the stories I’ve seen these spells in, I’m quite sure the record for longest A/N would be broken. I did make up the names for the three shields – at least I think I did.
Oh, Harry and Ginny have a conversation (at the pond) in which they joke about a type of communication that has been prominently used in some other fan fic stories. Absolutely no disrespect is intended to the authors or their stories. In fact, several of these stories and their authors are among my favourites at SIYE. Once you get to that scene, you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about here.
Well, I’ve been going on for far too long. Enjoy the chapter and whisper a word of thanks to the wondrous cwarbeck for her beta work. I do that repeatedly, but then I have to – it’s in my contract with her. She made me sign it with a blood quill. But that’s a story for another time. Gotta go. I’m being yelled at.
Thanks to TGIF for suggestions regarding emotional/physical deprivation and the success of animal substitutes (ie, use Hedwig more). I highly recommend you read Christine’s first fan fic, Losing a Wizard in Two Weeks.
Mrs Weasley’s insistent voice finally made its way to Harry’s brain, which in turn started the process of waking the slumbering boy, despite the fact that he had been in bed for just five hours. Late night flying and conversation with redheaded females can lead to that predicament. Harry rolled from his right side onto his back and debated opening his eyes. Deciding more sleep was needed, he rolled back onto his side, his eyes still closed.
A few minutes later, the door opened.
“Harry? Are you still asleep?” Mrs Weasley asked.
“Yes,” the boy answered and began laughing to himself.
Mrs Weasley started laughing along with him after a few seconds, and he rolled over. “Good morning, Mrs Weasley.” But his eyes remained shut.
“Are you feeling alright, Harry?” she asked quietly. “You’re usually up earlier than this.”
“I’m fine, Mrs Weasley,” came his automatic response.
He finally coaxed himself out of bed, yawned, stretched, and asked Mrs Weasley, “Do you need some help with breakfast.”
She smiled. “It’s already made and waiting to be eaten.”
Harry grabbed his robe and ambled towards the door. “Sounds good to me.”
While they walked down the stairs, Harry wondered why Mrs Weasley had woken him up. He noticed it was only a little after seven o’clock, and he had slept in later than that on several occasions. He glanced at the woman and thought she seemed both excited and a bit preoccupied.
His curiosity finally got the better of him, and Harry asked, “Is something happening today that I forgot about?”
Mrs Weasley started. “Oh, no, nothing like that. I just thought you’d want to get a jump on your day,” she said.
When they reached the kitchen, Harry was surprised to find that Mr Weasley was the only other person up. The man turned as soon as he heard his wife and Harry enter the kitchen.
“How are you this morning, lad?”
“Fine, Mr Weasley.” He glanced at Mrs Weasley. “Just getting an early start on the day.”
Before Mr Weasley could reply, Mrs Weasley said, “Here you go, Harry, scrambled eggs with ham and fried potatoes. Tuck in.”
“Looks great, Mrs Weasley. Thanks.”
Despite focussing on his food, Harry noticed that Mrs Weasley was constantly watching him, though she tried to be subtle in her observations. When he finished and put his plate and utensils in the sink, Mrs Weasley smiled.
Mr Weasley got up from the table and went into the laundry that was adjacent to the kitchen, while Mrs Weasley said, “Harry, please sit down. We have something to go over with you.”
A jolt of adrenaline raced through Harry’s system. Oh God, that’s why they got me up early. Something’s wrong. Maybe they can’t keep me any longer, and I’ll have to go back to the Dursleys. No, that can’t be right. Mr Weasley wouldn’t have said those things last night. Just calm down.
Harry’s raging thoughts were interrupted when Mr and Mrs Weasley sat down on each side of him. Mr Weasley had a stack of folders in his hands. He cleared his throat.
“Harry, you’ve made comments about not remembering what your parents look like, except through those recent dreams, and how your relatives never had any pictures or told you anything about them.”
Mrs Weasley continued. “We wanted to see what we could do to help fill in those missing pieces.”
“Son, the response to our requests was overwhelming. The first things we want to give you are these three photo albums.” Mr Weasley placed them in front of the silent, wide-eyed boy.
Harry looked from Mr Weasley to Mrs Weasley and back again. “They’re pictures of my parents?” he whispered.
“Your parents, you, and some of their friends,” Molly Weasley replied quietly.
“We also received several letters, two certificates of theirs, and a friend of your parents, Mr Lupin, collected pensieve memories from people who knew them.” Mr Weasley paused, then looked like he had just remembered something. “We didn’t want to overwhelm you with all of these items at one time, and we thought the photos would be the best place to start. Just let us know when you would like to see the other materials.”
Harry stared at the albums sitting in front of them. “You did this all for me?”
“Yes, dear.” Mrs Weasley looked closely at the boy. “We know we’ll never replace your mother and father — we’d never want to do that — but you are part of our family now, and we hoped these pictures and other things will help to fill in the gaps a little bit.” She looked flustered. “If you’re not comfortable looking at the pictures in front of us, we will understand.”
The boy’s head shot up. “No,” he said sharply, then his voice returned to its usual quiet level, “that’s not it at all. It’s just . . . that . . . no one’s ever done anything like this for me.” He took a deep breath. “And my parents are in these albums. I want you to be here. Can we get Ginny, too?”
“Of course, dear, “Mrs Weasley quickly replied. “I’ll get her right now.”
She moved up the stairs at a much faster pace than Harry was used to seeing from Mrs Weasley. Within moments, she returned with a sleepy Ginny Weasley, who sat down next to Harry.
“Do you know about the pictures your parents got for me?” Harry asked, noticing that the girl’s energy level seemed to be increasing.
“Yeah. That’s why I spun you around when we walked into the kitchen that day.” She smiled at the boy.
Harry smiled back. “You were quick, so was your mum. She Banished the pictures to their bedroom.”
“We’d been collecting the pictures and other stuff for weeks by that time, so we really didn’t want the surprise to be spoiled before it was completed.” She looked at the stack of albums. “You haven’t looked at them yet?”
Harry shook his head slowly and looked at Mr and Mrs Weasley. “They just gave them to me. I wanted you to be here when I started looking at them.”
“Oh, Harry,” the girl gasped and blinked rapidly. She took several deep breaths and smiled. Soon, their hands were intertwined. “Did you want to look at them now?”
Harry blinked rapidly and pulled the first album off the stack and placed it in front of him. He looked at Ginny and Mr and Mrs Weasley again, then started to open the cover of the first album, his heart pounding in his ears. Seeing the pictures was the thing he wanted to do most in the world . . . and the least.
It’ll never be the same again. I’ll see exactly what they looked like, not some fuzzy images in a dream. I’ll see myself with them, being held by them.The reality sent a cold shiver down his spine. They won’t be just names anymore or someone’s memories. They’ll be real and my parents and they’ll still be dead.
A warm squeeze of his hand stopped Harry’s spiralling thoughts. He turned and smiled at Ginny and flipped open the cover of the first album.
His breath came in painful gasps and his eyes blinked furiously to hold back the accumulating moisture. His parents were looking at him from the three pictures on the first page.
His mum and dad stood together in front of the open door of a grey-coloured bungalow. Both were smiling, occasionally waving towards the person holding the camera. Then, his dad swept his mum off her feet and carried her through the doorway. The actions repeated endlessly.
They were real.
They had lived.
There was no doubt they loved each other. Despite having very little experience with that emotion, Harry instantly knew from the way his parents looked at each other, their eyes shining, smiles forming without thought, light touches made instinctively.
They were his parents.
Other people’s words, no matter how sincere, melted into irrelevance after seeing just this one picture of them. He did have his father’s midnight black, unmanageable hair. They both wore glasses, though his father’s wire-rimmed pair were much more stylish than his cheap, off the pharmacy rack plastic-rimmed model. He had the same physical features as his father. Both were lanky. Harry couldn’t tell how tall his father was but guessed he was of average height, maybe a little taller. The boy’s thoughts turned angry when he considered the potential limiting effects on his growth created by the minimal amounts of food the Dursleys had fed him.
The anger quickly dissipated as he gazed at his red-haired mum. He couldn’t remember seeing any woman who was more beautiful than she was. Her hair was thick, a darker red than the Weasleys’, and it fell well below her shoulders. She was shorter than his dad — the top of her head was level with the bottom of his nose. Even in a photograph, his mum’s power was obvious. A feeling of pride surged through Harry, knowing his mum had become a powerful witch despite being Muggle-born. Just as important, he could tell she was a nice person, open and caring, and at that moment, carefree. His breath hitched.
Her eyes were his eyes.
Harry felt as if he were looking into a mirror. Their eyes had the same shape, the same intensity, but most of all, they were the same virtually one of a kind green colour. Looking at her eyes led Harry to one inescapable truth. He was her son. Again, he felt a longing unlike anything he had felt before, but it was strangely coupled with an equally strong knowledge that he finally belonged somewhere and to someone.
His parents.
He was their son, and nothing would ever change that fact.
He could feel Ginny’s hand gently rubbing his back, making soft circles and massaging his shoulders. He looked at the young girl and noticed moisture pooling in her eyes and reflecting the light in the kitchen. His hand found hers, and he squeezed. Her closeness and touch seemed to anchor him to the kitchen where they sat, to the here and now, while allowing his thoughts to go back to the time when the photographs were taken and life was so different. His gaze swept from the girl to her parents, who were anxiously watching him, not knowing if what they had done was the best or worst action possible.
“Thank you,” he whispered to Ginny and her parents. Before they could answer, he turned to the next page in the album.
His world exploded when he saw himself, as a baby, in the arms of his parents.
That was the proof, beyond the physical similarities, something infinitely better than the dreams or someone’s recollections, even though Mr Weasley’s stories meant so much to him. It took only one glance at the picture to know that he was loved by his mum and his dad. The expressions on their faces, but mostly the light in their eyes, showed without a doubt he had been loved by these two people.
He had been part of a family.
Why were they killed? Dumbledore still hasn’t given me the real reason.
I could have been part of a real family, had brothers and sisters, and parents who loved all of us. I wouldn’t have this scar and everything that comes with it.
Voldemort caused this!
Dumbledore made it possible!
He cost me my family!
Harry wrenched himself out of those thoughts and looked at the people sitting around him.
Why am I here? They aren’t my family!
Stop that!
He took several deep breaths to calm down.
The Weasleys are as close to a real family as I could hope for. I’m lucky to be with them. They’ve done nothing wrong.
He looked again at the three people sitting close to him, and their expressions caused his heart to clinch.
“Harry?” asked Ginny in a timid voice.
They’re worried I hate what they’ve done. Oh God, do they think I hate them?
The boy reached for all the good memories he had of these people.
Mr Weasley’s stories, his patience and understanding, especially with the hand touching, how he had come to epitomize what a father should be.
Mrs Weasley, fighting her mothering instincts until he was comfortable with his new surroundings and the family members. How she strove to overcome everything the Dursleys had — and hadn’t — done. Her wonderful meals and her willingness to share her knowledge of cooking and housekeeping charms.
Ron, George, Fred, and Percy — so different from each other, yet so similar. They had accepted him immediately and unconditionally as a part of their family, despite how different he was from them. Their unquestioning support of family and him. How they could both prank each other and provide assistance without a moment’s hesitation defined what brothers should be.
Ginny, maybe most of all, had shown him how to open up and trust someone, how to be a friend, and the wonderful feelings that created. He felt a connection with her that was so natural he hadn’t even thought about it before. It was there; it was part of them. She had made everything easier.
I need to let them know what they mean to me.
He looked intently at the three family members.
“If my parents had been able to select who I would stay with, they would have picked you.”
An explosion of emotions engulfed Harry. As one, the three redheads gasped, then moved instinctively to express their relief, their understanding, their support, and their reassurance that Harry was considered a member of their family. Harry felt as if their hugs had drawn him into the middle of their family, and he revelled in the warm feelings behind the physical expressions.
Once their feelings had been expressed and any worries expelled, the joy of seeing his parents, himself, their friends, and a bit of what his early life might have been, came to dominate Harry’s feelings as he eagerly moved from page to page in the three albums.
Mr and Mrs Weasley helped expand what the pictures showed by adding insights where they could, identifying people unfamiliar to Harry, and where and when the pictures were taken.
The feeling of being part of something — first through his parents and now with the Weasleys — far outdistanced the depths his initial reactions to the pictures had taken him.
Harry felt exhausted when they finished examining the last page of the third album. He looked at the three people closest to him, each gazing at him with obvious, and slightly nervous, anticipation.
“I can’t thank you enough.” They started smiling. “I, ah,” he sighed in mild exasperation, created by wanting to find the perfect words. “These pictures . . . they make everything real for the first time.” He concentrated. “It’s like . . . it’s like they fill something . . . something inside me that I didn’t know was missing.” He shook his head. “Does that make any sense?”
Six arms and three hearts reached out to Harry again, leaving no doubt his words made perfect sense.
On the morning of Hogwarts minus four days, Harry got up at his usual seven o’clock hour, quickly showered and dressed, and headed down the stairs, careful as always to miss the squeaky third step so he would not wake Ginny, who always slept later.
Harry tried to keep from looking surprised as he entered the kitchen. Mr and Mrs Weasley usually were up at that hour, and today was no different. Mr Weasley sat at the end of the table closer to the stairs, while Mrs Weasley prepared breakfast for the starving horde known as the Weasley family. This morning, however, the scrubbed and rather stiff Percy Weasley turned at the sound of Harry entering the kitchen.
After Mr and Mrs Weasley had warmly greeted the young boy, Percy said, “Good morning, Harry. I trust you had a good night’s sleep.”
Harry bit back a smile. “I did, thank you. It’s nice to see you this morning.”
Percy immediately understood the question contained in Harry’s remark. “I have a meeting for lunch today, so I wanted to get an early start on the day.”
Harry was a little surprised Percy didn’t say who he was meeting for lunch but decided it was none of his business. “Do you have a little time this morning to help me with one of the subjects I’ve been studying with Professor McGonagall?”
Percy straightened even more than usual at the mention of the professor’s name. “What did you have in mind?”
Harry looked closely at the fifth year boy and was pleased to note that his expression was open and slightly inquisitive. “We’ve been studying the Shield Charm, and I wondered if you knew any others. Professor McGonagall is teaching Ron, Ginny, and me, because she and the headmaster think I could be hexed while walking around Hogwarts.”
Percy winced. “That is a proactive decision on their part. As much as we don’t like interhouse rivalries, they are a part of life at Hogwarts.” Percy’s expression and voice softened. “It is not logical, but there are wizards out there who still blame you for the downfall of their Dark Lord.”
“Voldemort?” Harry asked.
Percy’s head jerked back at the sound of the name and his eyes widened. “Y-y-yes. Harry, most wizards do not use his name.”
Harry nodded. “Dum, err, Professor Dumbledore always uses his name, so that’s how I learned. I didn’t know it was a big deal.” He looked pointedly at Percy. “Sorry, I startled you.”
Percy nodded. “He’s been called ‘You Know Who’ or ‘He Who Must Not Be Named’ for so long now those are the only names most people use.” Percy stopped in thought. “It is just a name.” He looked at Harry. “V - Vol — Voldemort.” Percy nodded his head sharply. “There, I said it and nothing happened.”
“That’s why you’re in Gryffindor, Percy,” Mr Weasley said.
Both boys jumped at the man’s words, having been so engrossed in their conversation they had forgotten Mr and Mrs Weasley were in the same room.
Percy smiled briefly. “It will take some getting used to, but it is just a name.”
“Did you know his real name is Tom Riddle?” Harry asked.
Percy turned to him in surprise. “No. That’s the first time I have heard that.”
“Professor Dumbledore told me. Tom Riddle went to Hogwarts about fifty years ago. He was in Slytherin and was a Head Boy.”
Percy goggled at the last piece of information. “He was a Head Boy? That’s beyond shocking.” Percy looked lost for several seconds.
“He just made up the other name.” Harry added.
Harry watched as Percy analyzed the new information. Finally, the new prefect said, “Since most people didn’t even use the other name . . .” Percy huffed. “Because they used the other names instead of V-Voldemort, most people probably didn’t question whether it was his real name.”
By this time, both boys had finished breakfast. Before either got up from the table, Percy said, “I’d be happy to teach you several other shields I’ve found while researching on my own. We have plenty of time, since I’m meeting . . . um . . . the other person at noon. Shall we go outside, so we can discuss and practice them?”
“That would be great, Percy. Thank you.”
Both boys put their breakfast dishes in the kitchen sink.
“Thanks, Mrs Weasley,” Harry said as they walked towards the back door.
“We’ll be in the garden,” Percy said.
Harry noticed Mr and Mrs Weasley smiling at each other as he went through the back door and wondered what caused their reaction.
Once they reached the garden, Percy’s expression became serious and Harry could imagine the boy standing in front of a class lecturing.
“I’ve found three shields through my independent reading — two are purely defensive and one has offensive capabilities. The easier of the two defensive shields is Protego Circulo, which creates a shield that surrounds the person who cast it. It is very useful when you don’t know where the attack is coming from or if you are surrounded.”
Harry thought, That might better than the regular Protego when we’re at Hogwarts.
“The second shield is Protego Maximus, which covers a larger area than the standard spell. The size of the area covered is dependent on two factors. The first is the amount of power put into the spell. For example, more power is needed to shield four people than if there are just two of you.”
Harry couldn’t resist. “Unless one of them is Hagrid.”
Percy stared at Harry for a moment before laughing. “That’s true. Good one, Harry.”
The third Weasley brother returned to his lecture mode. “The second factor is the magical strength of the wizard casting the spell. Harry, I’ve heard from my siblings and parents that you are very powerful, despite your lack of experience in the magical world. That would indicate that you would be able to cast a stronger shield and one over a larger area than I would be able to do.”
Harry looked at Percy, a puzzled expression on his face. “The twins said you were probably the top student in your year.”
A look of surprise flickered momentarily on Percy’s face, then a resigned expression took over. “That was nice of them to say that.” He paused a few seconds. “I’m not as powerful as any of my brothers or Ginny, but I do know more spells than any of them, well, except for Bill now that he’s a curse-breaker for Gringotts in Egypt. It all has to do with the wizard’s magical core. I’m afraid it’s just one of many ways I differ from the other members of my family.”
“I know what you mean.” Percy looked sharply at Harry. “Can you imagine being a wizard with the Dursleys?”
Percy immediately turned red. “Harry, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Of course, you would know what it is like to be different.”
“It’s okay. I knew you didn’t mean it that way,” Harry quickly replied. “Can I tell you something your dad told me?”
Percy leaned forward, nodding his head. “Your dad told me to be myself, to not hold back, or worry about what other people think.”
Percy stood there quietly, thinking about what his father had said. When he finally spoke, it sounded more like he was talking to himself. “Take pride in my abilities, even if they’re different than the other family members. Don’t be embarrassed or irritated by them. We can still share lots of things . . .” He looked up, almost embarrassed when he realized he had been speaking out loud. “Thanks, Harry. I, uh, overheard Ron and the twins saying they’ll be there for you. I will, too, any way I can.”
He stiffly held out his hand, and Harry shook it. Percy returned to has academic mode. “Let’s practice the spells. Well, all except Reverso.”
Both boys laughed.
Percy explained that the Protego Reverso was essentially a regular Protego shield, but with a wicked addition that caused the spell to rebound off the shield right at the wizard who had cast it. Harry thought it was a great spell but wondered if he would get in trouble if a student, even one who had tried to hex him, got hurt from the rebound.
Percy quickly moved to the other two spells. “The incantation, Pro-TAY-go CIR-cu-lo, is accompanied by this wand movement,” and he demonstrated for Harry. “Let me go behind you. What hex does Professor McGonagall use?”
“Usually a mild Stinging Hex.”
“Okay, that’s what I’ll use. On three, bring up the shield and I’ll cast the hex.”
On three, Harry strongly repeated the words, while moving the wand as Percy had instructed.
“I take it you didn’t feel anything since you didn’t react,” Percy said.
“Nothing at all.”
“Let’s try one more time.”
On the count of three, Harry repeated the words and wand movement, and again didn’t feel anything hitting him.
When he confirmed that, Percy said, “I used more power this time. Good job, Harry.”
With Percy’s detailed and patient instruction, Harry duplicated his initial success with the Protego Maximus shield.
“Could we try each one another time?” Harry asked.
Percy looked curious. “You did a fine job on both. Why do you want to repeat them?”
“Ah,” he mumbled, “I wanted to try to do them wandlessly.” Harry felt his face grow hotter.
“Oh, that’s fine,” Percy said. “Good idea.”
Harry raised the Circulo shield, then the Maximus, wandlessly and wordlessly. He didn’t feel Percy’s hex penetrate the shield either time.
“Thanks for doing them again, Percy. It’s really nice of you to teach me these new spells.”
Harry noticed that Percy had an inquisitive expression on this face, and it appeared the boy’s brain was working overtime. “Could we talk a little bit about your magic?” Harry nodded. “Do you feel anything when you’re doing magic?”
Harry’s eyes brightened. “Yes! When I cast anything, I feel it here.” He patted his stomach. “It feels warm and moves through my arm and hand whenever I do anything. The stronger the spell, the more I feel it.”
“Really?” Harry nodded. Disappointment overwhelmed Percy’s face. “I don’t feel anything. It’s all up here,” and he tapped his head, just above his temple.
Harry bit back a laugh. “Ah, maybe you’re thinking too much.”
Percy laughed out loud. “Me? Overthink something? No way!” He nodded his head in a friendly manner, and they walked towards the house, still laughing about Percy’s comments.
As they entered the kitchen, Harry said, “Thanks for teaching me. The spells will be very helpful.”
“Anytime, Harry,” and Percy headed upstairs.
Harry quickly noticed that four pairs of eyes were on him, as he stood in the kitchen. “Hi, guys. Hi, Ginny.”
The twins smiled at him. Ginny remained silent, not bothering to look up.
“You were practicing spells with Percy already this morning?” Ron looked shocked, but Harry couldn’t figure out whether it was due to the hour or the fact that Percy had taught him something.
Harry nodded. “He showed me three great Shield Charms — one that circles the person, another that can cover several people at once, and a wicked one that reverses the curse and sends it back at the person who cast it. I’d be happy to show them to you after breakfast.”
Ron, George, and Fred quickly accepted the offer. Ginny remained silent.
“Ginny?” Harry asked, “Do you want to join us?”
The redhead finally looked up, and Harry felt like the heat from her glare would give him a sunburn.
“Why would I want to go with you gits?” The sarcastic tone of Ginny’s voice took Harry by surprise. “You don’t care if I’m there or not.”
Harry’s eyes moved from one sibling to another. The twins acted as if Ginny’s behaviour was commonplace, but Ron’s cheeks had flushed a bright red. Ginny had dropped her head and was staring daggers at the table top.
Harry’s stomach crashed, and he could feel heat flaming down his back and across his forehead. His voice sounded foreign to his ears. “The shields are really g . . . good. I’d be happy to show them to you.”
Ginny’s head lifted slowly until she was staring into Harry’s eyes. “Leave me alone.” Her words paled in comparison to the coldness in her voice.
Ginny shoved her chair backward, having to catch it before it pitched over. George and Fred had identical smiles as Ginny left the table.
“Isn’t she a little ray of sunshine?” George said in a sing-song falsetto.
“Do you still think our darling sister is all peaches and cream, Harry?” Fred asked.
“George, Fred, ease up on your sister . . .” their mother cautioned.
“I don’t need you to defend me with these two,” Ginny yelled and moved towards the stairs. Just before she reached the landing at the foot of the stairs, Harry saw that she had caught him staring. “What are you looking at?” She yelled, though her eyes widened for a split second. “You gits are all the same.”
“Young lady, you don’t . . .” her mum let the thought slide.
Ginny stomped up the stairs, grumbling loudly about her brothers, and then her door slamming echoed throughout the house.
All of the boys, including Harry, looked to Mrs Weasley for an explanation. She shrugged and said, “I don’t have a clue what’s going on with her.”
Molly returned to washing the dishes by hand for a second time. When she finished again, she went upstairs. Seconds later, two very loud female voices pierced the relative calm at The Burrow.
The only comment Harry could understand came from Mrs Weasley. “Ginny, what’s wrong? There are only three days until your brothers and Harry leave for Hogwarts, and you’re acting like a little witch.”
Minutes later the door slammed again and Molly Weasley stomped down the stairs.
“Don’t say anything, boys, or you will regret it. Just leave Ginevra alone. I still don’t have a clue what’s bothering that girl.”
Harry turned to Ron and mouthed ‘Ginevra?’
Ron nodded. “Everyone thinks Ginny is short for Virginia, but it’s actually based on Queen Guinevere.”
“King Arthur’s wife?” a stunned Harry asked.
“Right in one, except it’s the Italian version,” Ron answered.
Harry turned to Mrs Weasley, “Is there anything I can do?”
She smiled at the boy. “That’s very nice of you to offer, dear. Just be patient and give her the time and space she needs.” Mrs Weasley paused. “She may come to you when she’s ready. Thanks for your concern, Harry.” She squeezed his shoulder.
Harry turned back to Ron, who shrugged his shoulders. “Wanta fly some?”
“Sure.”
Several hours later, Ron and Harry returned to The Burrow to find the twins already sitting at the kitchen table and eating the sandwiches their mum had made. Ron quickly looked from their plates to the platter in the centre of the table. He didn’t relax until he had counted the seven sandwiches that still remained.
After washing their hands, Ron and Harry sat down, and Ron immediately grabbed three sandwiches off the platter. When Harry obviously bit back a snort, Ron laughed. “I’m a growing boy. What can I say?”
“You can only eat one at a time,” Harry teased. “Do you think they’ll run away from you in fear?”
George snickered. “Oh, dear, nave Harry, Ron is worried my brilliant twin and I will take several more sandwiches . . .”
“. . . even though we’ve already eaten two each,” George continued, “and we don’t have our younger brother’s bottomless pit for a stomach.”
At that moment, Ginny stalked silently into the kitchen, grabbed two sandwiches and an apple from the table, and returned to her room, her arrival upstairs punctuated by another slamming of her defenceless door.
The twins raised their eyebrows and shrugged. “You might as well learn it now, boys. There’s no understanding the female of the species.” Fred nodded sagely at George’s proclamation.
Harry turned to Ron. “I’m going upstairs and read.”
Ron shook his head. “You know, Harry, that’s what school is for.”
Fred continued, “This is summer, which means no school and no revising.”
“It’s obvious, Harry, you’ve been spending way too much time with our older brother . . .”
“George, I doubt if you want to finish that thought.” Mrs Weasley emerged from the laundry room, a predatory smile on her face. “It would be most beneficial to your grades, if some of Percy’s studiousness would rub off on you two.”
Fred put both hands on his heart. “You wound us, Mother Dear, with your unfounded accusations and innuendo.”
Their mum smiled in a manner eerily similar to Ron when he moved a chess piece and checkmated an opponent. “I would imagine anyone who can use unfounded accusations and innuendo in their everyday vocabulary should earn very high grades.” She smiled, pivoted, and walked back to the laundry room.
George turned to Fred. “She’s good. You do have to give her that.”
“Don’t tell her,” Fred stage whispered, “but she’s my role model.”
“I heard that,” their mum called out.
Laughing, Harry pushed away from the table and quietly went up the stairs, skipping over the third step from the top to make sure he wouldn’t get yelled at by the redhead in the room opposite his. He picked up the third year Transfiguration book, hoping to finish the three remaining chapters.
Harry’s revising was periodically interrupted by loud noises — including vocal rantings and the sounds of innocent articles being slammed against hard surfaces. After several hours, the room across the hall became quiet.
Hedwig stirred on her perch, and her head moved slowly from its position under her wing, where she had been sleeping since Harry began revising. Her movement caught Harry’s attention.
“Hi, girl. Did you have a good nap?”
Hedwig blinked her amber eyes several times, then lifted off the perch and landed gently on Harry’s outstretched arm.
“Something’s really bothering Ginny. You’re a girl.” Hedwig looked at the boy in a way that made him feel he had just stated something obvious. “What would upset her so much, but no one has a clue what it is?”
Hedwig continued staring at Harry with her unblinking eyes, while Harry scratched the top of her head between her ears. Now that he focused on the problem, possibilities began to run through Harry’s mind, until one burst into his consciousness like an exploding star.
“I know what’s bothering her,” he said excitedly, and Hedwig lightly nipped his fingers. “I need to talk with her.” Harry carefully rose from the bed, so he wouldn’t jostle the owl. He placed Hedwig on her perch and grabbed an owl treat. The owl leaned forward and nuzzled Harry’s cheek. “Thanks, Hedwig,” and he gave the treat to her.
Seconds later, Harry nervously stood in the landing between the two bedrooms, trying to work up the courage to knock on Ginny’s bedroom door. Finally, he tapped lightly on the door.
“Go away!” Ginny’s voice echoed throughout the hallway.
“Want to talk?” Harry asked quietly.
“No!” Her reply came at the same volume as the previous one.
“Would you like to go to the pond and not talk?”
“Go away!” Ginny’s voice caught slightly on the last syllable.
Suddenly, Harry knew what Ginny was going through.
“I’m going to miss you, too,” he said quietly.
Silence.
The door burst open, and Ginny launched herself at the startled boy, wrapping her arms around him and holding on as if her life was threatening to crash around her. She sobbed into his chest for long minutes.
Finally, the flood waned and turned into an occasional hiccough. The young girl looked at him with red-rimmed, moist eyes.
“You understand,” she whispered.
“Yeah. I feel the same way,” he said quietly, his arms still wrapped around the petite girl.
“Does it feel like everything’s changed and will never be the same again?” she asked.
“Like there’ll be a hole in my life . . .”
“. . . and a hole in my stomach,” she said.
He nodded. “And a headache that won’t go away.”
“That’s it,” she said wistfully. “What can we do?” Ginny’s voice sounded the youngest he’d heard since he had been at The Burrow.
Harry knew how to respond and fought to maintain a serious expression. “We need to run away.” His face remained unchanged.
Ginny looked at him, first in surprise, then with an increasing understanding. She stepped back and lightly smacked him on the shoulder.
“Prat!”
He grinned. “Yup.” His heart warmed when she mirrored his smile.
Grabbing his hand, Ginny said, “To the pond, Potter. I’ve got to get this out of my system. It’s driving me nuts.”
“Short trip,” he said under his breath.
Smack!
“I heard that!” She faked a scowl, then her expression turned serious. “Thanks, Harry.”
“That’s what friends are for, right?” He smiled and squeezed her hand.
She smiled back. “Best friends.”
They sped down the stairs, jumping loudly on the squeaky third step, and continued into the kitchen.
“We’re going to the pond,” Ginny informed her mum.
“Be back in a couple of hours, kids,” Mrs Weasley replied. As soon as Ginny turned her head, Mrs Weasley mouthed ‘Thanks’ to Harry.
He smiled and nodded his head.
“Oh, just a second,” Mrs Weasley called out, just before Harry and Ginny reached the back door. “Sun Charms.” They walked back and stood still as she cast the charm. “Now, you’re set.”
“Thanks, Mrs Weasley.”
“Thanks, Mum.”
Harry’s eyes moved from the vegetables to the herbs and finally the rose bushes, as Ginny and he walked through the garden.
“You know, I’d never seen fruit or vegetables or herbs actually growing before,” he said softly.
Ginny looked over in surprise, which quickly became understanding. “We’ve had a garden for as long as I can remember. Mum is amazing at growing things.”
Harry looked down the rows of tomatoes, cucumbers, carrots, and many other plantings. “She sure has a green thumb.”
“Huh?” Ginny looked at the boy like he was taking the mickey out of her. “A green thumb?”
Harry laughed. “It’s a Muggle term. It means a person is good at growing things.”
“Oh, that’s Mum alright.”
Harry tugged on Ginny’s hand to change the direction they were walking. She looked at him in confusion. “I thought we were going to the pond.”
“We are, but something caught my eye.”
A few seconds later, they were standing in front of the rose bushes. Harry leaned forward, cupping a scarlet-coloured rose with his free hand, and inhaling its fragrance. Ginny shook her head but she repeated the boy’s action.
“Aunt Petunia’s roses never smelled this good,” Harry said.
Ginny looked around and said in a low voice, “Mum uses, ah, fertilizer from . . . chickens on almost everything she grows.” The redhead smiled. “Seems to work.”
“Sure does, but I really don’t want to think about chicken, uh, fertilizer in the food we eat.”
Ginny laughed loudly. “Silly, boy. We wash the fruit and vegetables,” she gave him a sly look, “most of the time.”
Harry started staggering around. “I think I got an unwashed strawberry this morning,” and he bent over at the waist.
“Prat!” Ginny started moving towards Harry, with an unmistakable glint in her eyes.
Harry sprinted down the lane, then veered in the direction of the shed. He stopped suddenly in front of the locked double doors and turned to see Ginny skid to a stop less than an arm’s length from him.
“Is it okay to see what’s inside without your dad here?”
“Sure. It’s not like he’s hiding anything.”
Harry cast a silent ‘Alohomora’ and the lock sprung open.
Ginny grinned. “Handy skill you have there, Potter.” She threw the doors open wide to let the sunlight in, and the two kids entered the shed.
Harry looked around curiously. “Has your dad always been interested in Muggle things?”
Ginny’s eyes swept around the small room. “Always. He thinks it’s amazing that Muggles can invent things that do what we do with magic.”
Harry picked up a broken smoke detector. “I bet Fred and George get some of their abilities from your dad, the way he tinkers around with this stuff.”
Ginny gazed thoughtfully at Harry. “I never thought of that before.” She paused a few seconds. “It makes sense.” She started laughing. “But Dad isn’t as devious as the twins.”
“Nah.” Harry smiled mischievously. “They get that from your mum.”
Ginny stretched as tall as her petite frame allowed her. “You’re spot on, Mr Potter,” she said in a snooty tone. “We Weasley women are quite creative.”
Both kids started laughing, and Ginny grabbed Harry’s hand. “To the pond, Potter,” and pulled him out of the shed.
They ran down the path, until Harry dug his heels into the dirt when they came to the Quidditch pitch.
“Tonight?” he asked, his eyes bright.
“Do you want to?” she asked shyly.
“You bet! I had a great time last night,” Harry replied, a huge smile on his face.
Ginny lit up. “So did I. I’ll get you when I hear my parents go to bed.”
“Great! To the pond?”
“Finally,” Ginny answered in a melodramatic tone.
Harry’s fingers instinctively laced through hers, as they returned to the dirt path. They had taken only a few steps when the rhythmic sound of beating wings caused Harry and Ginny to turn around and smile. Seconds later, Hedwig landed on Harry’s shoulder. He stroked the feathers on her back several times, then turned to Ginny.
“Hedwig helped me figure out what was bothering you,” the boy said, wondering how Ginny would receive that bit of information.
Ginny’s face took on a superior expression. “Well, of course she did. Hedwig is a beautiful, intelligent female.” Ginny looked at the snowy owl. “Thanks for helping Harry figure it out.”
Both kids laughed, and Hedwig hooted several times.
As they approached the rise the led to the pond, Hedwig took off from Harry’s shoulder and circled over the pond, before settling on a tree branch on the far side of the pond.
As they approached the shoreline, Ginny suggested, “Let’s walk around the pond. We haven’t done that before.”
“Sounds like fun,” Harry replied, and they set off on the meandering path that encircled the pond.
The two children walked in silence, letting their senses fill with the sights, sounds, and smells from their special spot. Harry remembered the moist feeling in the air from the water in the pond, which was augmented by the more frequent showers that occurred as autumn approached. A few of the deciduous trees were showing the first signs of their leaves turning, as the change in the amount of sunlight started the process. Yet the greens and browns of the trees and shrubs continued to provide a complementary backdrop to the azure pool of water.
Harry breathed deeply, trying to imprint the scene on his memory and senses.
“I know what you were doing.” Ginny’s voice was as soft as the afternoon breeze that found its way through the trees and created ripples on the water’s surface.
Harry looked at his friend, not sure what she meant.
Ginny understood his confusion and continued. “You got me out of my bad mood, with your stops at the garden, smelling the roses, visiting the shed, wanting to fly again,” she squeezed his hand, “and not pushing me to talk once we got here.”
She stopped and took a deep breath. “Can we sit here?”
Harry nodded, and they found a flat spot next to the water.
“After the great time we had flying last night, your leaving . . . oh . . . I mean all of you leaving . . . became real. There’re only a few more days, then you’ll be gone for months.” Her voice became lower and softer. “It really got to me.”
She leaned into him, unable to hold back the emotions flooding her. Without thought, Harry put his arm around his friend and held her tightly. Ginny laid her head on his shoulder and let her tears fall.
Harry found himself in two places, with Ginny at their pond, but also in a memory of when he was five years old, and Sammi had told him she was moving away in just a few days’ time. The pain of that memory let him know what Ginny was going through. He pulled her closer. When her tears started to subside after many minutes, he whispered what he hoped were encouraging words.
“I’ll write every day.”
“You’ll learn all about Hogwarts.”
“You can write every day.”
“It’ll be like Hedwig is half yours.”
“Your brothers will write.” Ginny hiccoughed at that one.
“We’ll be home in December.”
Ginny’s breathing finally settled down, but Harry could feel that her energy level was still low.
“It will be the first time Ron won’t be at home with me.” Harry had to lean his head closer in order to hear her. “I’ll be alone for the first time. He’s always been here, so it wasn’t so bad when my other brothers left.”
Ginny turned so she was facing Harry and could look into his eyes. A shudder coursed through her body. “I’m going to miss you,” she whispered. “It’s just not fair.” Her voice took on a stronger tone. “We’ve just got to know each other, and you’re leaving.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “Ginny, do you . . .” he exhaled strongly and closed his eyes for a moment. “Do you think I’m going to forget about you?”
Her eyes grew wide and quickly filled with tears. She nodded her head rapidly several times, and the tears overflowed. Ginny leaned her head again on Harry’s shoulder and put her arms around him. He could feel the sobs wracking her body and held her more tightly, awkwardly patting her back occasionally. He whispered again.
“How could I forget you, Ginny? You’re my best friend.”
He knew the gnawing feeling of losing a friend. Just thinking of Sammi or Miss Rae still made his stomach hurt.
“You’re probably thinking I’ll go to Hogwarts and meet new people and be busy with all the classes and not have time for you.”
He could feel the tremors going through her body begin to slow down. Her breathing was no longer shallow gasps in between sobs.
“I know!” Harry’s mind raced faster than he could form his words. “I bet Percy would let you use his first year books or you could get them from one of the twins.”
Harry felt she was listening.
“You can learn along with us. We can discuss the lessons every day in all the classes and figure out the homework. I’ll tell you what the professors said and explain what they showed us. It’ll be just like you’d be in class with us, and you’ll be so far ahead of everyone else next year. How does that sound?”
Ginny raised her head off Harry’s shoulder. “You’d do that for me?”
He grinned. “Every day and twice on Sunday.”
She smiled, a faint smile, but one nonetheless. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?” Her voice had a bit more strength in it.
“Of course, I said it to make you feel better . . . but it’s the truth. Ginny, don’t you understand? I’m going to miss you, too. You’re my best friend. I wish you were going with us.”
He exhaled heavily.
Some of the light returned to Ginny’s waterlogged eyes. “You’d tell me about your classes and the professors and the other students and help me learn the subjects?” Her voice showed her increasing excitement.
“It’s the best way I can think of to keep together while we’re apart. Oh, and letters, of course.”
Ginny smiled, a warm, full smile this time. “Just because you’re going to teach me the subjects you’re learning doesn’t mean you can skip out on your letters, Potter. I’ll tell Hedwig to sit on your head until you give her a letter to bring back.”
Harry started laughing, deep, body shaking laughs that were soon joined by Ginny. Many minutes later they finally calmed down.
Ginny’s eyes locked on Harry’s. “Thank you.” She crushed him with her hug.
When she finally released him, Harry grinned at his friend. “You feeling better, Miss Weasley?”
She looked at him shrewdly. “I sure am. But I think you just talked me into doing school work without getting any credit for it.”
Harry started laughing again. “I did, didn’t I?” Ginny nodded her head emphatically. “I wish we could come up with some way we could talk long distance.”
Ginny looked puzzled. “You mean like with a Muggle Fellytone?”
“No.” Harry shook his head. “You don’t have a phone here, and I’m sure there are none at Hogwarts. No, I meant talking to each other, kind of direct.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“You mean like talking to each other through our thoughts?” Ginny looked at him sceptically.
“Sure. Whatever works.”
Ginny’s voice rose in pitch. “Harry, that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!” She lightly swatted his shoulder. “Imagine having someone in your head all the time! I don’t think so, Mr Potter. That would drive me nuts! And don’t you dare say it would be a short drive again.”
Harry started laughing and it increased when Ginny joined him. Finally, with their laughter and breathing back under control, Ginny suggested, “Shall we finish our walk around the pond, kind sir?”
Harry affected the same upper crust accent Ginny had used. “If that is my Lady’s wish.”
He stood up, bowed deeply, complete with flourishing arm movements, and held out his hand. Ginny took it with a bent wrist and allowed herself to be assisted, before dissolving into giggles. Harry waited patiently for Ginny to settle down, smiling at the girl’s laughter and the light that had returned in full force to her eyes.
The two best friends resumed their stroll around the pond, occasionally skipping flat stones across the smooth surface, mostly just enjoying one of the last days of summer and the comfort they found in each other’s company. When they approached the halfway point of the pond, Ginny pulled on Harry’s arm to stop him.
“Would you teach me wandless magic again?”
Harry saw the burning desire in her eyes. “Sure. We can start where we ended last time.”
He turned and Summoned several large leaves that had been lying on the ground, placing them in a line about a metre from the water. “I’ll levitate the first one, and you can hold my hand and shoulder again. Okay?”
Ginny nodded and placed her hands as before. Harry went through the process more slowly than usual so there would be a better chance for Ginny to feel the magical energy moving through him.
“One, two, three.”
Harry focused on the leaf on the far right of the line and slowly raised his hand, while silently thinking the words to the Levitation Spell. The leaf gradually rose, until Harry stopped the motion once it reached a height of about three metres. He let it float and looked at Ginny.
“I felt it.” A smile was already on her face. “I still feel a slight vibration in your hand.”
Harry returned her smile and brought his hand back down. “Your turn. Before starting, see if you can feel the magic flowing through you. Remember how it felt with me.”
Ginny nodded, already deep in concentration. “Try it on your own the first time,” Harry said in a calm voice, “whenever you’re ready.”
Ginny closed her eyes briefly, pointed her right hand at a leaf, and clearly said, ”Wingardium Leviosa.”
Nothing.
“Ahhh!” Ginny whirled on the spot, her eyes blazing. She quickly picked up a medium-sized stone and threw it as far as she could across the pond. It landed with a deep-throated “kerplunk” about a third of the way to the other shore.
“I didn’t feel anything. Why can’t I do this? I thought of everything you told me. I imagined my magic flowing, but nothing ever happens. Ahhrrgg! It’s so frustrating.” Ginny had been pacing back and forth during her tirade. Suddenly she stopped. “Why isn’t it working?”
Harry’s face scrunched up in thought. When he finally spoke, the words were soft and non-judgmental. “Both Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore said very few adult wizards and witches can do wandless magic. Maybe it’s just not something you can learn.”
Ginny had continued pacing back and forth, creating a depression in the sand. “Am I being a baby?”
“No. You’re frustrated,” Harry quickly replied. “I learned that way, because I didn’t know any better. You learned the normal way, so it may not be possible for you.” Ginny’s head jerked up. “Do you want to try with me holding your hand?”
Ginny smiled. “Thanks, Harry.”
Harry stood next to her, and they repeated the process. With his right hand resting on hers, he mirrored Ginny’s casting of the spell, except for thinking the words. This time, though he tried to will his magic into Ginny’s hand.
The leaf rose unsteadily and not very far. It quickly returned to the sand when Ginny turned to Harry, her eyes wild and alight. “Did I do that or was it you?”
“I don’t know. I was trying to have my magic flow through your hand. Did you feel anything?”
“Yes!” The answer burst from her lips.
“Do you want to try on your own again?”
Ginny was already facing the leaf with a gleam in her eyes. Within seconds of saying the incantation, the light was gone. She turned to Harry, the expression on her face a combination of huge disappointment and anger at not being able to do something she so desperately wanted.
“Merlin, this is frustrating.” Ginny threw her hands up in exasperation, a fierce expression on her face, while she continued to look towards Harry.
The leaf rose steadily in the air, but only Harry noticed. He bit back the words that wanted to rush out and retained a neutral expression. “Hold your hand where it is and look to your left.”
Ginny looked confused by Harry’s odd instructions but quickly complied. Seconds later, she was jumping up and down, and the leaf looked like it was on a roller coaster ride. Ginny started laughing and dramatically brought her arm down. The leaf shot back to earth.
The next thing Harry knew he was engulfed in a small tornado, as Ginny added hugs and dancing around to her jumping up and down.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Ginny squealed. “I can’t believe I did it.” She stopped in mid-twirl. “You taught me.” Ginny’s eyes were the most excited Harry had ever seen. “Merlin, Harry, you did it. You taught me. THANK YOU!”
Harry was soon beaming into a mass of red hair as Ginny launched herself at him and wrapped her arms around his back. When she finally released the boy, Ginny’s smile was so bright it seemed to be reflecting the sun’s rays. She stepped back, the smile still splitting her face, pointed her hand at the leaf, and said ”Wingardium Leviosa.”
Nothing happened.
Ginny and Harry shared the same perplexed reaction.
“What happened?” Ginny asked as if in a fog.
Harry continued to stare at the leaf and occasionally would glance at Ginny. “You were happy this last time, right?”
Ginny nodded. “Really happy.”
“Did you think through the process?” Harry’s eyes had narrowed in concentration.
“Uh huh, just like you told me,” Ginny confirmed.
“But you were angry and frustrated when it worked,” he stated.
Ginny’s eyes became round with understanding. “Ohhh, so I need to feel it, instead of think it. Is that right?”
Harry looked at her hopefully. “I’m pretty sure.” He became quiet again, until he began to voice his thoughts. “You’ve learned to do spells with your wand. That’s how your magic is used to working. Mine is used to not having a wand. So, you have to . . . force . . . your magic to work without your wand, so it’s harder . . .”
“And I need to use more power to do that,” Ginny added excitedly.
Harry’s head snapped up, and he looked at the girl. “So when your emotions were strong, you had enough power to force your magic to work without a wand.”
“Which is why it didn’t work when I tried to think my way through it.” Ginny punctuated her statement with a sharp nod of her head.
“Anyway, that’s what I think happened,” Harry said.
“Makes sense to me.” Ginny grinned at the boy. “So all you have to do is make me mad.”
Harry’s eyes lit up and he started moving away from the redhead. “Should be easy. You’re almost there already.” As soon as the last syllable was out of his mouth, Harry sprinted down the shore path.
“I am not a mad person, Harry Potter!” she yelled while running after the boy. “I am not a lunatic.”
Harry slowed down and turned around, holding his hands out in a stopping motion. “Okay, Weasley, you’re not a mad, raving lunatic.” She halted in front of him. “But it would help if you were.”
The two children grinned at each other and plopped down in the sand next to the water, comfortable in their proximity and easy silence. Again, Harry found himself trying to memorize everything about the pond, in case this was their last visit of the summer.
“Thanks for sharing the pond with me, Ginny,” Harry said lazily. “I love it here.”
Ginny glanced at him, a smile on her face. “I hoped you would like it. It’s my favourite place.”
Harry nodded. “You can just get away from everything and relax.”
“And learn magic.” Ginny started snickering when Harry snorted.
Within seconds, both kids were laughing full out. Once they calmed down, both laid back on the sand, letting the sun and fragrant breeze wash over them. Some time later, Ginny’s question cut through the shared reverie.
“Do you think we should get back to The Burrow?”
Harry had to shake his head to get his brain back into gear. “I guess. At least you told your mum where we were going, so she won’t be worried or anything.”
“Yeah, it only took one time forgetting to tell Mum where I went to learn it’s much better to tell her,” Ginny said.
“Chores?”
“A long list of the worst chores possible. I, uh, lost track of time and was gone for hours. I really didn’t think anything about it, but Mum went crackers. I heard about it — loudly — for the next week. It only takes one time to learn that lesson.” Ginny shook her head at the memory.
“Let’s go then,” Harry said. “I don’t want to do horrible chores.”
The two kids rousted themselves, shook off the lethargy the sun and the setting had created, and ambled down the path that bordered the remaining portion of their pond. Soon, hands met, fingers intertwined, and their return to The Burrow began, overseen by a white shadow that followed them home.
Three pairs of adult eyes greeted Ginny and Harry when they walked into the kitchen. Two belonged to the warm and familiar faces of Mr and Mrs Weasley. The third stopped Harry in his tracks, which stopped Ginny, because their hands were still linked. Ginny looked at the man curiously, as if she were searching her memory for a name or something she could use to identify the gaunt, serious-looking visitor.
Mr Weasley pushed back from the table where the three adults were sitting. “Harry, this is Remus Lupin, the friend of your parents who was obtaining pensieve memories of them. Remus, this is Harry Potter, and I’m sure you remember our daughter, Ginny.”
The children stayed rooted to the floor, due to the surprising intensity the man conveyed while staring at Harry. Harry could feel the old emotions returning.
Why didn’t he let us know he was coming over? There’s something . . . different about him. I’ll need to watch him closely. Why’s he staring like that?
He and Ginny exchanged a quick glance, and Ginny whispered so only he could hear. “Don’t worry about him. He is a friend of my parents, so we can trust him. Don’t let his clothing and appearance bother you.”
Harry nodded but stayed where they had first stopped.
Mr Lupin stood, causing Harry and Ginny to take a step backward. The man winced at their reaction. “Please excuse my staring at you, Harry. It really is poor manners on my part.” Harry’s mouth fell open at the man’s soft, well-modulated voice. “You’ve probably already heard this, so please excuse me resorting to clichs, but you look remarkably like James, err, your father . . . except for your eyes,” his voice grew even softer, “they look like your mother’s.”
For Harry, Remus Lupin’s oft-repaired, threadbare clothing faded away, as did the haunted look just behind his eyes and the somewhat long, brown hair that already showed signs of grey in it. Harry’s initial distrust of the man, already lessened by Ginny’s comment, moved further into the background.
“You were f . . . friends of my p . . . parents?” Harry was startled by how shaky his voice sounded.
Lupin smiled, and ten years seemed to disappear from his face. His eyes, which had been almost colourless, took on a grey-brown appearance when the light returned to them. “Oh yes. I was in your mother and father’s year at Hogwarts. We were all in Gryffindor together.” The man’s voice faded as he got caught up in his memories.
When he resumed speaking, his voice was stronger, though a little coarse, and the cadence was faster. “Well, that is what brings me here today. I will be unavoidably detained over the next several days and wanted to make sure you received the memory phials before school started. I hope my unexpected appearance has not created any problems.”
Molly quickly said, “Not at all, Remus John. You’re always welcome here.”
Harry and Ginny moved over to the chairs next to her mum and opposite Mr Lupin. Mr Weasley sat in his usual spot at the end of the table. A rather large bowl sat in front of them on the table, and Harry thought it looked like an ornate birdbath. A series of intricate carvings ran around the outside edge of the bowl.
He whispered to Ginny, “This must be the pensieve the memories are put in.”
“That’s right, Harry,” Mr Lupin said. Both kids glanced at each other, wondering how he could hear Harry’s soft whisper. “There are two primary ways to watch the memories we have captured. In the first method, the person enters the pensieve,” he gestured to the large bowl, “by touching the liquid form the memory takes inside the bowl. You are then pulled into the memory where you can listen to and observe everything that occurred, though you cannot interact with the people there.”
Lupin paused and looked at Ginny and Harry to make sure they understood. Harry nodded his head, as did Ginny. “We will be using the second method, since it would be awkward for all five of us to enter the pensieve together. In the second method, the scene is viewed on top of the pensieve, so we will both see and hear the people in the memory. The only caveat is not to touch the images. If you do so, the memory will stop. It won’t be lost, but it will disappear and would need to be restarted from the beginning.”
He looked around to see if there were any questions. When none were forthcoming, Lupin looked at Harry. “Arthur and Molly told me you have already seen pictures of your parents and a few other people.” He sighed. “Nevertheless, these images might be difficult for you, Harry. I have tried to select several memories that are representative and, ah, positive. You will hear your parents speaking, which may be the most difficult aspect of this. Whenever you want me to stop the memory, just tell me. Alright?”
Harry nodded, feeling a roller coaster careening through his stomach from anticipation and dread. I didn’t know I’d hear them talk. I wonder if it’s like what I hear in my dreams.
“This first memory is from James and Lily’s wedding. It’s just a portion of the entire event, but, well, I think you’ll like it.” He looked at the boy. “I hope you do.”
Lupin pulled a phial from box that looked like it held ten or twelve more of the glass containers. He poured the bright, whitish silver liquid into the bowl, where it took on the consistency of, Harry wasn’t sure, liquid light, a solid gas, he wasn’t sure. All thoughts about the liquid disappeared when Lupin stirred his wand above the contents and forms began to develop.
Harry’s mind went blank. His parents were standing in front of him, no more than half a metre from where he was seated. Harry’s eyes immediately went to the man who looked like an older version of himself, just as he had seen in the pictures the Weasleys had collected for him.
Harry winced as the bottom of his stomach seemed to drop, cold sweat beaded on his forehead and ran down his back. He vaguely felt Ginny’s hand squeezing his, trying to help him through this reaction.
James wore expensive looking robes whose black colour seemed to have an endless depth. They were detailed in red and gold threads that caught the light and reflected it in subtle ways. The man’s messy, black hair mirrored Harry’s but in three dimensions instead of the pictures’ slightly less revealing two.
Harry studied his father as if he were trying to determine if he would be like that man in a decade’s time, observing the man’s actions to see if they reminded the boy of himself, and taking joy in the obvious love his father showed for his mother. Harry smiled to himself, because he also felt a certain recklessness emanating from his father, a love of life that he hoped would be his at some point.
But it was the image of his mum that caused his breath to catch painfully in his chest, filling him with a longing that even the pictures hadn’t brought forth.
His mum wore beautiful floor-length, dark green wedding robes, with a narrow cape-like train of the same colour and length. Both pieces had the same red and gold detailing that his father’s robes had. The material looked like crushed velvet, and she wore a wreath of cream and gold baby roses in her hair. Harry already knew from the pictures, she had thick red hair and his emerald green eyes. But the pictures hadn’t done her justice. It wasn’t that she was pretty, which she was, but Harry felt something, something so strong he was mesmerized.
It’s like a connection. I can feel her inside me.
When the boy felt like his heart was going to burst, he yelled, “Stop!” and in a much softer voice, “Please.”
Ginny grabbed his hand and ran her thumb over his knuckles. The three adults looked at him in alarm.
“It’s okay.” He looked at the adults. “I’m okay. Mr Lupin, how well did you know my m . . . mum?”
Lupin sat back in his chair, a look of confusion and something else, not fear, but reticence maybe, dominated his face. “What do you mean, Harry?” he asked quietly.
Harry took a deep breath. “When I saw her, I felt something.” He shook his head. “Some kind of connection?”
Lupin smiled and it was obvious he was back with his friends in his memories. “Harry, I’m not surprised you felt a connection when you saw Lily, ah, that is, your mother. She had that ability to instantly relate to almost everyone. She seemed to find the good within people, even when that good was very hard to find. She was a special person. I think that’s what you’re feeling, especially since some of her is in you. Your choice of words was excellent. There is undoubtedly a connection between the two of you.”
Mr Weasley continued those thoughts. “Lad, Mrs Weasley and I were older than your parents. We, ah, didn’t travel in the same circles they did, especially James and his dear parents. We knew them through Professor Dumbledore. Once we met your parents, we were accepted as part of their extended family. That’s how we came to know you and how Ron and Ginny, for a very short time, would be invited over to your house to play.” Harry squeezed Ginny’s small hand. “Everyone felt comfortable with James and Lily Potter, but your mum especially.”
Mrs Weasley squeezed Harry’s arm. “If you have her qualities, you are a lucky young man, Harry. They will serve you well.” Molly Weasley looked carefully at the newest member of her family. “Seeing her or your father hasn’t upset you?”
Harry’s lips curved up in a closed-mouth smile. “No. It was just that feeling, that connection. It was so strong, and I’ve never felt that before, even with the pictures.” He looked around the table at each of the four people surrounding him. “Thanks for telling me about her.” He looked at Lupin. “Thank you for getting these memories for me. Could you start it again?”
Remus Lupin smiled. “It would be my pleasure, Harry.”
Repeating the movements of his wand, his parents’ former friend restarted the memory of James and Lily Evans Potter’s wedding. Harry watched in amazement as the love between his parents filled the kitchen, even though the figures were no taller than 30 centimetres. The wedding ceremony transitioned into a reception. In both segments, Harry saw several men repeatedly. He added the question of who they were to his growing list.
When the memory had been returned to the phial, Lupin turned back to the four other people sitting at the table. “Questions?”
Everyone looked at Harry. He couldn’t hold back a laugh. “I do have a few.” He could see each of them relax when he laughed, and soon they all had smiles on their faces.
“Go ahead, lad,” Mr Weasley encouraged.
“When were they married?”
“They were married in June of 1979.”
The question and answer session went on for almost an hour. Harry asked the last question. “There were several guys around my dad most of the time. I recognized you, but I don’t know the other two.”
Harry felt the room immediately grow cold and deathly still. His gaze moved to each of the adults, and he saw that they were looking at the table top. Their lack of comfort was palpable, though Mr Lupin also looked extremely angry, which shocked the boy since the man had seemed so mild mannered.
What had happened among those four men that would cause that type of reaction?
Harry glanced at Ginny and saw that she looked as puzzled as he did. She shrugged her shoulders.
Harry looked at his father’s former roommate. “Was that a bad question?”
“No, Harry, it was not a bad question. Please excuse our reaction, but the answer to it is very complicated, and I’m not sure I am the person to explain it to you. If you will be satisfied with a very simple and woefully incomplete answer, I can provide that to you, along with the assurances that you will be given the full story by the right person at the right time.”
Harry stared at the man’s thin face. After several seconds, he nodded his head. “What can you tell me?”
Lupin breathed deeply and issued a wan smile. “Thank you for agreeing with my wishes, Harry. The two other men also were classmates. In fact, they were roommates of your father and mine at Hogwarts.” Remus Lupin took a deep breath. “At one time, we were very close, even had nicknames - your father was called Prongs, I was Moony. The taller, black-haired man was named Sirius Black or Padfoot. Peter Pettigrew, Wormtail, was the other man.”
Standing unseen at the foot of the stairs, the twins’ eyes had widened to an impossible size. They turned to each other, nodded, and tip-toed up the stairs, skipping the squeaky third step from the top.
Peter Pettigrew. Sirius Black — huh, like the star Ginny told me about. Wait! Mr Lupin said ‘was’ for both of them. Are they dead? No wonder he didn’t want to talk about them. Is that why he looks so old for his age? He must only be about thirty.
“Thank you, Mr Lupin. Can we look at more memories sometime soon and talk some more?”
“You’re welcome, Harry. Yes, of course, I would very much like to talk with you again and look at the other memories. In the meantime, let me show you how to view the memories, so you can do that on your own. Professor Dumbledore told me you can return the pensieve to him when you arrive at Hogwarts in a few days.” He looked at Mr and Mrs Weasley. “Could you shrink it, so it will fit in Harry’s trunk?”
“We’d be happy to, Remus,” Mrs Weasley quickly agreed. “It’s an easy spell, Harry. We’ll show you how to both shrink an object and return it to its normal size.”
Remus couldn’t hide his surprise at Mrs Weasley’s comment to Harry. Seeing Remus’ reaction, Mr Weasley explained the reasons behind it. “Harry has taken very quickly to magic.” He looked to Harry. “We can trust Remus, but if you’re not comfortable, I’ll stop here.”
“If you trust him, I don’t have any worries,” Harry replied.
“Harry seems to have a natural talent for wandless and wordless magic.” Lupin’s mouth fell open and Mr Weasley smiled briefly at the unvarnished reaction from the normally taciturn wizard. “He also seems to be remarkably powerful and can learn new spells immediately. Minerva has been working with him in both areas and will continue training once school starts. Remus, the headmaster does not want Harry to use this magic at school, and he feels it is best kept away from the public’s awareness.” Mr Weasley’s expression had turned serious with the last statement.
Lupin nodded. “I understand the headmaster’s concerns. I won’t mention it to anyone. Harry, your apparent magical abilities shouldn’t be surprising to those of us who knew your parents. Among their many wonderful qualities, they were both very talented and powerful in their use of magic. I would be surprised if several of your professors don’t mention your mother’s talents in charms and potions, while your dad . . .” Remus smiled, “wasn’t as academically inclined, he was quite good at transfiguration and charms, plus several other areas.”
Remus shook his head slightly to shake himself out of those memories. “Would you like me to show you how to use the pensieve and both methods of watching the memories?”
Harry nodded his head eagerly and leaned toward the man.
After the pensieve processes had been explained, Harry looked at Ginny and whispered, “Should we ask about you?”
When Ginny nodded, Harry looked up to find Lupin already looking at him. He glanced at Mr and Mrs Weasley. “Um, I’ve sort of been teaching Ginny how to do wandless spells.” Harry’s eyes were glued to the table top, and he braced for the uproar from the Weasley and their friend.
There was only silence. When he looked up, he was greeted by three incredulous expressions.
Ginny started giggling.
A second later, she was joined by her mum, then her father. Harry relaxed and joined them, while Lupin looked between the Weasleys and Harry for an explanation.
Mr Weasley was the first to regain control. “See what we told you, Remus? Harry’s a natural.” His eyes moved over to Harry and Ginny. “Did you two want to explain about these lessons?”
Ginny spoke up first. “I asked Harry to teach me. On the first time we tried, nothing happened until he pushed his magic through my hand . . .”
Three “What’s!” interrupted Ginny’s explanation.
Harry took over. “Ginny tried to levitate a leaf, but it wasn’t working. I thought it would help if she could feel how my magic worked, so I had her hold on to my shoulder and hand when I cast the spell.”
“I could feel the magic move through his arm,” Ginny said. “It was like a vibration.”
Harry watched the reactions from all three adults. All seemed interested and not upset at all, so he continued describing the first lesson. Ginny took over when they moved to their experience just before arriving at the kitchen.
Ginny smiled. “I asked Harry again to teach me, and it went pretty much the same way as the first time. I got pretty frustrated, and, uh, was letting it out.” Her cheeks flushed with the admission.
“Ginny was throwing her arms around, and I saw the leaf rising from the ground . . .” Again, he was met with three shocked expressions. “I wasn’t doing anything. It was all Ginny. I asked her to keep her arm up and to look to her left.” The two kids started laughing. “Gin started jumping around, waving her arms, and the leaf was zooming all over the place. Finally, she brought it back to the ground.”
“But then, I tried it again and nothing happened.” The adults’ smiles turned to frowns. “Harry figured out what happened.” She turned to him with a smile.
“That’s what we wanted to talk about with you.” He looked at the three adults. “When Ginny was angry, she did wandless magic. But when she was happy, it didn’t work. I thought maybe when she thinks through the process,” Harry tapped his head, “instead of feeling it,” he patted his stomach, “it doesn’t work. It needs to work on emotions, using the magic, instead of thinking about it.” His face scrunched. “Does that make any sense?”
Mr Weasley spoke first. “Harry, it says a lot of good things that you would try to teach our daughter. That you could help her is, frankly, unbelievable. Very few mature witches and wizards can do wandless magic.”
Mrs Weasley smiled at the two children. “I was wondering what you two were getting up to at the pond. Ginny is quite powerful already, especially for her age. As we like to say, size is not indicative of power.” Ginny smiled at her mum.
Remus Lupin cleared his throat, and the other four people at the table turned their attention to him. “Over the years, I’ve done quite a bit of research into magic and spells. First of all, Harry, you seem to be a natural teacher. I doubt there are many professors who would have thought to show a student how their magic works or to ‘push’ it through the student as you described it. That approach seems to have jump-started Ginny’s latent wandless abilities.”
When Remus paused, Harry added another thought that they had forgotten to mention earlier. “We thought that since Ginny learned to do magic with a wand that’s what her magic was used to. When she tried to do wandless magic, she had to use more power, because she had to . . . overcome? . . . her magic being used to a wand. When she was mad, she automatically used more power.” Harry shrugged.
Ginny quickly added, “Harry didn’t even know wands existed until recently. Even though his magic was accidental, it was wandless. When he got here, it was natural for him to continue doing magic without a wand. Harry figured it was easy for him, because that’s what his magic was used to.”
Molly continued, “I almost lost control of some dishes I was levitating when he mimicked what I had done without anyone telling him how to do the spell. I contacted Minerva after that.”
Harry returned to their question. “Mr Lupin, do you think our idea of Ginny needing to use more power to change her magic makes any sense?”
Remus Lupin had been listening intently. “Harry, I can’t say with any certainty, but there appears to be a kernel of truth to your idea. Let me give you an example. There is a saying that the wand chooses the wizard,” he smiled at Ginny, “or witch. I know this to be true. That indicates that the ability to use magic is affected by what is channelling it.” He looked at the two children. “Please stop me if I start to confuse you. Harry, have you gotten your wand yet?”
“Yes. I went to Diagon Alley with Professor McGonagall a week or so ago and bought one at Ollivander’s.” Harry shuddered slightly at the thought of the mysterious old wizard.
“Did you find some wands were like sticks in your hand, no feeling at all?” Harry nodded. “But when your wand was placed in your hand, you could feel it almost vibrate?”
Harry nodded energetically at the memory. “It exploded with red and gold sparks.” Lupin smiled.
“I think the different reactions we see with wands may be similar to what you and Ginny are explaining regarding her wandless magic.” Remus’ voice became stronger. “This is a topic I would like to explore in more depth. I would like to involve both of you,” he looked at Mr and Mrs Weasley who nodded their approval. “If my theory is correct, we may be able to teach wandless magic to some witches and wizards — far more than we do now — and maybe most of them. I’m sure Professor Dumbledore would be interested in that type of research and creating a class should the theory be proven. Harry, your expression turned sour at the end. Did I say something that bothered you?”
Harry started at the man, catching what he thought was a brief reaction. “No, there are no problems, Mr Lupin.” Harry didn’t think the wizard would be interested in hearing his opinion of Dumbledore.
“I will be leaving, then. The next few days will be very busy for me. I will be talking with you about this project at some point in the near future.” The wizard’s voice moved from professorial to its usual soft tone. “Ginny, it’s nice to see you again.”
She smiled at the man. “Thanks for your help, sir.”
Remus looked at Harry and smiled. “Like Arthur and Molly, I held and played with you as a baby.” He shook his head. “You can imagine how exciting it is to see you again after all these years. I hope you enjoy the other memories, but please don’t try to go through them all at once. It may be a bit much. I’m very glad you are with the Weasleys now. I did know of your aunt and uncle.” Harry saw his parents’ friend literally pull himself out of the memories. “I will talk with you soon. We still have many other topics to discuss, as well as your wandless project.”
Remus Lupin got up from the table. “Molly, Arthur, thank you for not being upset by my unexpected arrival.” He nodded formally. “May I use your Floo?”
“Certainly, Remus. Take care of yourself,” Molly said. “Let us know if we can be of help in any of this.”
“Thanks for getting all the memories, Remus,” Mr Weasley said.
“Thanks for everything, Mr Lupin,” Harry added.
With a pinch of powder and the spoken location of his destination, Remus Lupin disappeared into the green flames.
Not long after Mr Weasley had visited Harry to talk about that day’s meeting with Remus Lupin and the memories of his parents, Ginny scratched softly on his door and let herself in. Harry was already walking towards the door with a smile on his face.
“Flying is going to be great tonight,” he enthused, in an excited whisper. “There are no clouds in the sky, so the moonlight is brilliant. We should be able to see forever when we get above the tree line.”
Ginny smiled and whispered back, “Someone is excited tonight.”
After Harry cast Silencing Charms on their feet, Ginny grabbed his hand, and they sneaked down the stairs, skipping over the step that Harry figured must have been loosened by the Weasley parents to provide another way of tracking the movements of their progeny. The two kids moved stealthily through the downstairs. Once outside, they raced to the shed, then to the paddock area, arriving breathless but grinning from ear to ear.
Harry and Ginny flew with more passion, pushing the Cleansweeps to their limits, as they sped around the open area defined by the orchard and the expanse of trees that bordered the property. Soaring vertically together, they levelled off well above the top of the tallest trees.
Ginny grinned. “The moon’s so bright you can see beyond the village. I’ve never been able to do that before.”
Harry swivelled on the broom so he could see in all directions. “It’s like you can see forever. There’s nothing like being on a broom.” He glanced at the redhead next to him. “Trust me?” he asked, holding out his hand
Ginny stared at it, a combination of determination and reticence combining on her face. “Wronski?”
“Only if you want to,” he replied, not wanting to pressure her.
“Yes,” she said strongly and grabbed his hand.
The two flyers manoeuvred their brooms so they were side-by-side. “On three?” Harry asked.
Ginny nodded, trying to muster all of her courage.
“One, two, three!”
They leaned forward simultaneously, hands clasped together, until they were pointing almost vertically towards the ground below. As they gained speed, the ground itself blurred, and Harry could feel Ginny’s grip on his hand tighten dramatically. A second later, a yell cut through the constant ‘whooshing” sound made by the air blowing past their ears.
“Ahhhh, Haaarrryyy!!!”
Harry’s pride in Ginny’s determination grew with each passing second. He knew she wasn’t comfortable yet, diving in the dark, but she continued to hang onto his hand, even though it was with increasing strength.
Harry estimated they were within several seconds of pulling out of the dive, when the pressure on his hand lessened. He immediately let go and saw Ginny pull up on the broom, which slowed her descent and brought her course to a more horizontal plane.
Immediately after noting Ginny’s actions, Harry pulled up on the broom, while moving his torso to a vertical position. The next sensation was the feel of grass grazing the bottoms of his trainers. A wide smile dominated his face, as he slowed down and slightly increased his height above the ground.
He found Ginny flying slowly above him and to his right, and he turned the broom so their paths would intersect.
“Ginny, you were incredible!” Harry enthused as soon as he got within hearing range of the redhead.
She looked at him suspiciously. “Are you having me on?”
“No.” He looked more carefully at her. “You dove a lot longer tonight. It was great. You’re almost there.”
The girl stared at the boy. “You aren’t teasing me, are you? But you do it perfectly every time.”
Harry closed the distance between them, so they were sitting side-by-side, nearly ten metres in the air. “Gin, you’ve taught yourself. You’re a natural. You fly better than your brothers. You’ll get it soon.”
“I fly better than my brothers?”
“Definitely. They know how to fly. You’re a flyer.”
Ginny’s brow furrowed. “But you haven’t flown on a broom in ten years.”
“I’ve heard enough stories already about how my dad and his friends sneaked behind my mum’s back and taught me to fly before I could walk.” Harry smiled at the memory. “I even have dreams of looping around people, doing dives, and I couldn’t have been much more than a year, right?”
Ginny nodded. “But that was years ago. How do you fly like this now?”
Harry’s demeanour turned serious. “It’s inside me, same as it’s inside you. Once it’s there, you never forget.” He grinned sheepishly. “Well, I guess you can forget, but you never stop being able to do it. The first time I got on a broom here, it was like I’d never stopped flying.” The grin became bigger. “It was a brilliant feeling.”
Ginny smiled. “And you’re a brilliant flyer.” She grabbed his hand, and they slowly flew towards their tree and settled on the ground just outside the spread of its branches. “Constellations, Mr Flyer?”
Harry began to laugh to himself. “Constellations . . . Star.” His soft chuckles got louder.
Ginny bumped his shoulder. “You’re so bad sometimes.” She lay down on the grass, noticing it was still warm from the day’s sunshine.
Harry lay down next to her. “Only sometimes? I’ll have to try harder.”
Ginny shook her head. “Find Sirius. See it?”
“Got it.”
“Follow my hand to the really bright star . . . there,” Ginny instructed. “That star is named Bellatrix or the ‘Amazon’ star because Bellatrix was a female warrior who was banished into the skies. The constellation surrounding the star,” she guided Harry’s hand around the outline of the constellation, “is called Orion . . .”
“Miss and Mr Weasley, Mr Potter, since there are just a few days remaining until the start of school, this was your last individual lesson from me.” Professor McGonagall allowed herself to relax and smiled at her students. “Each of you has put great effort into the lessons, and practiced on your own if I’m not mistaken. I am very pleased with your progress and hope you are, too.”
The witch gestured for the three students to sit down at the garden table, while she took a seat opposite them. “As much as I want to, I will not be able to continue with the defensive lessons with either of you, Mr. Weasley, Mr Potter.
“Miss Weasley, you should be especially proud of your accomplishments, because you have more than kept your own, even though you are a year younger than either your brother or Harry. It would be ideal if somehow,” the witch looked intently at Ron and Harry, “you were able to learn what is being taught to first years, so you can continue your outstanding progress.”
Harry glanced over at Ginny and smiled, since they already had that plan in place.
“Harry and Ron, I have to remind you that our relationship will be different at Hogwarts where we will be surrounded by many other students and professors. I cannot be as . . . familiar . . . as I have been here in this more informal environment, as that could be interpreted as favouritism.”
Ron looked at Harry, then back to the witch. “We understand, Professor McGonagall.”
“Thank you for your understanding, gentlemen. Having said that, please remember that my door is always open to you should the need arise. I do not know how Mr Potter will be received at Hogwarts, but it would be nave of us to think that his presence at Hogwarts will be ignored by the other students. Mr Weasley, even if you two are not in the same House, you will draw attention simply because Mr Potter stayed here for the past month. If you do end up in the same house and remain friends, the attention promises to be even greater.”
Assured that the two boys understood her concerns, the professor continued. “I do not want either of you to feel isolated, and I certainly do not want you to take any retaliatory action on your own. I am sure you understand what I am saying. My door is always open.” The professor grimaced but her usual expression quickly returned. “Of course, everything I’ve said applies to all of the other Heads of House should one or both of you be sorted into another House.”
Minerva McGonagall’s eyes bored into Harry’s. “I know you don’t like the idea of not using wandless magic at school.” The professor’s voice took on a much softer, understanding tone. “I know wandless casting is natural for you. I must ask that you accept the judgment of people who both have your best interests at heart and who have a deeper understanding of the wizarding world.”
Harry absently ran the heel of his hand over his suddenly moist forehead. Ginny moved her hand under the table and put it on top of Harry’s.
I don’t understand what the big deal is. Why can’t I use it? I don’t believe what Dumbledore told me. He just wants to continue making decisions for me. I just can’t figure out why. I really hope Professor McGonagall doesn’t feel that way.
“I will contact you once we reach Hogwarts, so we can set up a wandless training schedule. Is that satisfactory, Mr Potter?”
“Yes, Professor.” Harry’s head jerked back at the cold sound of his voice. He immediately cleared his throat, and repeated his answer in a softer tone. “Yes, of course, Professor. Thank you.”
Harry rubbed his stomach, hoping the waves rolling through it would calm down soon.
“Good.” She smiled at the three children. “Then, Harry, we have one last task before I leave.” When he looked confused, she continued. “Your trunk. Do you recall there are special wards we can cast on it? If you would show me the way, we can do that, and I’ll be on my way.”
“Oh . . . great!” Harry got up and led the professor, Ron, and Ginny inside. The two youngest Weasleys remained in the kitchen, while the professor and Harry continued up the stairs. It took less than ten minutes for Professor McGonagall to show Harry how to cast the protective charms on the trunk and the blood ward on the secret compartment.
After two drops of Harry’s blood fell onto the lock for the secret compartment while he said the password, McGonagall repaired the small cut on his finger.
“Harry, the spell I am going to show you is called Episkey. Point your wand — or finger — at the place that needs to be repaired or healed. The word is the same as the spell. It can heal broken bones and stop bleeding, as well as other repairs, so it is a useful spell to know.”
“Thank you, Professor.”
Minerva McGonagall gestured for her young pupil to sit on his bed. As Harry was doing that, she pulled the desk chair in front of him.
“Harry, I know the decision to restrict your wandless magic frustrates you.” Harry’s eyes widened immediately. “I also understand that you cannot begin to understand why that decision was made, since you are so new to the wizarding world.
“Harry, you will learn about our world — your world — and your place in it very quickly, beyond the academics that are taught at Hogwarts. I would like to ask a favour, though you have no reason to do so beyond my asking. Trust in the decisions that are being made and the people who are making them in your behalf. Allow me to be part of the process.”
Harry looked intently into the witch’s steel grey eyes. She’s a good person. I don’t sense anything negative in her.
“I trust you.”
“Thank you, Harry.” She smiled warmly at him and squeezed his shoulder. “Do you have any questions?” The professor had returned to her brisk, formal approach.
“No, Professor. Thanks for everything you’ve done. It . . . ah . . . it’s helped a lot.” Harry ducked his head.
McGonagall’s hand returned to Harry’s shoulder before she could stop it. “I do try, Mr Potter.” The professor eyes gleamed. “After all, it must be a good day when you don’t knock me out with one of your spells.”
Harry tried mightily but he couldn’t hold back a snort at his teacher’s comment.
After walking Professor McGonagall downstairs so she could Floo back to Hogwarts, Harry returned to his room, intent on finishing the third year Transfiguration text for the third time before they left for school.
Ginny, Ron, and the twins were waiting for Harry when he returned. Harry immediately became concerned when he saw that the twins’ eyes were sparkling even more mischievously than usual.
“Uh, hi, guys. What’re you doing in here?” Harry tried to act nonchalant, but he was ready to leave the room at top speed if he suspected a prank was being set up. He remained standing by the doorway.
George exaggeratedly rubbed his eyes of his non-existent tears. “Our new brother doesn’t trust us.”
“The pain in my heart is unbearable,” Fred continued dramatically.
Ron shook his head. “No wonder Harry thinks you’re up to something. I know you’re not, and I still don’t trust you.”
Ginny gestured to Harry to join them. “You’re going to love this. They know if they mess around, they’ll have me to worry about.”
The twins shifted nervously, then started laughing.
Harry pulled out the desk chair Professor McGonagall had been sitting on and looked from George to Fred and back again. “What am I going to love?”
George started off. “A fortuitous intersection of unrelated events has brought about this propitious occasion.”
Fred shook his head. “What my verbose alter ego is trying to say, we were coming downstairs when Remus Lupin was discussing some of the wizards in the pensieve memory.”
Harry leaned forward.
“The names we heard him say . . .” George said.
Fred interrupted, “The nicknames he said . . .”
“. . . caught our ears. They were familiar to us.”
George smiled. “Since we, uh, obtained an artefact of their making, we have been continuously grateful to . . .”
“Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, who have played a major role in our success.”
The twins chorused the final line, “Harry, may we present you with the Marauder’s Map.” With a flourish, they presented an old, folded piece of parchment to the confused boy.
Harry stared at the gift for several seconds, then looked uncertainly at the twins. “Uh, thanks?”
“Oh.” Fred smiled. “A few details may be helpful. Open up the parchment, Harrikins.”
“Most wizards will require a wand. You probably don’t need one, Oh Mighty One.”
“Tap the wand on the parchment,” Fred instructed, “and say ‘I solemnly swear I am up to no good.’”
Ginny chimed in. “They’re telling the truth. They showed Ron and me before you came back.”
Harry did as instructed, save for eliminating the wand. After repeating the pass phrase, lines immediately appeared on the parchment, including the name of the artefact, The Marauder’s Map and its creators, Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and . . . Prongs.
Harry sunk back in the chair. “My father made this.” He stared at the highly detailed map as if it were the most precious gift in the world. “This is incredible. Thanks, guys.” Harry’s brow furrowed, and he stared at the twins. “How did you two get this?”
“Boring story,” George scoffed.
“Not relevant,” Fred dismissed. “What is relevant is that it shows every student in the school and every professor. See?” Fred pointed to one of the towers. “There’s Professor Dumbledore.”
“Of equal value,” George said, “are the seven secret passages out of the castle and into Hogwarts. The tunnels for these,” he pointed them out, “have either collapsed or Filch, the castle’s caretaker, knows about them.”
Fred pointed out several other tunnels, including one below the weirdly name Whomping Willow. “These are open and Filch knows nothing about them.”
The twins’ expressions became serious. Fred explained, “When we heard that your dad and his mates created this masterpiece, we knew we could no longer retain ownership of the Map.”
George smiled. “At least now we know why you’re so powerful, Harry. This is brilliant work. We haven’t come close to figuring out how they charmed the parchment to show everything it does. Just recreating the castle must have taken years.”
“We also figured the Map will come in handy when you need to get around the castle and don’t want to worry about running into anyone,” Fred added.
George leaned closer to Harry and lowered his voice. “We doubt the faculty would look kindly on a student possessing such a useful tool.”
“It also would be wise to keep its existence secret from your fellow students,” Fred cautioned.
“And in either case, if someone is close to seeing it, ‘Mischief managed’ erases all of the lines . . .”
“. . . leaving just an innocent blank piece of parchment in your hands.”
Harry thought ‘mischief managed,’ and the lines quickly disappeared, leaving the parchment blank. “I guess it’s best to erase the map, whenever you’re through with it.”
“Right in one, Harry,” George said. “While it breaks our hearts to part with the Map, you are its rightful heir.”
“And we figure you’ll need it more than we do,” Fred added.
“Thanks, George, Fred.” Harry’s eyes gained a mischievous light. “I’m sure there will be times when you’ll want to borrow the Map.” They looked hopeful. “I’ll remember what you’ve done today and be happy to lend it to you . . . for an appropriate price.” Harry smiled and raised his eyebrows.
Fred gasped, “What have we created here?”
“It’s a monster, I tell you.” George’s eyes grew wild and he backed away from Harry.
He grinned at the two boys. “Thanks. This means a lot to me, especially that you’d give it up when it’s played a role in your success.”
“Are all of you upstairs?” Mrs Weasley’s voice startled the five kids.
George shouted back. “If you’re referring to Fred and me, Ron, Harry, and Ginny, then yes we are.”
“Let’s get a move on. We’re going to Diagon Alley for your school supplies.”
The group clattered down the stairs and gathered in front of the sitting room fireplace. Mrs Weasley barked out orders. “From the Leaky Cauldron, we’ll go straight to Gringotts — no lollygagging.”
George whispered to Fred, “Who’s Lolly and why would we gag her?”
Mrs Weasley froze the twins with a glare. “Harry, I understand you have an appointment at the bank. Arthur and Ginny will accompany you, as you requested. The rest of us,” her eyes raked the remaining family members, “will buy school supplies and robes. We will meet for lunch at 12:30 at the Leaky Cauldron. From there, we will finish our shopping, Arthur will provide supervision while Ginny picks out a new wardrobe for Harry.”
Harry tried to disappear through the floorboards, while the assembled Weasley clan whistled, hooted, and applauded the announcement of the replacement of Harry’s current wardrobe. Mr Weasley moved over to Harry’s side and ruffled his hair.
“Welcome to the family, son. Molly’s been looking forward to saying that for at least a week now.”
Harry looked at the matriarch and was pulled in by her warm smile. “Welcome, Harry,” she said.
Chapter 20: Flying
Author's Notes: As promised, this is the “second half” of Chapter 19 and the last chapter at the Weasleys’.
In the next chapter, we’re off to Hogwarts. Who will be on the train with Harry? Will Harry even be on the Express? Good questions. I hope you don’t expect me to answer them here.
The AU designation continues to be applicable: Griphook, one of Gringotts’ goblins, is a good guy here, as is Ragnok – no double crosses or shifty swords. I also provided some background information on the Potter family, which, to my knowledge, I made up, though somewhat similar histories and assets will be found in other stories.
An extra special thanks goes to cwarbeck, who not only did her usual brilliant beta work on the monster chapter I sent her (Chapters 19 and 20), but did the work while on vacation! Another amazing job by an amazing woman. Thanks, cel!
Likewise, a tip of the hat to Peter/MyGinevra, who let me play with a word he made up in his fabulous The Hogs Head. For those of you who are reading the story (and you all should be), I think you’ll recognize the word, even though the spelling has been changed. Yes, this note was briefly found - and incorrectly so - in the A/N for Chapter 19. I've since eliminated it from the Ch 19 notes. Thanks go to Collinda, whose comment prompted me to check.
As Harry waited in line to Floo to the Leaky Cauldron, he went over his Floo ‘to do’ list. Elbows in, eyes closed until I slow down, look up when I’m ejected in order to keep my balance, have my arms out in case I stumble, quickly move out of the way so the next person doesn’t crash into me.
Harry followed Ron once the fire cleared. With a green flame, he was on his way. Opening his eyes at the last second, Harry saw himself stumbling out of control towards an empty table directly across from the fireplace. His tirade at whoever would place a table in that spot was abruptly ended when two hands grabbed him and brought him to a mostly vertical stop.
Ron grinned. “I guess that’s better than last time, eh Harry?”
The boy started laughing, as Ron pulled him to the side of the Floo landing zone. “Any arrival when I’m even halfway standing is good.”
In another minute, the family was assembled and moving out to the courtyard entrance to Diagon Alley. When the arch opened, Harry turned to Ginny.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever get tired of that first glimpse into the Alley.” Harry looked around with a growing smile on his face. “I never could have thought up a place like this when I lived with my relatives.”
Ginny smiled and laced her fingers through his. “This is your world now, Harry, not that other place.”
“Quite an improvement,” he agreed.
Entering Gringotts, the group walked over to the shortest line. The Weasleys needed to withdraw money for the school supplies, while Harry needed to retrieve funds for general expenses, since he had already purchased his school supplies and robes. His second reason for being there wasn’t as clearly defined. All he knew was that Griphook, the goblin in charge of his account, had suggested they meet again before school started.
“Mr Potter, welcome to Gringotts Wizarding Bank,” Griphook nodded his head at the young boy. In a much quieter voice, he added, “There is no need for you to wait in line. Follow me, please.”
Harry looked at Mr Weasley and Ginny, shrugged his shoulders, and followed the goblin. “How are you today, Griphook?”
The goblin stopped, after he turned to answer Harry. “May I enquire into who these other two people are?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. This is Mr Weasley, my, ah, new guardian, and his daughter, Ginny Weasley.”
Harry turned to the two Weasley family members, who looked decidedly uncomfortable. “This is Griphook, who manages my account here.”
Mr Weasley extended his hand towards the goblin, who glanced quickly at Harry. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Griphook.”
The account manager nodded his head a fraction. “Mr Weasley.” He shook the wizard’s hand. “Miss Weasley.”
After the introductions, Griphook quickly proceeded through a pair of steel doors that were guarded by two of the largest goblins Harry had yet seen at the bank. After two more turns, the group entered a moderately sized office panelled in golden brown stained oak.
Griphook immediately moved to the far side of a small conference table. Harry sat directly opposite him, with Mr Weasley and Ginny on either side of him. Griphook picked up a thick manila folder from a stack of five or six similarly sized folders.
“Mr Potter, I would like to make my intentions clear so there are no misunderstandings concerning what I had intended to discuss with you this morning.”
He looked pointedly at Mr Weasley, and Harry finally understood the reason behind Griphook’s cool attitude. “Griphook, thank you for protecting my family’s accounts. I should have let you know that Mr Weasley and Ginny were going to come with me. I apologize for not thinking of doing that.” Griphook arched an eyebrow but remained silent. “I trust both Mr Weasley and Ginny completely. Anything you want to say to me, you can say in front of them.”
Harry hoped he hadn’t insulted anyone as he waited for Griphook to reply. The goblin stared impassively at Harry for several seconds. Finally, he smiled, revealing a set of sharp teeth. “Mr Potter, I am continuously surprised by you. That is exactly what my concerns were. Mr Weasley is not well known to us, though we are aware of nothing negative pertaining to him or his family. Since your situation with our bank calls for discretion in all dealings, I am pleased that you were able to understand my concerns and alleviate them. Mr Weasley, I hope you understand my actions now.”
Harry looked closely at Mr Weasley and was pleased to see that the man did not appear to be angry or insulted.
“I do understand, Griphook, and I am pleased that you are protecting Harry’s interests. My family has always been treated professionally by your staff, despite being in a different bracket than Harry and his family. I hope our relationship can grow. As you seem to know already, Albus Dumbledore moved Harry into our care at the start of this summer, after he witnessed the, ah, situation at his relatives’ house. We consider Harry a part of our family now, but our interest is in Harry, not his accounts with you.”
Griphook nodded. “Good. Mr Potter, may I assume that I or any other member of the bank’s staff can speak frankly in front of Mr and Miss Weasley?”
“Yes, you can, Griphook.”
The manager turned and pressed a button that sat behind the stack of folders by the goblin. A hidden door in a side wall opened and an older goblin walked in. Harry immediately knew he was a superior to Griphook, who had immediately stood when the senior goblin had entered.
“Mr Potter, Mr and Miss Weasley, may I introduce the Director of Gringotts’ London Branch, Ragnok.”
All three had risen while Griphook made the introductions.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Director Ragnok,” Harry said, again hoping he had used the correct title. He shook the goblin’s hand.
“Just Ragnok is fine, Mr Potter. I have been looking forward to meeting you. It is not often we have circumstances like yours, so I wanted to make sure you were aware of everything within and affecting your accounts.”
“Thank you, Ragnok. This is all new to me . . .” the Director nodded, making further explanation unnecessary.
Ragnok turned to Mr Weasley. “As Griphook told you, we are aware your family is a minor account holder in the bank. The second you walked into the bank with Mr Potter we began a more in-depth investigation on you and your family. We have found nothing negative. Indeed, we have nothing but good reports concerning you. I’m sure you will find that a relief.”
Mr Weasley turned to Harry, who was staring at the goblin. “It’s alright, lad. The Director didn’t mean to be insulting.” The wizard smiled coldly at the Director. “There’s nothing to be relieved about. I already knew you would find nothing negative on anyone in my family. I am pleased, though, that you seem to have Harry’s interests in mind the same as my family and I do.”
He shook the goblin’s hand, while Ragnok said, “Then, we should be able to work together in Mr Potter’s behalf.”
Ragnok sat down in a leather chair at the head of the table. “We have much to discuss today, Mr Potter . . . Mr Weasley. Shall we start?”
When the Director first began to speak, after he and Mr Weasley had established their positions regarding Harry, the boy hoped to find out why he was being treated in such a special fashion by the goblins and Dumbledore, too, for that matter. Ragnok’s revelations went beyond anything he could have imagined.
“Mr Potter, your family is one of the oldest in wizarding England. The fact that your family vault is Number 7 shows that they were one of the first families to bank at Gringotts and one of our largest depositors.” Ragnok’s eyebrows rose slightly at Harry’s obvious look of surprise.
Ragnok continued his story of the Potters’ fortunes. “Through the centuries, the Potter family used their political and economic capital for the side of the Light. They were active in the Wizengamot, backed people in the Ministry who shared similar goals, and occasionally took office themselves. Of course, during this time, they were considered among the elite in wizarding society, and many of your family members created or financed a surprising number of highly successful businesses and other enterprises.
“Unfortunately, at least partially due to the family’s prominence, many of your family were killed by Dark Lords and their sycophants. You are the sole remaining member of the House of Potter, I’m afraid . . .”
After less than half an hour, Harry’s head was reeling, and Mr Weasley’s complexion had changed from its usual freckled cream-colour to a hot-house pink.
“I take it you were unaware of your family’s history and financial position, Mr Potter,” Ragnok observed. “Perhaps you would be best served today if we provided an overview of your financial situation, what assets have accrued to you, and what we could do for you going forward.” He turned to Mr Weasley. “Do you agree that is the best course of action at this point?”
Mr Weasley acknowledged Ragnok’s question with a nod. He took several calming breaths before responding. When he finally began to speak, it was to Harry, not Ragnok. “Lad, how are you feeling? This must be as shocking as when you learned you were a wizard and your place in the wizarding world.”
Ginny leaned close to Harry and whispered, “You’ll get through this, too, Harry. That’s why Dad and I are here today. We’re here to help you.” She laughed softly. “When we get home, you can destroy Dumbledore — rocks, leaves, whatever you want.”
Harry smiled faintly at his friend, while he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away the moisture that had accumulated on his forehead. “I didn’t know any of this.” He looked from Ginny to Mr Weasley and finally Ragnok. “How much has Dumbledore kept from me? What else don’t I know?” He paused and took a deep breath. “I’m fine. Ragnok, I need to know everything you can tell me.”
The goblin looked shrewdly at Harry. “If you wish me to proceed,” Harry nodded empathically, “then I will bring only the most salient points to your attention so you can gain a clear overview of your current situation. Let’s dispense with political currency first. Your family has a hereditary seat on the Wizengamot, which is yours to fill when you reach the age of majority, that is, seventeen years old . . .”
Harry interrupted. “Does the seat remain unfilled until that time?”
“Yes and no,” Ragnok answered. “Yes, in that you are not permitted to take your family seat. No, because you are allowed by wizarding law to select an adult to act as your proxy. It is a matter of simple paperwork, which one of our many lawyers can easily handle for you.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Is this law well known?”
A cold smile appeared on Ragnok’s face. “It certainly is a law the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot would know.”
The harsh sound of air being involuntarily sucked in caused Harry to look at Mr Weasley in concern. The man’s face flushed, and he coughed lightly to remove the obstruction.
“Excuse me, Harry. Do you know who the Chief Warlock is?” the Weasley patriarch asked.
Harry’s eyes turned cold. “Dumbledore. I read it on his Chocolate Frog card.”
Griphook looked at Ragnok, who gave an imperceptive nod of his head. “Mr Potter, some families that have hereditary chairs in the Wizengamot have utilized proxies as a means of keeping informed of the proceedings and what the positions are of the other members. It can be a source of valuable information and even a tool of influence.”
Harry tilted his head towards the goblin. “Thank you, Griphook.” He turned to Mr Weasley. “That would make it harder for Dumbledore to hide some things from me.”
“Mr Potter,” Ragnok began, but Harry interrupted him politely.
“May I ask a favour?”
Ragnok nodded.
“Please call me Harry.”
Ragnok smiled. “I shall do that. Goblins customarily address a client using their last name. Only when permission is granted will we use the more informal given name. Now, if you would like, I can provide a summary of your current financial position.”
“Since I wasn’t aware I had a family vault,” Harry said in a cold voice, “I would like to find out if there are other accounts I haven’t been told about.”
“Since times were uncertain when your parents wrote their last will,” Harry briefly closed his eyes and Ginny traced her thumb over his hand, “they included a provision that required us to turn their investments in a timely fashion into savings accounts.” Ragnok looked at Harry. “They let us sell the investments so we could maximize profits. It took several years to accomplish their goals, but your account benefited by our timing on the sales.” Ragnok’s voice became the surprisingly soft, something Harry would not have expected from the goblin. “Your parents didn’t want the responsibility of managing to fall to you or a guardian not of your choosing. They wanted to ensure that the principal balance would remain intact. Griphook?”
The account manager bared his teeth at Harry in that predatory smile some goblins used when they talked about investments, profits, and maximizing returns. “The funds from the sales of your financial assets were invested into savings accounts around the magical world in order to obtain the highest returns at the lowest acceptable risk. When you reach your seventeenth birthday, you can direct us to invest your funds more aggressively if you wish. Until then, your investments must remain in interest bearing accounts for your protection as a minor as required by law.”
Griphook placed a piece of parchment in front of Harry, which contained row after row of numbers; both Mr Weasley and Ginny quickly moved their eyes away from the statement. “As you can see, despite the conservative approach we were legally required to follow, your principal has continued to outpace inflation, and in fact, achieve a more than reasonable rate of growth.”
Even though Harry was dazed by this financial discussion and all the new terms, he still felt he understood the basics. “So, I’m better off now because of you?”
Both Griphook and Ragnok looked at the boy in surprise. Ragnok’s expression was the first to change. “It will be a pleasure working with you, Harry. You seem to have an innate understanding of the financial world, something most wizards do not have. Both Griphook and I are at your service, young sir.”
“Ragnok, Griphook, thank you for watching over my family’s account, especially since I didn’t even know it existed.” A sour look briefly flashed across Harry’s face. “I hope I can continue to learn from you.”
“I’m sure you will, Harry,” Ragnok said. “Now, if you like, Griphook will show you to your family vault. If you want Mr and Miss Weasley to be able to enter the vault without experiencing severe consequences, you need to state clearly when you stand at the door that ‘I, Harry James Potter, permit Arthur Weasley and Ginevra Molly Weasley,’” Ginny gasped and immediately blushed, “‘access to the Potter Family vault.’ If you wish to restrict them to only one time period or the first room, for example — there are three rooms altogether — then you need to specify that when you grant permission. Griphook will be there to assist you.”
Ragnok stood up and Griphook shot to his feet seconds later. “Harry, do you have any other questions or requests?”
Harry stood up, followed by Arthur and Ginny. “No, sir. Thank you for everything.”
Ragnok turned to Mr Weasley. “Are you satisfied, Mr Weasley?”
Mr Weasley stretched to his full height. “You’ve done an exemplary job on Harry’s account. Thank you on behalf of his parents.”
Ragnok bowed to Harry and Mr Weasley. “I look forward to many profitable years working with both of you. Unless there is any other service I can provide today, I will have Griphook take you to the vault now.”
Both Harry and Mr Weasley shook their head. After shaking hands with both wizards, the Director left through the same side door he had entered at the start of the meeting.
“Shall we go to the cart now?” Griphook inquired.
“Definitely,” Harry said.
A minute later they were careening through the winding catacombs well below Gringotts and wizarding London. Squeals and laughter punctuated their journey, as the cart traversed the network of dimly lit tunnels that held the magical vaults. Harry knew this was the longest trip he had taken on a Gringotts’ cart and thought it also was true for the Weasleys. Solely from the angle of the cart, he knew they were descending, and while not quite the same as flying, the ride was exhilarating and somehow liberating.
That is, until they squealed around a blind corner on two wheels, and he froze at the sight of several enormous and definitely live dragons.
Ginny gasped and moved closer to Harry.
Mr Weasley muttered, “Merlin save us,” and Harry saw him reach for his wand.
Unfortunately, the cart decided to slow down to the speed of a baby just learning to crawl at the same time the dragons came into view.
Harry looked at Ginny, who had turned white as pure marble and was just as unmoving. Her eyes were wide and unbelieving as she desperately tried to deny the reality of dozens of tonnes of amber-eyed, fire snorting dragons that were watching the occupants of the cart as if they were the main course in their next meal.
The cart ground to a halt directly in front of the dragons and not more than fifty metres from the end of the tracks. Harry looked around and confirmed that they were on the lowest level of the catacombs.
“Griphook, why are there dragons here?” Harry asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking.
“They are part of the defence system Gringotts employs to ensure the complete security of every vault in the bank. There has never been a successful robbery in all the years Gringotts of London has been operating. Since the vaults on this level are reserved for our largest depositors, we have gone to the extra lengths of using dragons to safeguard our clients’ assets.” Griphook’s friendly smile turned predatory. “The dragons are always kept a bit underfed.”
He exited the cart and held out his hand to assist Ginny. When the petite redhead hadn’t moved in several seconds, Harry nudged her shoulder.
“We can get out now, Ginny.”
Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing as first Ginny, then her father, stepped from the cart but kept their eyes glued on the dragons the entire time. They quickly joined Griphook and Harry in front of vault number seven.
“There is no key for the vaults on this level. To open yours, simply place your hand on your family crest. It will recognize you or anyone you have authorized.”
“What happens if someone unauthorized tries to get in?” Harry wondered.
Griphook’s eyes lit up. “They are automatically transported to a room carved out of solid granite, stunned, bound, silenced, and stripped of all clothing and possessions.” He grinned maliciously. “We check the room every couple of days.”
Harry and the two Weasleys shuddered involuntarily at the thought.
“Now, if you will place your hand on the crest, we can proceed.”
Harry complied and the solid granite door swung open silently. He peered intently into the vault, but it remained obscured.
“An Obscuring Charm eliminates anyone, including the account holder and authorized guests, from seeing into the vault until they have actually entered it. That eliminates any concerns about people with wandering eyes. Even with the door open, anyone lacking proper authorization who tried to gain entrance would find themselves in that same inescapable room I just mentioned.
“Would you like to authorize your guests now?”
“Yes.” Harry turned towards the open space. “I, Harry James Potter, permit Arthur Weasley and Ginevra Molly Weasley access to all three rooms of the Potter Family vault.”
The Obscuring Charm pulsed with a blue light, but remained impenetrable to anyone trying to look into the vault.
“You may enter now,” advised Griphook.
Mr Weasley and Ginny looked expectantly at Harry. Mr Weasley said, “Harry, why don’t you look around, then let us know when you want us to join you.”
“Now.” He smiled and reached out both hands to Ginny and her father. “I want you to be there with me.”
They grasped his hands, and the small boy led them into the Potter Family vault, now solely his vault. Two steps into the now visible interior, the trio stopped, eyes dancing in every direction, and their mouths hanging open. Since Harry had just learned of the existence of a family vault, he had not had time to picture what it would look like. Even if he had been given a week, he knew he would not have been able to envision anything like what was in front of him.
The front room looked like a very comfortable sitting room or study, except that the ceiling was close to five metres high. To his left sat a large, cushy hunter green sofa, with burgundy leather easy chairs flanking it, and an intricately carved table with a travertine top in front of the sofa. Mahogany curio cabinets, filled with a wide array of artefacts, and tall, densely packed bookcases took up most of the wall space in the room. Despite being carved from granite, the walls seemed polished and somehow warm and cosy despite the scale of the room. Harry noticed an interesting looking box that appeared to be made from a number of interlocking wooden pieces sitting in the middle of the table. Wall sconces were distributed around the room and provided a warm, unobtrusive light.
Arthur moved over to the nearest display cabinet and began to inspect the contents, while Harry and Ginny, still holding hands, drifted over to a bookcase.
“This looks interesting,” Harry said. “Offensive Spells, Charms, and Hexes Moste Powerful.”
“It looks really old,” Ginny said, peering closely at the book cover and pages. “Can you find the date it was published inside?”
Harry quickly but gently turned several pages. “Here we go. It was published in 1776. I wonder if anything interesting happened that year.” He turned to Griphook, who had entered the vault. “Can I take anything home?”
“This is all yours now,” Griphook reminded the boy. “Let me know if you plan to take many items or any of the larger pieces, and I will arrange for transportation.”
“Thanks,” Harry said, “but I’ll probably just take back a few books.”
Ginny tapped his shoulder with another book, Cunning Charms. “I was looking at some of the charms. They’re wicked.” She handed the book to him.
Harry returned her grin and put the two books on the table. “Let’s check out the next room.”
The middle room was much larger and functioned like a storeroom. “Looks like there’s stuff from hundreds of years ago,” Harry said, almost to himself.
Wandering around the room, he saw many Muggle-like weapons, which reminded him of the drawings he had seen in the King Arthur books he had read. Paintings covered much of the available wall space and many others were stacked up against the walls in several spots. Decorative items, such as vases, blown glass objects, silver serving pieces, wood carvings, metal sculptures, and statues, were scattered haphazardly on tables, shelves, and the floor, along with folded tapestries and ornate rugs. Most of the floor space was taken up by a wide variety of large, usually over-stuffed, pieces of antique furniture. Bookcases covered two of the walls. As in the first room, the bookcases were tall and filled to bursting with books, many of which looked very old.
Harry’s head began to swim.
Ginny looked a bit worried when she came up to him. “Everything alright, Harry?”
He moved his head back and forth. “Yes, no, I don’t know. Ginny, I had this huge family that I haven’t known about until today. It’s like I’m part of something that’s been around forever. But it doesn’t mean much now, because they’re all gone, and I’m the only one left.”
Ginny’s eyes focussed on a spot on the floor. “So, you feel part of something, but you also feel you don’t, because it’s gone.”
Harry nodded. “That’s it.” He winced a bit. “There’s also the feeling that I should have known about them.”
“So, you’re mad at Dumbledore for not telling you.”
“Yeah. It would have helped growing up, you know.”
Ginny nodded her head, then Harry shrugged and changed the subject. “Hey, let’s look in the last room.”
They walked over to a large shiny steel door, set in the middle of the back wall. Harry noticed a circle in the middle of the door and placed his hand inside. The huge door silently swung open, and the two kids entered what looked like a huge bank safe.
Harry entered the chamber, and his mouth dropped open. All of the wall space was taken up by medium brown walnut cabinetry, much like those in expensive kitchens. Three of the walls had bottom cabinets topped by a type of stone that had a softly swirling gold and cream pattern through it, with separate wall-hung cabinets above. The fourth wall, the one to his left as he entered the vault, had tall cupboards that rose at least four metres from the floor.
Harry and Ginny both jumped when a voice broke the silence in the room.
“All of your funds, legal contracts, important papers, and jewellery are kept in this room,” Griphook explained. “The cabinets, despite being made from wood, have been charmed so they are virtually impossible to damage. May I show you around?”
Harry took several deep breaths in order to calm down after being startled by Griphook’s unexpected presence. “Yes, thank you.”
Along the wall to the left of the door, Griphook showed the young couple the personal effects contained in the cabinets. They primarily contained a wide range of jewellery, some of it exquisite and obviously extremely expensive, as well as other pieces that were so gaudy Harry wondered about the people who had bought them. He held back a snort when he remembered whoever it was had been a relative of his. He noticed Ginny was particularly taken with a beautiful but understated necklace that featured a garnet coloured stone that hung from a finely crafted chain that seemed to be both gold and silver depending on how the light hit it.
Watches, from antique to modern in design, including a number of pocket watches, handbags, wallets, leather portfolios, and luggage were among the many other personal items in the cabinets.
Griphook moved over to the wall to the right of the door, then the wall directly in front of it, giving Harry a quick overview of the various documents, deeds, personal journals — but none from his parents — and contracts that dated back over a millennium.
Harry found himself having to strongly focus to keep up with the information Griphook was providing, knowing he would have to return at some point to review everything and gain a firmer grasp of the materials here.
As they moved to the fourth wall, Ginny whispered, “Are you remembering everything? He lost me at the first cabinet on the wall on the right.”
Harry smiled. “Me too.”
When the two children turned to look into the tall cupboard Griphook had opened, they gasped at the sight. Dozens, maybe hundreds of money bags, sat on the shelves that went from the bottom of the cupboard to the top. Harry quickly guessed there were ten to twelve shelves.
“Each bag holds ten-thousand Galleons,” Griphook advised with a hint of a smirk in his voice.
Ginny gasped, and her grip on Harry’s hand spiked to a painful level before returning to more comforting level of pressure.
Harry exclaimed, “Merlin.” His expression turned thoughtful and after several seconds, he asked Griphook, “Are all the other cabinets the same?”
Griphook nodded, “In general terms, yes. The remaining eight cabinets have the same set-up as this one, except for the last one. That cabinet has several bags of Sickles and Knuts,” he said dismissively, “and Muggle money from various countries.” His voice resumed a respectful tone. “Your ancestors were widely travelled, Harry, so they required a ready supply of Muggle currencies for those occasions.” The predatory smile returned to his sharp-featured face. “We enjoyed the opportunity to trade in the foreign currency markets and were pleased to split the profits with your family members.”
Harry couldn’t help grinning at the undisguised excitement Griphook showed at playing financial games and making profits.
“If you would like to withdraw funds for school, we can arrange to do that from your school vault.”
Harry considered Griphook’s offer for a minute, then said. “Would you withdraw five-hundred Galleons, please?”
“My pleasure, Harry. It will be waiting for you when we return to the lobby. Do you have any questions about anything we have discussed today?”
Harry smiled. “I’m sure I’ll forget some of what we’ve gone over, but nothing now.”
“You can always contact me should you have a question or several,” Griphook offered.
Harry’s demeanour became serious. “Griphook, I had no idea any of this existed. Thank you for telling me about all of this. You weren’t required to do that, so, well, thank you.” He turned to Ginny. “This is unbelievable. I didn’t have anything growing up at the Dursleys.”
“I know, Harry, but if they had found out about this, they probably would have wanted you to give it to them.”
“You’re right.” He smiled at the redhead. “That’s the best way to look at it.”
“Shall we leave, then?” Griphook asked.
Harry nodded and they left the “money room,” as Harry now thought of it. They found Mr Weasley examining some of the artefacts in the middle room.
He looked up at the sound of their approaching footsteps. “Everything settled, Harry?”
“Yes, sir. We’re ready to leave now,” the boy responded.
“This is an absolutely fascinating place, lad,” Mr Weasley enthused. “I had no idea vaults could be this huge. It certainly gives you a little idea what your ancestors were like. I appreciate you allowing Ginny and me to accompany you.”
Harry smiled at the wizard. “It’s really helped having both of you here.”
Griphook cleared his throat. When Harry looked at him, the goblin said, “There is one more item we should discuss.”
Griphook stopped by the large table that fronted the sofa in the first room and picked up the ornate wooden box. “This will be another surprise.” He paused. “Perhaps you all would like to sit down?”
With puzzled looks, Harry, Ginny, and Mr Weasley sat on the sofa.
“This box can be opened only if you follow a precise order of movements of the various wood pieces. Would you like me to show them in front of your guests?”
Harry immediately responded, “Yes.” He grinned. “But go slowly. My brain is full and ready to burst.”
The goblin laughed politely, as Ginny poked Harry lightly in the ribs and Mr. Weasley smiled.
Griphook showed Harry each of the seven steps required to open the box. When it opened, Harry and the two Weasleys peered inside.
“Keys?” Harry looked at Griphook in confusion.
Griphook nodded, a more serious expression than usual on his face. “This undoubtedly will prove frustrating to you, Harry, given what I have heard and observed from our discussion upstairs and as you have gone through your family vault. These are keys to the four properties that remain in the Potter family.”
Anger spiked immediately in Harry, causing sweat to leap from his pores and stick annoyingly to his clothes. His head felt like it would explode in seconds and his stomach roiled with sharp, nausea-creating pains. First Griphook, then the rest of the room began to fade into a blinding silver light that drilled through his eyes balls straight into his brain. Harry closed his eyes and tried to shut off his other senses in order to keep his magic under control.
“Harry, we’re with you. You’ll be alright. Just take my hand.” Ginny’s soft but urgent voice somehow penetrated the emotions that threatened to isolate him. He felt a small, warm hand grasp his, and he held on as if his life depended on it.
“Breath slowly and deeply, son,” Mr Weasley’s calm, paternal voice suggested. “That’s it. You’ll be fine, just breathe slowly. Would you like me to cast Calming and Cooling Charms?”
“Yes,” Harry gasped.
Seconds later, his breathing began to return to a normal rate, his body seemed to be acting normally, and the pounding left his head. Harry opened his eyes and blinked several times to bring his vision into focus.
“Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely. He looked at the three other people in the room. “Sorry, that really got to me.”
Mr Weasley nodded. “You’re thinking you could have grown up at one of those houses, aren’t you, lad?”
Harry nodded. “He made so many decisions without even letting me know what he had done. Then, he left me at the Dursleys and forgot about me for ten years.”
Harry could feel his anger building again. He pulled himself out of the emotions sweeping through him by focussing on taking slow, deep lungfuls of air. Slowly, a calm feeling returned.
Though he tried, Mr Weasley couldn’t hide his feeling of anger over what Harry had been put through. Questions, never considered before, flew through his mind. Nevertheless, when he spoke to his charge, it was with his usual calm, measured voice.
“Harry, it is probably best to focus on today, not what happened in the past. You’ve learned many wonderful things about your family and gained financial stability thanks to Griphook.” The goblin nodded his thanks to the Weasley patriarch. “Please try to look at these developments as the tremendously positive discoveries they are.” He reached over and placed an arm around the boy.
“I’ll try.” He looked up at the man with some anger still remaining in his eyes and tried to smile. “Now you know why I wanted you to come with me.” The boy exhaled shakily, and he leaned into Mr Weasley’s embrace.
Several minutes later, Harry felt calm enough to continue. “Can we go back now?” He got up with the Weasleys, Ginny’s hand still nestled in his.
Griphook remained still for a moment, then looked at Mr Weasley, then Harry. “If you don’t mind, Harry, I should explain what the keys do. Each is numbered to correspond with a specific property. All you have to do is touch your wand to it and say ‘Potter residence,’ and you will be transported to the entry hall in that house. To return, just say ‘Return.’ It probably would not be wise to visit any of the properties today.”
Griphook looked at Harry and Mr Weasley; both nodded their agreement. “The deeds are in the last room, in the second cabinet along the wall on the right. Ownership has automatically conveyed to you and the property paperwork has been filed on your behalf years ago, so there is nothing that has to be transacted at this time.”
Harry nodded, knowing those actions occurred after his parents were killed by Voldemort.
Griphook continued. “The first property is called Fortuna or Potter Estates. It is the family’s ancestral home, located outside Oxford. It has a very large mansion and several hundred acres surrounding it. Your parents lived in the second house after they married. It is a Cotswold-style bungalow on the outskirts of Godric’s Hollow in Wales. It is a very comfortable home, though not nearly the size or scale of the Manor. But it does have substantial acreage, about fifty, if I recall. A small retreat located in the Lake District and a townhouse in the Notting Hill section of London are the third and forth designated properties.
“Please let us know if and when you plan to visit any of these properties. We have them warded, so we will know if anyone enters the property.” Harry grinned to himself at the return of Griphook’s sinister smile, knowing the wards most likely did more than advise the goblins of a trespasser. “You would be able to enter the property, but any guests would run into difficulties.”
Harry looked at the wide-eyed Mr and Miss Weasley. “Thanks, Griphook. I’ll let you know when we decide to visit the properties.” He grinned. “I don’t think my guests want to find out what would happen if they weren’t authorized.”
With everyone smiling, they left the Potter Family vault and returned to the lobby via a slightly more subdued cart ride. Prior to entering the cart, Harry noticed that the dragons watched the group but with much less intensity than before and wondered what it would be like to ride the mammoth animals.
An associate of Griphook’s, named Ternton, met them in the lobby with a bag containing the five-hundred Galleons Harry had requested. After a series of sincere thank you’s and best wishes, the trio left Gringotts and proceeded up the Alley. Next stop for the trio was The Leaky Cauldron and lunch with the other members of the Weasley family.
The meal stretched out over much food and even more conversation as everyone sought to describe what had occurred during their morning activities — or at least most of the activities, in the case of Harry, Ginny, and Mr Weasley. Once lunch was concluded, the trio bid goodbye to the rest of the group, who still had school supplies and robes to purchase, while Ginny led Harry to a new shop, located across from Ollivander’s, so she could start the process of replacing Harry’s entire wardrobe.
As soon as they started to make their way back down the Alley, Ginny laced her fingers through Harry’s and smiled at her friend. “I’ve been looking forward to this, Mr Potter. You won’t believe how much better you’ll look after I’m through with you.”
Harry snorted at the girl’s lack of modesty, but at the same time a change in the flow of the people around them caught his attention. In looking around, he saw that Mr Weasley had observed the same change and had become much more alert, constantly scanning the crowd.
Harry caught Mr Weasley’s attention and whispered, “What’s wrong?”
“I think some people heard your name . . .”
“Darn it,” Ginny hissed under her breath. “I should know better than that. Sorry, Harry.”
“Don’t worry about it, Gin. We’ll be fine.”
They sped up, and Harry tried to see if the staring, pointing, and whispering continued. Finally satisfied that Harry wouldn’t be approached, the three relaxed and returned to enjoying the sights and sounds that were unique to Diagon Alley. Several minutes later, Harry saw a large banner on the building across from the wandmaker’s shop announcing the “Grand Opening of Magical Mugglewear.”
Ginny’s face lit up. “Here it is,” and she tugged on the highly reticent boy’s arm, pulling him into the shop. Mr Weasley followed, a smile on his face at his daughter’s enthusiasm, but with one last sweep of the alley to see if there was anything of concern.
“Since you already have your school clothes, we’ll look for more casual stuff.”
Ginny walked through the ‘wizards’ section’ of the store, continuing her stream of conscious monologue while periodically grabbing shirts, pants, jumpers, and other items that met her initial approval. For some reason Harry couldn’t figure out, Ginny seemed to prefer an emerald shade of green for most of the shirts and jumpers she selected.
Thirty minutes later, Harry was staggering under a load of clothing. She smiled sweetly. “Time to try them on,” she whispered, “Mr Potter.”
Harry nodded, well aware of the futility of arguing with a Weasley female. “Yes, dear.” He disappeared into a changing room, before Ginny could swat him on the arm.
Slowly Harry worked his way through the stack of clothing she had selected for him, walking into the waiting area outside the changing rooms to model each piece for Ginny. Some items were immediately approved for purchase or rejected for one reason or another, others required an inspection from all angles, and on one or two occasions she returned to the store proper for another colour or size of the garment in question.
After what seemed to be hours, all the decisions had been made, and Harry took the clothes that had met Ginny’s approval to the cashier only to find to his utter mortification that a selection of underwear and socks were already waiting for him. Paying quickly and trying to ignore the clerk’s bemused smirk, Harry carried out the shrunken bags, compliments of Mr Weasley’s charm, in one moderately-sized bag that trumpeted the name of the new shop in blazing letters.
“Before we go back to the Leaky Cauldron, I want to make one more stop,” Harry said.
Both Ginny and Mr Weasley looked at him curiously.
Harry looked directly at Mr Weasley. “I want to go to Ollivander’s and buy Ginny a new wand.”
Both Weasleys began protesting. Harry smiled, while ignoring everything they said. Finally, they paused for a breath and Harry said, “The wand chooses the witch. Ginny should have a wand of her own. Besides, you have to let me pay for something.” He looked at the man, hoping to convey the feeling that this was important to him. “Please?”
Mr Weasley assented without another word.
To Harry, Mr Ollivander looked as creepy as he did the first time. “Back again so soon, Mr Potter?” Harry shook his head. But when Mr Weasley swivelled around to check the room, Mr Ollivander added, “Don’t worry, Mr Weasley, no one else is here.” He looked at the young witch. “May I assume the wand will be for Miss Weasley, then?”
Ginny smiled. “Yes, sir. I’ve been using a wand from one of my aunt’s.”
Mr Ollivander scowled. “The wand chooses the witch, Miss Weasley. You will be in for a treat when we match you up.”
The ancient wandmaker proceeded to take out his magical measuring tape, set it loose on the unsuspecting witch, then he disappeared once the results were in. Mr Ollivander returned several minutes later with a number of thin boxes.
“Try this,” he commanded and thrust the first wand into Ginny’s hand. “Give it a nice swish.”
Nothing happened.
This process was repeated five more times, as Ginny became increasing irritated and a little bit distraught. After the sixth failure, Mr Ollivander disappeared again into the dusty shelves in the back of his long, narrow shop.
Ginny turned to Harry. “What if no wand chooses me?”
Harry replied, “Don’t worry. I tried almost every wand in the shop before he found this one, and it’s been great.”
Ollivander returned with a smile on his face and just one box in his hand. “Try this one, Miss Weasley. I think you will be pleased.” Mr Ollivander started ringing up the sale even before Ginny had picked up the wand.
Seconds later, scarlet and golden sparks exploded from the end of the wand when Ginny tested it. A huge smile crossed her face. “I think I’ve been chosen.”
“Nine and three-quarter inches, willow, flexible, with a dragon heartstring core. This is a wand for a powerful witch, Miss Weasley. It is one of a very few wands that is good for all types of spell casting.” He looked briefly at Harry. “Perhaps great things await you.”
Ginny, Harry, and Mr Weasley all looked puzzled by Mr Ollivander’s last comment, but the man was already busy placing the wand back in the box.
Harry paid, and they quickly left the shop. As soon as they stepped into the Alley, Ginny launched herself at Harry, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.
“Thank you so much for doing this,” she said excitedly. Stepping back, she looked from Harry to her dad. “I could feel the magic moving through the wand without doing anything.” Her eyes sparkled, as she smiled at both of them.
Mr Weasley smiled back at his daughter. “That was extraordinarily nice of you, Harry.” He sighed and looked down briefly. “I think it’s time we returned to The Leaky Cauldron and see what the others have been up to.”
Half an hour later, the group had Floo’d back to The Burrow with their purchases. Harry smiled to himself while he folded his new clothes into the school trunk. He would never admit this to Ginny, or anyone else for that matter, but he liked having new clothes that fit correctly, looked good, and had never been worn by anyone else.
As dinner ended that evening, Harry became uncomfortable when he noticed everyone at the table looking at him, some more subtly than others, but all showing a degree of anticipation on their face.
“Don’t worry,” Ginny leaned over and whispered. “You’ll like this.”
From the head of the table, Mr Weasley cleared his throat. “Over the past month, we have been graced with the presence of a truly remarkable young man . . .”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Shocked silence reigned for several seconds as the family goggled at the son who had uttered those words, then it was obliterated by wave after wave of laughter, claps on the back of the person who was responsible for the remark, and an embarrassed smirk by the culprit.
No one in the family would have guessed that Percival Ignatius Weasley had possessed even an ounce of humour in his entire body.
While trying, and failing, to look repentant, Percy said, “Sorry, Dad. Please continue.” Even though he was looking down, a wide grin was easily seen on his face.
Arthur smiled. “Before I was so humorously interrupted, I was saying we’ve had a month now to get to know a young man we each thought we already knew quite well through the articles and books that have been published about him. We learned to our shock that the stories presented about the young man in no way reflect who he is or the wonderful personal and magical qualities he possesses.
“Harry, it is our extreme pleasure to officially welcome you into the Weasley family.”
As Mr Weasley and their five children cheered and applauded, Mrs Weasley brought in a fairly large object that was covered with a large towel. She placed it on the table in front of Harry.
“If you would do the honours, son,” Mr Weasley asked.
Harry looked around and saw nothing but eager faces, so with a slight flourish he pulled the towel off and found himself wondering why they had put the Weasley Family clock in front of him.
“Look at the hands, Harry,” Mrs Weasley coaxed.
Immediately, he saw that a new hand had been added; one bearing his name. Stunned was too superficial a word to describe the feelings surging through his body. After a decade of being denied anything resembling a normal relationship with his aunt’s family, he had been accepted, totally and without question, by each member of the Weasley family. The activity surrounding him seemed to stop momentarily as several thoughts ran through his mind.
They want me to be part of their family despite who I am.
The twins, Ron, and Percy have each offered their support when we get to Hogwarts.
I don’t know what to call the feelings I get from Mr and Mrs Weasley and Ginny. I just know I’ve never felt this way before or been treated this good.
Harry looked at each member of his new family. “Thank you.”
He grinned widely as Ron, the twins, and even Percy came over and pounded his back and energetically shook his hand, welcoming him to the family with both humour and deeply felt sincerity.
Ginny smiled from her place next to him and mouthed, ‘Welcome, Harry.’
Outside of flying with Ginny, this is the best feeling I’ve ever had.
Harry wasn’t sure what made him get out of his chair, but he knew without a doubt what he wanted to do. He went first to Mrs Weasley, who was standing next to her husband. Without hesitation, Harry leaned into her and wrapped his arms around her back. Her arms instantly pulled him tightly to her, letting him know he was now one of her sons. Mrs Weasley kissed the top of his head, and Harry glowed, thinking ‘that’s what a mother’s kiss feels like.’
When they finally broke the hug, Harry saw Mr Weasley standing next to them. The man smiled warmly and kneeled down with his arms opened wide. Harry launched himself at the man, wrapping himself in Mr Weasley’s embrace, and feeling the hole created by the loss of his father had just filled in some more.
When Harry straightened up, he was the same eye level as Mr Weasley. Harry held up his hand. His movement was mirrored seconds later by Mr Weasley. Both hands moved forward and met halfway, warmly grasping the other.
Mr Weasley whispered, “You’ll always be part of our family, Harry.”
Harry felt that sentiment flow through his hand and move directly to his heart, then spread throughout the rest of his body.
I bet this is how I felt when I was with my parents.
“C’mon, Harry, let’s play some wizard’s chess.”
Despite improving each game, Harry and Ginny lost three times in a row to Ron. At the end of the third game, Mrs Weasley suggested that the children go to bed. Ron, Percy, and the twins said ‘goodnight’ to Ginny and Harry at the first landing and continued up the stairs to the upper floors.
“See you later?” Ginny whispered.
“Can’t wait,” Harry replied.
“Me either. I’ll come over after my parents have gone to bed.”
Harry nodded and went into the loo to brush his teeth and get ready for bed. Once completed and changed into his pyjamas, Harry picked up the first album and began leafing through the photos for the third time.
The four close friends, who were more than that.
Pictures of his parents, together and individually.
Pictures of himself, so small whether by himself or being held by one of his parents.
Quidditch with his dad playing Chaser and scoring goals, followed by photos of his mum cheering, a smile on her face.
His first birthday party, including family friends, especially those with red hair.
A knock on the door pulled him out of the memories
“Come in, Mr Weasley.”
“Just wanted to check in on you, Harry,” Mr Weasley said. “Which album is that?”
“The first one again.”
“That’s the, uh, third time?” Mr Weasley guessed.
Harry smiled. “That’s right. The last picture I looked at was my first birthday and you guys were in it.”
“Yes, we were, and that’s what I wanted to discuss with you. Harry, it’s a pretty serious discussion for right before you go to sleep, but I wanted to say it. I hope you don’t mind.”
Harry shook his head. “Go ahead.”
Mr Weasley sat at the foot of the bed, looking much more relaxed. “This is especially appropriate since you’ve been looking at the pictures. Harry, we — Mrs Weasley and I — have no intentions of trying to replace your parents.”
Harry’s body jerked back in surprise, nearly smacking the back of his head against the headboard.
Mr Weasley looked distressed by Harry’s reaction. “Is that a concern of yours, lad?”
“No!” Harry blurted out his answer much more strongly than he had intended. He consciously lowered his voice. “I’ve never thought that since I’ve been here. You just want to help, because you were friends of my parents and knew me when I was a baby.”
“Then, you’re comfortable living with us and our children and being thought of as family?” Mr Weasley asked.
Harry immediately nodded his head. “I’ll always have memories of my parents and now these pictures. But they’re not here, so I feel like I’m really lucky to have people like you and Mrs Weasley who want me to stay with you. It’s like they’re two different things to me.”
Mr Weasley exhaled strongly and relaxed. “Good. I hadn’t seen any indications that you had any problems with what we’re doing. But I still wanted to make sure.”
The wizard breathed deeply. “I’m glad that’s over. Since this has been a very busy day, I think we’ll skip doing a story on your parents.”
Harry nodded his head sleepily.
“Goodnight, Harry.”
“G’night, Mr Weasley.”
While waiting for Ginny to sneak over, Harry picked up another group of materials the Weasleys had collected from Harry’s past. He pulled out a large piece of parchment that had acquired much more meaning due to this morning’s revelations.
The Potter Family Tree traced the family’s ancestry back to the ninth century.
I had no idea I was part of such a huge family that went back so far.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut, as he fought the increasing anger that began to boil in his centre. The heat quickly rose to his neck and face, sweat formed on his brow and neck, and he swiped at the moisture.
I can’t let Dumbledore’s decisions upset me so much. My life could have been different without feeling so alone, not like anyone else, thinking I was a freak, having no money . . .
Stop it!
Focus on the good stuff I know now and not what Dumbledore has done to me. It’s going to be so much better now.
The small boy filled his lungs with air and let it out slowly, trying to stop the battering thoughts, all of which came back to one source — Albus Dumbledore.
He returned to the parchment and a smile began to form, getting bigger, the more he poured over the names shown on the tree.
The Weasleys . . . Bones . . . Longbottom . . . Greengrass . . . Black . . . Peverell . . . and many others.
Wow! I’m related to lots of wizarding families. My family’s been part of this for over a thousand years . . . I’m part of the wizarding world . . .
Harry’s thoughts drifted until a light tapping on his door brought him back. He walked over to the door, as Ginny stuck her head in.
“Up for some flying?” Her grin was infectious.
Harry scrunched his nose. “Nah. It’s getting old. Let’s skip tonight.”
Ginny’s eyes widened noticeably, then just as quickly narrowed. “Prat!” she whispered.
Harry grinned. “Yup.”
The petite redhead faked a scowl, grabbed his hand, and pulled him out the door. Once they were outside and far enough away from the house, Ginny stopped. “You really need to get a better sense of humour, Potter.”
Harry held up his hands. “Hey, I didn’t get much chance to use one with the Dursleys.”
Ginny flinched, then the teasing look returned to her face. “Good point, but that excuse won’t work for too much longer.” She grinned at the boy. “Let’s go flying!”
They sprinted to the shed and quickly grabbed the two brooms they had come to think as their own. A few minutes later, they were racing through the still-warm air, laughing, and teasing each other.
Much later, Harry floated in the centre of the paddock area, well above the tree line, identifying the various stars, planets, and constellations Ginny had pointed out during their nightly sojourns.
“A knut for your thoughts?” Ginny pulled up next to Harry’s Cleansweep.
Harry raised his head and adopted a superior attitude. “They are worth much more than a knut.”
Ginny snorted. “Two knuts, then.”
Harry grinned. “Sold. I was thinking about what you’ve taught me, like the stars and planets and the stories about the constellations, I just, well . . .” He shook his head. “Want to try the Wronski again?”
Ginny’s look of concern quickly changed to understanding, then to a smile. “Sure. I can see the ground better tonight, so maybe . . .”
“You’ll do great, Gin.”
They quickly aligned their brooms and grabbed the other’s hand. “On three?” Harry asked, and Ginny nodded in response.
Three seconds later, they were racing towards the ground in an almost vertical descent. As the ground rushed towards them, Harry felt the telltale tightening of Ginny’s hand on his. Just a split second too soon, she let go and pulled out of the dive.
Harry’s heart lurched, knowing Ginny would be upset by her action. When he turned to find her, though, she was no where to be found. His heart seemed to stop as he frantically swept the ground with his eyes.
“Up here,” came the voice of his friend, and Harry’s breathing resumed with a deep gasp.
“Fly down here, Gin, I have an idea.” Her eyes narrowed into a sceptical expression, but she pointed the broom down and was soon on the ground, standing beside him, but with a questioning, almost angry look on her face.
Harry explained, “I thought you could get the feeling better if we fly together. I’ll fly so you can get the feel of when to pull up. Okay?”
Ginny thought hard for several seconds. “That’s a good idea. Okay, let’s do it.”
They hopped on Harry’s Cleansweep, with Ginny in the pillion position. Harry kicked off slowly. “I need to get used to the different weight and balance of the broom, so I’m going to fly around and do a few easy dives.”
“Good thinking, Potter. I’d hate to think what a mess we’d be if you ploughed us into the ground doing a Wronski.”
Harry shuddered theatrically. “Don’t even want to think about that.”
They spent the next five minutes flying around the paddock, with Harry doing increasingly complex and faster manoeuvres, including dives from greater heights. He worked their way back to the same height of their first dive and partially turned so he could look at his rider.
“Ready?” he asked.
Ginny immediately answered with a strong, “Yes.”
“You can see over my shoulder okay?”
“Uh huh.” Ginny’s arms tightened around his torso.
“Lean forward with me on three.”
On three, the two children leaned forward as a single, two-headed entity. Harry knew he had to use the same vertical angle and speed they’d used before or else Ginny would be mad at him for babying her.
In the next split second, his instincts took over, and Harry lost all rational thought, leaving only his reflexes, timing, and the pure joy of doing something that he loved beyond reason.
A high-pitched scream accompanied their accelerating downward sprint. Harry waited for what felt like forever until he knew it was time. He leaned back, and Ginny followed his movement as if she were part of him. The blades of the grass stretched closer and closer to the two flyers, and more and more detail became visible.
In the next second, they were moving horizontally and Ginny was screaming in his ear, “I felt the grass with the soles of my shoes. Oh Merlin,” she gasped, “that was incredible. Can you hear my heart? It’s beating so fast it may explode. Woo hoo!”
Harry couldn’t stop from smiling, both from relief that they’d done it and even more so from Ginny’s excitement. He slowed down and turned the broom so it faced The Burrow.
As soon as Ginny said, “Let me try the dive now,” a light in the house went on, then just as quickly blinked off.
“Darn! We better get back to the house.” Ginny’s voice dripped with disappointment.
“Tomorrow night will be the full moon, so it will be even brighter,” Harry said.
“That’s right, and we can stay out longer.” She laughed sharply. “I won’t yell so loud next time.”
Harry laughed and landed the broom next to where Ginny had left hers. As soon as they got off the broom, he was engulfed in what he had begun to think of as a “Weasley hug,” an all-encompassing, full-out, breath taking action that outstripped anything Harry had previously experienced.
“I’m so happy you’re part of our family,” she whispered, then she briefly tightened the hug before letting go.
“I am, too,” Harry whispered back.
When the two children stepped back, they both saw the other reflecting their smile. Ginny picked up her broom, and they silently walked hand in hand back to The Burrow, smiling the entire time. They returned the brooms to the shed, and Harry cast a Silencing Charm on Ginny and himself before they entered the house.
Once they reached their landing, the two children mouthed ‘goodnight,’ and Harry removed the spell from them. Lying in bed, Harry relived his time flying with Ginny, thinking it was the best feeling he had ever had in his life.
Harry woke up unusually early the next morning, the next-to-last day before they departed for Hogwarts. The boy’s insides filled with both excitement and dread at the thought of going to the huge school with hundreds of students he didn’t know, most of whom where older than he was and had been around magic all their lives. Concerns about the professors also flowed through his thoughts, and he hoped they were like Professor McGonagall, even though he knew there was scant chance of that, since he was already sure she was at the top of her profession.
Those thoughts brought Harry to the decision to look through another of the Weasleys’ gifts to him, until other members of the family got up. He pulled a folder from the desk that contained letters about his parents written by some of their Hogwarts professors, including Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, the strangely named Slughorn, several others, and irritatingly, one from Dumbledore.
I may as well look at his letter. I really don’t like feeling so angry with him all the time. Maybe the letter will make me feel better about him.
Harry pulled the embossed letter off the stack and immediately laughed at the information printed on the top of the stationery. In addition to the headmaster’s full name, a ridiculously long one including three middle names, all of the wizard’s titles and awards were listed, Order of Merlin, First Class, and Grand Sorcerer; Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards; and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.
Harry took a deep breath and began to read the florid penmanship of the headmaster.
Dear Harry,
Being approached by both Mr and Mrs Weasley and Remus Lupin has made me realize that I have been remiss in yet another aspect of your care and acculturation into the wizarding society to which you now belong. Specifically, I have failed to help you learn you and your family’s place in the wizarding world from which you would have known how important your ancestors were in establishing a wizarding society in Great Britain, and the roles played by your family members for over one thousand years , including your dear parents, as beacons of the Light.
Remus has already obtained memories of your parents from a number of people, and I was more than pleased to add mine to the collection. It is my hope that they will provide you both with insights into who James and Lily were and to help draw you closer to them. This is something I should have thought of, so please accept the heartfelt apologies of your Headmaster for not doing so.
In the summer prior to each class reaching their fifth year at Hogwarts, two students — one a wizard, the other a witch — are selected from each House to be Prefects. These students are felt to represent the best of that House, and their outstanding leadership and academic success are rewarded by gaining this honour. At the end of the sixth year, two of the eight Prefects are selected to be Head Boy and Head Girl for the school. It is one of the highest honours Hogwarts can bestow on a student, and one I hope you will strive towards during your time at our school.
I selected your parents, James Potter and Lily Evans, as Head Boy and Girl for their seventh year. I did so for several reasons.
They were powerful magically, though that power manifested itself differently in your parents. Lily was among the smartest students ever to attend Hogwarts, particularly in Charms and Potions. That she was Muggle-born never held her back, and in fact, may have served as a source of motivation. Regardless, as you will see in the other letters, Lily was held in high esteem by her professors.
Your father, while capable of excelling academically at the same levels as your mother, chose a different route to show his magical abilities. The creativity behind the pranks he and his friends pulled during their time at my school certainly established them as the premier pranksters in the annals of Hogwarts. From other people, you may learn some of these activities. I am sure you can understand that it is not my place as Headmaster to create an environment where these activities may be repeated.
Your parents were natural leaders, though they came from entirely different backgrounds. Your mother, as I mentioned, was born into a non-magical family. Your father, as you are learning now, was born into one of the oldest and most powerful magical families in our country. Despite their different beginnings, James and Lily were the two most respected students at Hogwarts during their sixth year, and they had held the respect of their classmates, as well as those students who were younger or older than they were. I knew the other students no matter which House they were affiliated with would follow the lead provided by your parents.
The third and last reason for my selecting them is the most personal. Your parents, as you will learn in more detail from other people, had a rocky relationship during most of their time at Hogwarts. During the latter part of their sixth year, however, I noted that James was making the changes necessary to attract your mother’s positive attention. Prior to that, suffice it to say, he more than likely earned her negative attention. Well on their way to overcoming their differences by the end of sixth year, I decided to gently assist the development of any relationship that could develop during their last year. So, I named them Head Boy and Head Girl, which required that they work closely together and be able to present a unified front to the school.
It seems to have worked. By the middle of their seventh year, James and Lily were obviously in love, and it was a marvellous match of two powerful magical people who would make the other even better.
Of course, I would have selected them for the positions even if they had not shown the inclination towards a long-term relationship. They had achieved the honour by excelling in all the usual areas we review. Their personal relationship just made it that much more meaningful for me.
Harry, I hope this short letter helps you to see that your parents were indeed special people, both as individuals and as a couple. They truly were two of the most outstanding students to have graced the halls of this very ancient school. You should be proud to be their son and to be part of such an outstanding family.
I look forward to your arrival at Hogwarts and to establishing a lifelong relationship with you.
Yours very truly,
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
The second he finished reading Dumbledore’s letter, Harry flung the parchment in the general direction of his desk before his anger and disgust goaded him into casting a spell that would destroy it. Shocked, he saw the books on the top of the desk scatter like leaves whipped by the wind.
Harry stared at the parchment, wondering how it had caused his books to move that like. Realization quickly dawned on the boy. He had sent the books flying, just as if he had knocked them off the desk with his arm — or more accurately the magic in his hand and arm.
I’ve got to calm down. I can’t damage the Weasleys’ house. Take deep breaths.
Finally, he felt ready to think about the letter without his magic running amok.
Dumbledore as good as said he’s the reason my mum and dad got together and ended up getting married. He selected them for Head Boy and Head Girl like he thinks he’s some type of god or something.
Merlin, he makes me furious the way he wrote about my mother being a Muggle-born. He made it sound like she had some kind of horrible disease. Huh! Pretty much said she had to overcome her non-magical family, especially since he mentioned it a few times.
That sure didn’t stop him from dumping me with those Muggle relatives of mine and forgetting about me for ten years. They hated magic. How could he not know that? He had to have known Aunt Petunia and maybe even Uncle Vernon. What was he playing at?
He made Dad sound like a jerk, who didn’t care about his classes, only goofing around, and that Mum hated him most of the time.
Dumbledore’s had all this time to tell me about my parents and my family. If it wasn’t for the Weasleys getting all this stuff, I bet he still wouldn’t have told me anything. It’s almost like he wanted to keep as much information from me as possible. Maybe that’s why he hid me away at the Dursleys’.
This letter is just him doing the same things he does to me all the time. It’s all about him and his games. He sits in his office and mucks around in other people’s lives, not really caring about them, just getting them to do what he wants.
Who gave him the authority to run other people’s lives, to make decisions and not even tell them? His mistakes cost my parents their lives. That’s why he won’t tell me anything. Dumbledore’s still hiding stuff — I know it.
Harry heard sounds of activity downstairs and assumed Mrs Weasley had started breakfast. He took several deep breaths.
I still need to cool down. Maybe a cold shower will do it.
Fifteen minutes later, Harry went down the stairs, skipping what he thought of as Ginny’s step, and entered the kitchen, carrying the piece of parchment in his hand.
“Good morning,” he said to Mr and Mrs Weasley.
Once he had been greeted, Harry asked, “Mr Weasley, would you read this letter from Professor Dumbledore?”
“Sure, Harry.” He took the letter and began to read.
Harry sat down at his usual spot and noticed that Mr Weasley’s open expression had changed to a frown that seemed to deepen the longer he read the letter. His eyes had narrowed by the time he finished the letter.
Seeing the boy watching him, Arthur Weasley heaved a deep sigh. “What did you think of the headmaster’s letter, Harry?”
Harry tried to rein in the surge of anger he felt when he thought of the letter. He looked at the man and immediately knew how he had to respond. “It made me mad,” he said quietly.
Mr Weasley nodded and pursed his lips. “Thank you for being honest with me, son. You didn’t want to say anything negative to me about Professor Dumbledore, did you?”
Harry’s first reaction was to drop his head and mumble that he was sorry. But he quickly realized Mr Weasley wasn’t mad at him. He was just trying to find out what he was thinking.
“He’s not the type of man you . . . ah . . . get mad at.”
Mr Weasley slowly nodded his head. “But you are mad at him.”
Harry nodded his head. “He made it seem they got together only because of him, like he was taking credit for it or something. He kept saying that my mother was Muggle-born, my dad was a joker, and they hated each other.”
Harry paused, but it was obvious to Mr Weasley the boy was not finished speaking. “It’s like on the surface he was saying they were good people, but what he really said was they had lots of problems and wouldn’t have been any good without him making those decisions.” He looked at the wizard. “Does that make any sense?”
Mr Weasley smiled. “Yes, it does, Harry. You’ve provided a good summary of the letter.” Mr Weasley’s eyes narrowed in concentration. “Are you familiar with the term ‘self-serving?’”
Harry shook his head.
“Well, it means something that a person does, says, or,” he held up the letter, “writes that makes that person look good, when it was supposed to be about other people.”
Harry smiled. “Like this letter?”
Mr Weasley raised his eyebrows. “I’m afraid so, Harry. The headmaster is a leader in the wizarding world, and he is quite used to people seeking his opinion, being highly complimentary to him, and rightly so, I may add. I’m not sure he intended this letter to sound the way it does, if that helps you at all. I know he thought very highly of your parents, so I am positive there was no intent to make them look bad.”
“I understand, Mr Weasley. Thanks.” Harry looked at the man again. “Why would he write about the problems my mum had as a Muggle-born, then put me with my Muggle relatives, so I would be raised without magic like my mum and not know anything about magic or the wizarding world?”
Mr Weasley’s eyes widened. “That’s an excellent question, Harry. Other than what we know already — that the blood wards protected you there — it is a question I am not able to answer for you at this time.”
“That’s okay, Mr Weasley. Thanks for looking at the letter for me.”
Mr Weasley smiled at the newest member of his family. “That’s what we’re here for, Harry.”
The young boy smiled back at the man.
“Bloody menace!” Ron yelled.
He dove after his new familiar, Scabbers, an old, slightly decrepit common garden rat. Percy had given the pet to Ron earlier that morning, since he had received an owl as a reward for being selected Prefect for the fifth year Gryffindors.
“Hedwig, leave the rat alone!” Harry was baffled by the unusual behaviour of his normally well-behaved owl.
Ginny, Ron, and Harry had been sitting in Harry’s room, playing Gobstones, when Hedwig returned from hunting and dove directly at the rat.
Ron was now stretched out on the floor, trying to coax the petrified rat closer to him, so he could capture the rodent and return him to safety in his new owner’s top-floor room.
“Finally!” Ron pulled himself up from the floor, Scabbers squirming in hand, gave one last glare at Hedwig, and left the room. Hedwig flew over to her perch and tucked her head under her wing and went to sleep.
Ginny turned to Harry. “You know that would have been really gross if Hedwig had caught the stupid rat.”
Harry scrunched his face up at the thought. “Thanks for mentioning that, Weasley.” He lowered his voice. “Flying tonight?”
She nodded. “This should probably be our last time. It will be too sad on the last night before you guys leave.”
“And I wouldn’t get much sleep.” Harry smiled.
Ginny laughed. “We couldn’t have you falling asleep at the Welcoming Feast.”
He snorted. “Landing face first in my food wouldn’t make a great first impression.”
“Except on your face!” Ginny exploded with laughter.
Mrs Weasley’s voice was easily heard above the two children’s laughter. “Dinner’s ready. Wash up first.”
Harry and Ginny dutifully stopped at the loo, then proceeded down the stairs, one clean hand in another.
After dinner and the usual demolition by Ron at chess, despite Ginny’s best efforts to help him, Harry retired to bed to finish packing his trunk for the looming trip to Hogwarts — only one day remained before they left. When that was finished, Harry started revising the few remaining sections in the third year Potions book. All the other books had been returned to Percy the previous day.
After Harry finished off the Potions book, he returned it to Percy, stopped off at the loo on the way back to prepare for bed, and had just settled in with the second album, when there was a light knock on the door.
Mr Weasley entered the room at Harry’s greeting. “Oh, I see you’re looking at the pictures. Why don’t we just go through them, and I’ll fill in wherever I can.”
“That would be great,” Harry answered.
Mr Weasley pulled the desk chair out, so he was seated by the head of the bed, next to Harry, so they could easily see the photos. The next hour passed comfortably as Mr Weasley identified people Harry didn’t know, provided stories behind the events and individuals captured in the photos, and added to the boy’s increasing knowledge of his parents.
When they finished paging through the photo album, Mr Weasley cleared his throat, and Harry looked up in anticipation.
“Son, I thought it might be better if we had a little talk tonight. The day and evening before the departure to Hogwarts is usually a little bit busy.” The man smiled ruefully while Harry grinned. “As you can imagine, it’s a madhouse around here, and I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to talk with you.
“Harry, the advice I’m going to give you is very simple, but you will find it a challenge. We, that is Molly, err, Mrs Weasley and I want you to be yourself. By that, we mean the person you’ve kept hidden for all these years, lad. We understand perfectly why you did that. But those times have passed, and it’s time for you to be yourself fully.
“I know that will be hard, but remember that you are now in the world that you were meant to be.”
He smiled at the young boy. “I’m talking too much. Do you have any questions so far?”
Harry immediately shook his head, but seconds later looked at the bedspread and nodded yes. He breathed deeply. “I guess I’m worried about how people will look at me. I hate being the centre of attention.” He glanced up at the man. “Hogwarts is huge, and I won’t know anybody except Ron, the twins, and Percy. I won’t know any professors except Professor McGonagall. I don’t know anything about the wizarding world or much about magic. I guess . . .” he exhaled strongly, “I guess I’m just worried that I’ll be lousy at everything, and people will think ‘that’s the famous Harry Potter?’”
Mr Weasley nodded his head. “Harry, the feelings you’ve described, except for the fame, of course, are fairly common for many first years, especially those from non-magical families or who are the first in their family to go to Hogwarts. May I address each of your concerns?”
Harry nodded his head, feeling just a little bit better by what Mr Weasley had said.
“There’s nothing you can do about the fame. People will react in whatever way they choose. What you can control is how you act, which brings us back to what I mentioned. Be yourself.” Mr Weasley leaned forward and placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You are a very good young man. Unfortunately, the way your relatives treated you never allowed you to learn that fact. Let me assure you that in the month you’ve been with us, we’ve seen quite a special wizard emerge.”
Arthur Weasley smiled at the boy’s blush. “I’m going to embarrass you some more, son. You are intelligent and curious, which is a wonderful combination. I don’t think you will have any problems learning the material presented in your classes, as long as you work hard. Many first years don’t have any more familiarity with magic than you do, and some will have less. Harry, you may not know it at this point, but the magic you’ve learned already from Professor McGonagall is quite advanced for a first year.”
He smiled at his charge. “And I know you have been studying both second and third year text books. Three times each?” Harry nodded. “As for not knowing many people, knowing Ron, George, Fred, and Percy will put you on equal footing with most of the incoming students and ahead of many of them. Don’t worry about making tonnes of friends. Instead, focus on learning about people you meet and making friends with the ones you like. As we’ve discussed, you have very good instincts. Trust them, Harry, and you’ll know who is worthwhile. It’s better to have several good friends, than just to know lots of people.”
Harry began to feel better about the looming trip to Hogwarts and everything that would follow it.
“One last topic, lad, more of a reminder really. Talk with Professor McGonagall about the House system.” Harry leaned forward. “Even if she doesn’t want to make changes, you can. Use your fame to your advantage. Students in the other houses, especially Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws and maybe a few Slytherins, will want to be your friend. You can break down the Houses one new friend at a time by simply talking to those other students that are in your classes, studying with them, eating at their tables, and just getting together.”
Arthur Weasley smiled warmly at the young boy. “I think you’re going to have a smashing year, Harry.”
Harry launched himself at the man, throwing his arms around him, and squeezing tight. Mr Weasley wrapped his arms around the boy, the smile on his face growing even warmer.
“Thanks, Mr Weasley,” Harry whispered. “I feel a lot better now.”
“Just remember, Harry. You’ll never be alone again. You’re family.”
The boy buried his head in the man’s chest. The empty feeling caused by the loss of his parents was again reduced by Mr Weasley’s heartfelt words.
Ten minutes later the Weasley patriarch had gone upstairs for the evening. Ginny tapped lightly at the door and stuck her head in the room.
“I couldn’t wait any longer,” she whispered. “Let’s go.”
Harry smiled at the excited look on the redhead’s face, cast Silencing Charms on their feet, and the two kids snuck down the stairs.
Minutes later, the two flyers were in the air, pushing their brooms through an increasingly complex set of loops, sprints, and dives. Harry caught Ginny’s eye and looked up. She grinned.
“I’m doing it this time.”
Harry saw the naked determination in her eyes and smiled to himself. He manoeuvred his broom so they were parallel to each other.
“Same as before, right?” Ginny nodded. “When we reach the level to pull up, I’ll let go of your hand.” He returned the girl’s steely stare. “You’re going to do this time, Gin. I can feel it.”
With hands grasped firmly together, the two children launched themselves into the steep descent. Even at the ever increasing speeds, Harry marvelled at the illuminating light sent from the moon, making the field below almost as clear as during daytime.
He snuck a quick peek at his companion. Ginny was entirely focused on the up-rushing ground.
Harry returned his gaze to the field and marvelled at being able to see individual blades of grass.
‘Now!’ he thought and released his grasp of Ginny’s hand.
They pulled up as if they were one entity attached by the air surrounding them.
Grass brushed the bottom of his trainers.
An ear-splitting, life-affirming, extraordinarily joyful, and utterly exuberant shout rent the air.
“Woooo hoooo!”
The two flyers quickly landed, jumped off their brooms, and literally threw themselves at each other in a dancing, hugging, instinctive celebration of their overwhelming excitement.
Ginny was babbling. “I did it. We did it. You taught me. It was perfect. Merlin, that’s exciting. The ground was racing up, but I just hung on. You hung on, and I knew I could trust you. Woo hoo! Wow! This is amazing.”
Ginny filled her lungs and exhaled loudly. Her smile was more luminous than the moon, as she whispered, “Thanks, Harry. You knew I could do it. Thank you.”
Her eyes climbed upwards.
Harry grinned. “On your own this time?”
Ginny nodded, the look of determination back in her eyes.
They hopped on their brooms and met above the treetops, slowly circling and enjoying the moonlit sights that stretched from The Burrow’s boundaries, past the village, and finally dissolved into darkness. The evening sky formed a canopy that seemed somehow closer and friendlier than before, as they identified the stars, planets, and constellations they knew on sight.
Without a word, they pulled their brooms close to each other, and with a shared glance, set off together. The twin comets flew through the night sky, carving parallel paths as if guided by a single thought. Their actions were simple yet sublime and ultimately soaring as they mirrored each other’s movements without needing to look.
The shared arc towards the ground.
The mirrored turn to parallel the earth, with the reassurance of the grass beneath their feet.
The banked landing — one curving to the left, the other to the right — that brought them to same spot.
But mostly, the certainty that nothing would be the same again.
The two children breathed deeply, while staring at each other.
“That was incredible,” Ginny finally whispered.
“It felt like something was guiding me,” Harry said, a puzzled tone in his voice.
“Exactly,” Ginny added immediately. With another deep breath, she asked, “Do you want to talk?” They absently reached out for the other’s hand and interlaced their fingers.
“Yeah,” He said, and they walked towards their tree. “Staying out late tomorrow night would be a problem.”
Ginny laughed. “You could oversleep and miss the train.”
“Or I could make the train, but be so sleepy I’d fall asleep at the Welcoming Feast.”
“And fall into your food,” Ginny snorted.
“That would make a great impression,” Harry laughed.
“Especially on your face.” Ginny choked out.
Harry bumped her shoulder. “Funny girl.”
“Yup.
They sat down under the same tree Ginny had the first time Harry had flown with her brothers. The grass wasn’t damp yet, since the weather had remained mild.
The young girl took a deep breath, and the words came tumbling out. “You’re going to think I’m crazy, but you already know my dad read Harry Potter stories to me a lot when I was growing up. Well, there’s more to it.” She stopped abruptly and stared into the boy’s eyes. “You’re going to think I’m crazy,” she repeated.
The boy held out his hand and wiggled it back and forth. She slapped at it, while laughing.
“Thanks a lot, Potter.” Her face turned serious again. “I’ve dreamed about you.” Harry’s eyes literally flew open. “What? You think I’m mental, don’t you?”
He shook his head, a million conflicting thoughts bombarding him. Finally, he knew what he had to do.
“I . . . I dreamed of you, too,” he admitted hesitantly, and watched her eyes spring open in shock. “Didn’t know it was you, just a redheaded girl. There were other redheaded people, too. Now, I know those people were you and your family”
Ginny sat still, her thoughts swirling around her. All these years, she thought she had dreamed about Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. It saddened her to realize she had been dreaming about Harry, the poor boy who lost his parents and was forced to live with his Muggle relatives and no magic. Finally, she stirred.
“I bet it’s from when we were babies, and our parents would get us together.”
Harry nodded his head. “Yeah, makes sense.” He looked at the girl, debating whether to say what he was thinking. “It helped, you know, when I was at the Dursleys.”
“Oh!” It sounded like air being sucked in. “Sorry,” she said. “I know it was tough for you.”
“Yeah. But I’m with you guys now.”
Ginny smiled at him.
They sat in a comfortable silence, having no intention of returning to the house yet. The air surrounding them was still soft and warm, feeling like a familiar blanket. The slight breeze brought a faint scent of honeysuckle from the garden. Moonlight drifted through the leaves, creating mosaics of light and dark over both children and their surroundings.
Ginny finally summoned her courage. “I’m really going to miss you.”
Harry looked over quickly and noticed how tense Ginny’s shoulders looked. “I’m going to miss you, too.” He paused, then ploughed on. “You’re my best friend.”
Ginny’s head snapped up and she stared at the boy. Within seconds, a warm smile had taken its place. “You’re my best friend, too.”
“I’ll write everyday,” Harry said, “and tell you everything that’s going on, like we said, lessons, professors, everything.”
“And I’ll write back everyday. Oh, I know. Could you leave Hedwig with us when you leave for Hogwarts? That way I can send a letter to you the first day. If I write it as soon as we get back, I bet Hedwig will be able to get it to you that night. Then you can tell me about the train ride and Welcoming Feast and your roommates. Will you leave her?”
Harry smiled at Ginny’s excited eyes. “Sure. I know Hedwig would prefer to fly than to be cooped up in her cage for the entire trip.” He paused a moment. “When your dad was talking with me tonight, he reminded to talk with Professor McGonagall about the House system . . .” Harry proceeded to tell Ginny what he had discussed with Mr Weasley.
When he finished, she was staring at him goggle-eyed. “Do you really think they’ll change a system that has been around for a thousand years?”
Harry shook his head. “Probably not. That’s why your dad said to talk with the new students based on whether they seemed nice or not, and not to worry which house they were in.”
Ginny nodded, deep in thought. “It could work with the first years. The older ones would be too set in their ways. But you could talk to the new students about classes you share.”
“Study together in the library,” Harry said.
“Hang out together,” Ginny added.
“Eat meals together,” Harry mentioned.
Ginny’s head whipped around. “Sit at another table? I don’t think that’s been done before.”
Harry laughed. “Probably won’t start with that one.”
Ginny joined his laughter, then quickly sobered up. “It will be four months before all of you come back for the Christmas Holidays.”
Harry nodded. “It’ll go fast. Just watch. I’ll send so much homework it’ll seem like just a month since we left.”
When Ginny spoke next, her voice was barely more than a whisper. “I hope you won’t forget me during that time. There will be lots of other people around, witches your own age.”
Harry noticed that Ginny’s eyes had taken on a hollow cast. “Ginny, how could I forget you? You . . . uh . . . found me. This has been the best time in my life.” He shook his head and laughed. “Besides, we’ll be writing every day. How could I forget you?”
Ginny smiled. “You’re right. I was just being silly.” Her smile widened. “This has been the most fun I can ever remember, with the flying.”
“The pond,” Harry said quickly.
“Oh, yeah, that was fun,” Ginny agreed. “The wandless magic.”
“The defence classes with Professor McGonagall.”
Ginny laughed. “You knocking her out — two times.”
“The clothes shopping. Oh, I shouldn’t have said that.” Harry grinned at the girl.
“Too late. Gringotts, with the cart ride, the dragons, all the neat stuff from your ancestors.”
Harry stopped. “We should go there next Saturday. Maybe Ron and I can meet you and your parents here and use the keys to see the houses. I’ll ask your father tomorrow, and he can tell Griphook, so nothing happens when we arrive.”
“Oh, Harry, that would be so much fun.” The petite girl wrapped her arms around the boy. “I can’t wait.”
The two sat peacefully close to each other. Finally, Ginny said, “I guess we should go in now. From the position of the moon, it’s pretty late.”
Harry reluctantly agreed, even though it had been the longest amount of time they had stayed out. Harry got up and extended his hand to Ginny to help her up. Their hands remained entwined all the way back. They returned the brooms to the shed. Harry silenced their feet when they reached the back door, and they snuck back upstairs, pausing in the hall between their two bedrooms.
Harry whispered, “This was fantastic tonight. Thanks, Gin.” He smiled at his friend.
“Thanks for teaching me.” She smiled wistfully. “That’s an amazing feeling.” Ginny hesitated, as if she was going to say something else. Instead, she launched herself at Harry, pecked a kiss on his cheek, and in the next second had whispered “Goodnight,” and disappeared into her bedroom.
Harry stared at the closed door for several seconds, then went into his bedroom.
Mrs Weasley was in her “return to Hogwarts count down” mode. It had started at breakfast and continued throughout the day. Harry wondered if it was Mrs Weasley’s way of coping with the thought of her four sons leaving for school the next day.
As he had promised Ginny the previous night, Harry mentioned to Mr Weasley about going to the four houses on the following Saturday, with Mrs Weasley, Ron, and Ginny. Mr Weasley enthusiastically endorsed the suggestion, and they decided the easiest way was to have Harry and Ron Floo to The Burrow. The rest of the day was a blur of activity, mostly focused on finding everything the boys needed to take and getting them packed.
The next thing Harry knew, the Weasleys and he were eating dinner.
“George, Fred, do you have all your books and supplies together?” Mrs Weasley asked.
Harry smiled to himself. That must be the hundredth time she’s asked them.
The twins ignored the question. The obvious answer was that they hadn’t even thought of packing, since they had several more hours of freedom left.
“Ron, is everything packed?” Mrs Weasley eyed him closely.
Ron’s eyes darted around the room, and he mumbled something that he hoped his mum would interpret as a ‘yes.’
“Well, Harry, I bet you’re packed.” She smiled sweetly at the only non-redhead at the table.
Everything was packed with the exception of what he currently had on and what he would be wearing the next day. Harry had made good use of the blood-warded compartment in his new trunk. All of his most prized possessions had been placed there — the Invisibility Cloak, the keys to the four Potter Family houses, the two advanced books from the family vault, Cunning Charms and Offensive Spells, Jinxes, and Hexes Moste Powerful, the books he had bought with Professor McGonagall, the Marauders Map, and the materials the Weasleys collected on his parents, including the pensieve and memories.
Not wanting to make the others look bad, Harry just shrugged his shoulders.
The twins had been whispering a lot during the day, occasionally with Ron, and it had continued into the meal time.
Harry asked to be excused, and with Mrs Weasley’s nod, got up and quickly headed upstairs. His stomach was reacting again, though he didn’t know if it was from the change in diet or concerns about the new life that awaited him at Hogwarts.
While Harry was upstairs, the others finished dinner. Ginny helped her mum move the dishes from the table to the sink, then headed upstairs. The boys remained at the table, still conversing quietly.
Ginny had gone about halfway up the stairs, when she remembered that she had left her ponytail holder on the table. She reached the bottom of the stairs, as Harry left the loo and started to walk down the hall towards the stairs. As he passed his bedroom and Ginny’s, Harry found himself cemented to the floor.
He tried repeatedly to lift first one foot, then the other, but no matter how much effort he put into it, he couldn’t move. The small boy started shaking with anger as he frantically searched for the source of the attack, while sweat beaded on his forehead and began to drip down his back.
At the same time, George and Fred saw Ginny walk into the kitchen and heard angry sounds from upstairs.
“Oh, no,” they chorused, as they frantically waved their wands to cancel the prank.
In the seconds between realization and reaction, an explosion shook The Burrow.
Ginny screamed, “Harry!” and sprinted up the stairs, closely followed by the twins and Ron, Mr and Mrs Weasley, and Percy.
They found Harry crumbled on the landing, fragmentary remnants of the hallway floorboards still attached to the bottoms of his trainers. He was covered by small pieces of the flooring, plus plaster and dust that had been loosened by the explosion.
His arms were wrapped around his knees, which were pulled tightly to his chest.
Harry rocked back and forth, humming tunelessly.
His eyes were blank and unseeing.
Every part of Harry — his hair, his skin, and his clothes — was a bright, mocking pink.
Chapter 21: Departure
Author's Notes: We've finally reached the day where Harry Potter, the four Weasley boys, and all the other magical students are supposed to leave for Hogwarts. Will Harry be on the Hogwarts Express? Will he recover from Ron and the twins' prank? Will Ron and twins still be alive after Ginny and Molly get through with them? These and many other questions will be answered in this chapter. Hope you enjoy it!
A huge thanks to cwarbeck for another fantastic beta job, despite having her real life responsibiities try to take precedence over our HP fan fiction. A bouquet of cyber-roses to our sweet cel.
“What were you thinking?” Molly Weasley screamed at Ron and the twins.
The three boys stared ashen-faced at Harry and the damaged hallway that provided silent testimony to the extent of their mistake.
Ginny stared at her friend, who continued to rock back and forth, staring vacantly as if no other people were there. Her mind and body felt numb, except for her heart, which felt like it had been pierced by a knife. She couldn’t stand it anymore and turned quickly, her wand pointing at George’s face.
“Mucosa . . .”
“Silencio.”
The girl pivoted towards the offending voice, her wand pointed at his chest.
“Ginny, Harry wouldn’t want you to do that,” Percy said quietly. “Let’s focus on him.”
Ginny’s silent expression turned from mutinous to understanding. She nodded and pocketed her wand.
Percy whispered, ”Finite Incantatem,” and released the spell.
Ginny looked at Percy. “You’re right. Thanks.” She turned and glared at her three youngest brothers. “Harry and I will get you when you’re least expecting it.” She locked eyes with each brother in turn. Then, she returned her gaze to Harry and her expression softened.
“Arthur and Percy, would you please move Harry to his bed?” Molly asked softly, before barking at the boys. “George, Fred, Ron, clean up this mess. No magic. We will talk later.”
The five Weasleys continued to stare at the catatonic boy, as if they hadn’t heard a single word from the redheaded witch. Their expressions conveyed the soul-stifling sorrow they felt about the mistimed prank and especially for the person it affected.
“Move! Now!”
Action erupted on all fronts.
Molly followed her husband as he and Percy carefully helped Harry onto his bed, with Ginny right next to her friend.
“What should we do?” Molly asked, trying to keep the desperation and heartbreak from her voice. “He had been making such wonderful progress. Is there a healing spell we can cast that will help him?”
“Finite Incantatem”, Arthur whispered, returning Harry and his clothing to their normal colours. “I’ve already cast a Calming Charm. He doesn’t seem to be hurt physically. I’m much more concerned about his emotional reaction.”
Arthur rubbed the bridge of his nose, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly tired. “It concerns me that Harry reacted with anger, rather than laughing and calling down to Ron or the twins to release him.”
Molly nodded her head. “Reverting so quickly to that . . . cut-off state scares me to death. His reaction brings up so many questions. Does he think they wanted to hurt him? Has he lost all trust in the boys? How will he act now? Will he close down like he was when he first arrived here?”
Murmurs from the direction of Harry’s bed caught their attention. Ginny was sitting next to her friend, whispering soft, reassuring words. Her expression conveyed hope, anger, and bottomless sadness.
“It was a mistake . . . They set it for me, not you . . . They feel horrible . . . They would do anything to undo this . . . Please don’t shut them out . . . Harry, you’ve got to come back to me . . .”
The boy’s head jerked up at the last request. Ginny watched closely. His lifeless eyes and blank face flickered briefly in recognition, but quickly returned to their empty expression, as his head sank back to the pillow. Ginny slumped, and she couldn’t stop the tears from trailing down her cheeks.
She tried to will Harry’s spirit back into him, as he had done with his magic for her. Holding his hand, she traced each finger, stopping at each knuckle, sometimes whispering, other times silently conveying her hopes.
Harry, please don’t go back to where you were. You’re so much better than that person. Please don’t lose the real you. You have so much to give. You’re incredible with your magic and you’re just beginning to learn how to use it.
You’re smart, even Percy commented on how quickly you picked up the Shield Spells he taught you. Even better, he said you helped him see what he has in common with the rest of us, and not to focus on the differences. You even taught the twins how to be sneakier with the Silencing Spell. I didn’t think anybody could outsneak them.
Mum and Dad adore you, just like you’re their seventh son. You’re the only person they’ve ever added to the Family Clock. That should tell you everything. You brought Ron in to learn more magic with Professor McGonagall, and almost every night you let him destroy you in chess. No one else in the family will even play against him anymore, except for Bill and Bill’s not here anymore. But you never hesitate when he asks you to play chess or Quidditch or whatever.
I don’t know what we’d do if we lost you, Harry. You’re part of our family now. I’d be lost if you didn’t return to us. You’ve become a big part of my life. You’re teaching me so much about magic and flying and it’s like, I don’t know, it’s like we get each other. I’ve never felt that way before, and it’s just so much fun. My brothers are great and all, but this is different than how I feel towards them. They’re my brothers and they have to be nice to me, but you’re my friend because you want to be.
Does that make any sense?
Harry, please listen to me. You can’t leave me, not after we’ve got to be such great friends. You already know me better than anyone else. And I think I understand you better than anyone else does. At least, I’d like to think I do. I don’t want to think of a world without you doing what’s right without having to think about it, being an amazing flyer and wizard already, having such a lame sense of humour, letting me be myself even when I’m being a pain.
We can’t lose you, Harry, not now. Please come back. Please stay my best friend.
No matter how hard she tried, Ginny could no longer hold back the desperately empty feeling that had taken hold of her. Sobs shook her slight body, as the tears overflowed and flooded her cheeks. The petite girl laid her head on Harry’s chest and her arms clung to his shoulders.
Her racing thoughts had been extinguished, leaving just the empty emotion of loss.
She vaguely felt arms wrapping around her and wondered whether it was her mum or dad trying to comfort her.
“Gin, don’t cry,” requested the soft, hoarse voice.
Her head shot up in shock at the sound of the voice. Ginny looked into the eyes that were mere centimetres from hers. They carried a light and so much caring they took her breath away.
Their eyes locked on each other, and he asked in a whisper, “Are you okay?”
Ginny couldn’t hold back her laughter. Finally, she choked out. “Am I okay? You’re the one who got caught in the prank and blasted himself out of it.”
“Gin, I don’t feel so good.” Harry’s complexion had grown pale and his skin quite moist. The boy fell back unconscious
“Mum, Dad, come quick!”
Harry watched himself drifting through a grey fog, having no idea where he was or how he had arrived at this desolate place that was bereft of any features. The only sound was that of his feet as they moved over a surface he couldn’t even see. Walking slowly, his head constantly swivelling around, brought no change to what he saw around him. Still, he felt as if he were being watched, though that idea seemed impossible, given the impenetrable fog that seemed to go on forever.
Harry walked aimlessly, not knowing if he was moving towards something or away from it or even if there was anything else in this place besides him. Despite the consistent lack of anything around him, Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that he had to go somewhere, do something, but he had no idea what and where.
He stopped and turned in a circle, trying to determine if there was anything he could walk towards, that could guide him back to wherever he should be.
As he turned, Harry thought he saw an infinitesimal movement in the fog, but by the time it had registered in his brain there was nothing to see.
I probably imagined it, he thought. He shrugged his shoulders and walked in that general direction.
“Oh Merlin, he’s burning up,” her mum said. “Ginny, dampen a washcloth under cold water and put it on Harry’s forehead.” Molly turned to her husband. “I don’t think we should chance casting a Cooling Charm on him.”
“I agree.” Arthur shook his head. “Harry’s reaction seems unusual — both his explosion and now this. I have to admit I’m concerned.”
Ginny returned, placing the cold compress on his forehead, and resuming her vigil next to the boy. She looked at her parents through eyes that were wide and filled with tears.
“It almost seems like he’s not here, like he’s lost somewhere.” She frowned in frustration. “I can’t explain it very well. It’s more of a feeling.”
Her dad squeezed her shoulder. “We understand what you’re feeling. Just keep talking to Harry and encourage him to return.”
“If he remains like this for much longer, we’ll fire call the headmaster and Professor McGonagall. They may want to move him to Hogwarts and Madam Pomfrey.”
Ginny moved closer to her friend and began whispering. “It’s time to return to us, Harry . . .”
A minute ruffle in the fog caught Harry’s attention, and he adjusted his course to move in that direction. He thought he had seen some colour within the movement but decided it was his imagination, since everything remained the dense grey that had been surrounding him since he arrived in this place.
As soon as Harry set his direction, he felt the fog close in on him, almost as if it were trying to hold him back. He leaned forward in order to make his way through the sluggish, moist air, thinking of it as an opponent, something that was keeping him from going where he wanted to be, fighting him each step of the way.
Harry was certain of one thing. He did not belong here and wanted to get out. All he had to do was figure out how to do that.
The wait for Harry to return seemed interminable to Ginny. She got up for her third trip to the loo, where she rinsed out the wash cloth, then drenched it under the cold water from the tap. Walking back to the unmoving boy, an idea came to her. As soon as she placed the compress on Harry’s forehead, she resumed whispering.
“Harry, we’ve got to plan a revenge prank on Ron and the twins. Even though they got you by mistake, they intended the prank for me. The pink gave it away. They should have used another colour or better yet, done something different. Just copying isn’t very original, is it? Well, since we were both involved, we get to work together to prank them in return. It’s part of the unwritten Weasley Pranking Rules. You know why they’re unwritten, don’t you? We could never chance having Mum see them. Anyhow, you need to wake up, so we can plan how we want to get back at them. We don’t have to pull it off here at The Burrow. It can happen at Hogwarts. Then, you can tell me all about it. Besides, you can sleep tomorrow on the train ride up to Hogwarts. Ron will probably put you to sleep even if you don’t want to. I’m sure you’ve noticed he’s pretty boring, since almost all he talks about is Quidditch. I love the sport, but I can’t see making it the only subject I talk about. So, you with me, Harry?”
Harry’s pace picked up, as he felt a sense of urgency surge through him. He had no idea where the feeling had come from, but he enjoyed the boost of energy that accompanied it. A flash, stronger this time, had appeared in his peripheral vision, at the same time the urgent feeling had swept through him. The flash seemed to have a faint colour to it, but its duration was far too brief and too far to the side to have it be anything more than an impression.
Someone is waiting for me. I have to be somewhere soon.
He looked around. But why? There’s no one here. He shook his head. Doesn’t matter. This feels better than anything else I’ve felt here. His head jerked. What’s that?
Another movement in the fog — this time slightly to his right, so he saw it more clearly — caused Harry to again alter his course. The fog continued to fight his every movement, desperate to stop him from moving towards his goal
I felt something, almost like I was being pulled . . . but it was so faint. I’m not sure. It could have been my imagination again. I’m pretty sure I saw some colours, even though they were hazy. I think the main one was kind of gold or a soft yellow. There were other colours, but I’m not sure what they were.
The boy sped up again, despite the continuing resistance from the air surrounding him.
The girl continued to whisper, while watching the increasingly agitated boy fight the sheet and covers until they were a tangled mess.
She raced out of the room, soaked the wash cloth under the tap in the loo and sprinted back, laying the compress on Harry’s increasingly furrowed brow. She again laced her fingers through his and hoped he could feel the thoughts she was sending to him.
Harry felt more and more energy flowing through his body and his thinking became clearer. He laughed to himself. It’s almost like when I put my glasses on for the first time.
Ahhh! As he fought through the stifling murkiness, pain shot through his body.
Ginny saw her friend’s body stiffen and his mouth open, but no sound emerged.
Merlin, it feels like I’m being pulled through a hose or something.
Suddenly, his world seemed to expand as he emerged from that restricting channel. He gulped air, almost like he had been underwater all this time.
Ginny watched as Harry seemed to be fighting something unseen. She jumped when he started taking deep gulps of air.
Both felt an electrical shock surge through their bodies.
Harry stared at chocolate eyes, surrounded by a freckled face, and topped with flowing crimson hair that somehow seemed to be burnished with golden highlights.
Ginny stared at fathomless emerald eyes, for once not obscured by his glasses.
She leaned forward a very short distance, fighting her innate desire to hug the awakening boy.
He blinked several times, trying to absorb this new reality.
It’s Ginny. Why is she sitting next to the bed and looking so worried? Why am I lying in bed?
“Why . . .” the boy started to ask.
When the girl asked, “How . . .”
He nodded to her.
“How do you feel?” she asked quietly.
The question puzzled the boy. “I d . . . don’t know.” His eyes narrowed. “Why am I here, in bed?”
Ginny couldn’t hide her feeling of surprise. “You don’t know?” He shook his head and noticed that she looked upset. “You got caught in a prank Ron and the twins had set for me in the hallway.” She gestured towards the bedroom doorway, her expression still confused. “They put a Sticking Charm on the floor, and it set off a Colour Change Charm that turned you and your clothes pink. You don’t remember any of that?”
Harry closed his eyes. The memory slowly began to surface, first in disjointed snippets, then a continuous flow from start to finish. He remembered being furious, then nothing . . .
He wondered why the girl looked sad and worried. “I re . . . member now.”
“Harry, are you okay? You’re sweating.” Ginny had taken the compress off Harry’s forehead when he started to wake. “Want me to run cold water on this?”
She held up the wash cloth. He nodded, and she quickly went into the loo. After returning and placing the compress on his forehead, Ginny looked closely at her friend.
He still seems different, like he’s not all the way back. The light in his eyes is still missing.
Ginny grimaced and rubbed her stomach where a dull ache had developed.
“Did you want to talk about the prank?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. They got me. I’ll just have to watch them more carefully.”
The tone of Harry’s voice bothered Ginny even more than the words. It sounded cold to her, almost devoid of emotion. The realization of what could be happening stabbed at her. That’s how he’s acting, like he’s gone inside himself again.
“Well, if you want to discuss it,” she said quietly, “let me know.”
He nodded his head slightly. “I’m still tired. Do you mind if I try to sleep?” Without waiting for a reply, Harry turned on his side, facing away from the shocked girl.
She walked out without a word and went directly downstairs to talk with her parents.
Harry was reading Cunning Charms, one of the two books he had brought back from his family vault, when someone knocked on his door. He debated whether to respond or not, but finally said, “Come in.”
Three bodies edged inside the door, each looking so embarrassed the change in their complexions made their freckles almost blend together. Ron and the twins slowly walked into the bedroom, stopping well away from the bed. Harry noticed the twins’ usual energy level was way down, and Ron’s eyes seemed to be glued to the floor.
Harry stared at the three boys, fighting both his rising anger and a strange feeling of sadness.
I didn’t think they would be like the others.
“Harry, we’re really sorry.” Ron spoke first, which Harry thought was interesting, since the twins were older than Ron was.
“The prank was meant for Ginny, not you,” George said.
Harry looked at him with disgust.
George winced and Fred took over. “You know she turned our clothes pink. This was just payback. We set the charm when she walked up the stairs, but she turned around and came back down the stairs. You walked into the charm before we could reset it.”
George added. “Harry, we wouldn’t prank you unless you’d already got us. There’s no way we’d target you, and we’re really sorry about what happened.”
Harry looked at the three boys, knowing in his heart their apologies were sincere and their remorse genuine. But his head told him other things.
They knew he had gone upstairs.
The prank had been set for him.
They knew getting him would hurt and frustrate Ginny far more than pranking her.
Harry’s stomach lurched. This is worse than when Dudley would do something to me. With him, I knew he’d try. I never thought Ron and the twins would ever do that.
The boy nodded his head. “Th . . . that’s what I f . . . figured.” He resumed reading, as if the boys had already left the room. A few seconds later they did, closing the door behind them. As they headed downstairs, the click of the lock being turned echoed in the hallway.
When the three boys entered the kitchen, they found Ginny was already discussing the topic that concerned them.
“. . . just try to treat him as normally as possible.” Molly paused as her three sons walked into the kitchen.
George said, “We’re concerned, too.”
“We just apologized, and I think we got frostbite,” Fred said, with a frown.
Ron didn’t raise his eyes when he spoke. “He seemed so cold, kind of like he was when he got here.” He looked up. “He was stuttering again.”
Ginny and her parents winced at Ron’s remarks.
“Boys, please sit down,” their father said. “We need to discuss this.” He watched as his three sons took their usual places at the table. “First of all, your mother and I know things will sometimes go badly when family members prank one another. We know there was no malice intended towards Harry. Otherwise, any punishments you’ve received previously would have looked trivial by this one.”
He stared into each boy’s eyes and received three immediate confirmations.
“We need to discuss the best way to treat Harry. Ginny feels that he wouldn’t want a big deal made out of this, and we agree.” Arthur looked at his wife.
Molly continued. “But all of us,” she gestured at everyone sitting at the table, “have noticed that he’s acting differently now.”
Ron nodded. “It’s like he’s . . . more distant.”
Ginny spoke up. “I think he may be going back inside himself again. You know how he was treated at his relatives?” The boys nodded. “Well, he got through it by keeping who he really was hidden from them. We were seeing the real Harry in the last week here. With the prank . . . oh! Sorry I almost hexed you, George . . . anyhow, with the prank and Hogwarts tomorrow, I’m really worried that he will be quiet and not himself again.”
Ginny looked at her brothers with pleading eyes. “We need to get him out, but I won’t be there to help him, so it’s up to you.”
“Don’t worry, GinGin, we’ll watch out for him like we promised.” George smiled to reassure his sister.
Fred looked at their parents. “You want us to treat Harry like nothing happened, even when he’s cold or distant?”
Mr Weasley responded, “Exactly. You need to regain his trust. The best way to do that is to act like you’ve done before the incident, because that is what he responded to the first time. Your actions, your support will say everything that needs to be said. Ginny suggested that, and we think she’s right.”
Fred asked, “But if Harry asks questions, give him honest answers, right?”
Molly immediately answered, “Yes! Lying to Harry would lose his trust faster than anything I could think of.”
Ginny nodded her head vigorously. “I’m going to write him every day, so don’t get on him for writing me.” She stared directly at each of her brothers.
All three grinned nervously. Fred laughed weakly. “The last thing we want to see is you at Hogwarts, with your new wand out, and the Bat Bogey Hex on your lips.”
Ginny smiled. “And don’t you forget it.”
Mr Weasley looked at his family members. “Everyone knows what to do?” After a chorus of ‘yes,’ he smiled. “We knew we could count on you three. Oh, that reminds me. Percy and I had a similar conversation right after we left Harry’s room, so he knows what you’ll be doing.”
Mrs Weasley finished the conversation. “We all knew there would be an adjustment for Harry when he went to Hogwarts. The poor boy has so much to deal with — his fame, the unwanted attention he will receive, adjusting to wizarding life, new people, and attending a new school. I know we can count on you boys to help him through this.”
Each of the boys swallowed hard, knowing their mum had just given them an order, not a compliment.
“We will.”
“Don’t worry, Mum.”
“We’ll watch out for him.”
“Good!” Mrs Weasley’s demeanour changed instantly. “Now, are your trunks all packed and ready to go? I do not want a mad house when we want to leave tomorrow morning.”
Fred turned to his twin. “Wouldn’t hurt to double check.”
“Excellent idea, mirror of myself,” George agreed, and they got up from the table.
Ron knew better than to say anything and joined the twins in quickly leaving the kitchen before their mum could get rolling on her ‘leaving things until the last minute’ speech.
Soon after Ginny went upstairs, Molly took a pinch of powder from the bowl on the mantel of the kitchen fireplace. “Minerva McGonagall, Hogwarts,” she said, and she moved her head into the green flames.
“Molly? Is anything wrong?” The tartan-robed Deputy Headmistress asked and leaned forward in anticipation of the answer.
“Minerva, I’m sorry to say Harry got caught in a prank not meant for him. He seems to have returned to his old personality. We’re not sure how much or how long it will last, but he is no longer the boy you taught just a few days ago.”
The professor gasped, her hand moving to cover her mouth. “Is he alright physically?”
“Yes. Arthur checked thoroughly. It’s the emotional part we’re concerned about. Ron and the twins used a Sticking Charm that stopped Harry in the hallway by the upstairs loo, and that set off a Colour Change Charm that turned him pink — his hair, his skin and his clothes.”
Molly stopped at the harsh intake of air from the professor.
“Harry apparently got very upset and literally exploded out of the charms. We found him sitting on the floor in the debris, staring at nothing with blank eyes and no emotion whatsoever. He was rocking back and forth.”
“Oh, Merlin,” Minerva whispered. “He will have enough to contend with at school. I thought he had made such marvellous progress. Has he gone all the back to the state he was in when we brought him to you?”
“No, not that bad, but similar.” Molly took a deep breath. “We told the boys to treat him as if everything was normal, to let their actions show their support.”
The professor nodded her head. “Yes. I think that is a good approach.” Her features sharpened. “It would have to happen the night before they come here. I will watch Harry closely to make sure he is not getting overwhelmed.”
“Our four boys will help, too. Harry’s developed relationships with each of them, even Percy, and they will help watch him and try to keep the more aggressive students away from him.”
Minerva nodded. “His reception here is now a bigger issue. Am I right in thinking we need to be concerned about his anger manifesting itself?”
“I’m afraid so. As Arthur said, it’s a concern that Harry exploded, rather than just laughing about the prank.”
Minerva paused for a few moments. “I will be continuing his wandless lessons. I could work anger management into the activities and give him opportunities to get some of the anger out of his system. I’ll keep you informed. Oh, how has Ginny been taking all of this?”
Mrs Weasley said, “She was ready to curse her three brothers. After she calmed down, she whispered to Harry for a long time, trying to bring him back. They agreed earlier to write each other every day. I hope he’ll do that. I think it will help.”
“You’re right, Molly. They did seem to get along quite well.” The professor sighed, then her usual professional demeanour returned. “Despite the disappointing news, there still are a number of positive elements.” She smiled. “You and your children chief among them. We’ll get through this. I’ll advise Albus in the morning.” Her voice softened. “Accidents happen. It sounds like you’ve done everything you can to help him back.”
“Thanks, Minerva. If there are any changes, I’ll fire call tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Molly. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Minerva.” Molly Weasley pulled out of the fire, a tired and very sad expression on her face.
Distant thunder woke Harry up the next morning. He grabbed his glasses from the nearby desk and looked around the room, his forehead furrowed.
Where am I? Oh, The Burrow. Why do I feel so weird?
His stomach plummeted.
Ron and the twins. He exhaled sharply. They pranked me to get back at Ginny. Merlin, I feel . . . numb.
Harry swung his legs to get out of bed. His breath caught in his chest.
Ohhh. My muscles ache. They’re so sore and heavy.
He sat on the edge of the bed, taking deep breaths and hoping the feeling of nausea would pass quickly. Sweat beaded on his forehead and gathered on his shoulders and upper back. Soon the moisture began dripping down his back.
I can’t feel this way again. I don’t want to be like that again. It’s like something’s all around me, holding me back. Oh God, I have to go to Hogwarts today.
The boy’s body slumped. The sweat was now saturating his pyjamas, and his breath came in short, shallow gulps. The room started to move and his head became dizzy, like he was going to pass out.
I’ve got to calm down. I can’t go to Hogwarts like this. I can’t feel this way.
“Harry?” a soft, feminine voice came to him, accompanied by a light tap-tap-tap on his door. Without waiting for a response, the door opened, and Ginny looked into the room.
As soon as her eyes locked onto Harry’s, she darted across the room. The two children launched themselves at each other in a desperate hug. Ginny instinctively began to rub Harry’s back and whisper reassuring words in his ear.
“You can do this, Harry . . . You’re going to be fine . . . I’ve talked with my brothers, and the prank was for me, not you. They wouldn’t do that to you . . . You’ve gotta believe that . . . Don’t let the past pull you down . . . You’re so strong, Harry . . . You can do this . . . I know you can . . .”
Harry’s breathing began to even out and deepen. He could feel his body begin to relax, as he let Ginny’s words wash over him. Finally, he pulled back and looked into his friend’s eyes. What he saw jolted him.
Ginny’s crying . . . She’s scared . . . Oh, God, she’s scared for me.
“Gin, it’s okay. I’ll be okay. Please don’t cry.”
He began to rub her back, and he felt her lean into him, giving in to her emotions. After long minutes, Ginny’s sobs and the tears that dampened his pyjama top began to slow down. Her breathing became calmer. Finally, only spasmodic hiccoughs remained.
Then, giggles?
Ginny leaned back, a widening smile on her face, and she playfully tapped her totally confused friend on the shoulder.
“I’m supposed to be helping you feel better,” she said in a light, teasing voice, “and here you are helping me. Some patient you are, Mr Potter.”
The two children grinned at each other. Stepping back from their hug, they sat on Harry’s bed.
“What happened?” Ginny asked.
Harry concentrated, trying to find the words to express the feelings that had come over him. “I felt like I did when I got here.” Ginny gasped at the confirmation of what she had feared. “It was like some kind of wall was around me, and I was stuck inside. Does that make any sense?”
Ginny nodded her head. “Yeah. Remember when we talked after you first got here?” Harry thought for a moment, then nodded his head. “It seemed like the same thing was happening again, just not as bad.”
“That’s what scared me,” Harry said fervently. “I don’t want to feel like that. I hate it. It reminds me of my relatives,” he deflated, “and what I had to do there. You know?”
“Yeah, I know.” She squeezed their already entwined hands. “You know this is different, right? No one in our family wants to hurt you.”
“I know.” He exhaled, almost sadly. “But I still feel . . . I don’t know . . . angry? . . . Like I have to watch them . . . I can feel something around me.” He looked at his friend. “I’m sorry. It’s like I know,” he tapped his head, “but I still feel some of that old way.” He put his hand near his heart.
Ginny nodded her head. “It’ll probably take a little while to feel better, so you trust them again. They know that, and they’re still going to do everything they promised you.” A smile broke through her serious mien. “That’s what families do, Mr Potter.”
Harry took a deep breath, followed closely by Ginny doing the same. “Breakfast?” he asked.
“I’m starving,” the petite redhead replied. “This is hard work, but I think my job is done here.”
“C’mon, then. I’m surprised you can’t hear my stomach growling.” Harry stood up.
Ginny did the same and bumped his shoulder. “So that’s what that noise was.”
Fingers interlaced, and the two children went downstairs, feeling much better.
Harry stopped as Ginny and he entered the kitchen. The four Weasley brothers were already seated at the table, and all were staring at them. Harry felt heat building up inside of him, along with a damp feeling on his forehead.
Ginny led Harry to their usual places at the table, as he fought the numb feeling that was threatening to turn him into an unmoving statue.
George looked directly at him. “Harry, if we could get a time-turner, we’d go back and eliminate that prank.” Harry’s eyes widened at the mention of a time-turner.
“We would never prank someone who hasn’t pranked us before . . .” Fred explained.
“. . . well, except if someone really deserved it,” George added.
“Which you didn’t,” Fred clarified.
Ron rolled his eyes. “Harry, what these clowns are trying to say is that we’re really sorry.”
As much as he wanted to accept the apology and forget about the prank, Harry couldn’t eliminate all of the hurt and disappointment he was still feeling. “It’s okay.” But his words were colder than he had hoped, and he saw the three boys react with brief expressions of sadness.
“We’ll still watch out for you at school,” Ron said.
“Especially at the beginning, when there’ll be a lot of attention,” George commented and Fred nodded.
Percy offered, “As a prefect, I’ll help any way I can, Harry. You can come to me anytime you have a problem.”
Harry knew the twins particularly were being serious, because they didn’t take the opportunity to take the mickey out of Percy.
“Thanks, guys,” Harry replied, his voice somewhat warmer than his previous response.
After the quick breakfast, Harry made his bed, showered, and got dressed, reassured by Ginny’s words but still fighting that isolated, almost queasy feeling. The frenzied activity that always marked the day of departure at The Burrow swirled around him. Harry rechecked everything in his trunk, including putting the Cunning Charms book where he could easily get to it during the trip to Hogwarts.
Assured that everything was packed, Harry levitated the trunk down the stairs and set it down by the front door. Then he raced back upstairs to talk to his familiar. He held his arm out to Hedwig, and she flew over, lightly landing on his arm and looking at him curiously.
“Hedwig, I’m going to leave you with Ginny today, so she can send a letter to me after she and her parents return from the train station.” The owl bobbed her head, and Harry stoked the feathers along her back. “We’re going to write every day, so you’ll be flying between here and Hogwarts a lot. Would you like that?” Hedwig swelled up at the question, indicating she was more than capable of doing that. “Good. I knew you’d like that,” and he scratched the top of her head between her ears.
“Harry, are you ready?” Ron stood in the doorway, his trunk on the repaired hallway floor behind him and Scabbers held tightly in his hand.
Hedwig screeched and launched herself at the boy’s hand. Ron instinctively ducked and pulled his hand, with Scabbers in it, towards his chest, protecting it with his other hand. Hedwig veered over Ron’s shoulder, somehow wheeled around in the tight confines of the hallway, landed on Ron’s shoulder, and squawked at the rat.
Harry’s shout of “Hedwig!” was drowned by Ron’s colourful string of accusations.
Harry moved quickly to Ron and looked straight into Hedwig’s eyes, shocked by what he could only describe as a feeling of hate.
“C’mon, Hedwig. Calm down. It’s only Scabbers.” He held out his arm. Hedwig screeched one more time, then stepped onto Harry’s arm, her head held high.
Harry put the owl into her cage and for the first time slid the metal bolt, which locked the door. Hedwig continued to stare at the grey rat, while Harry pulled two owl treats from the box. “You have to leave him alone, Hedwig. He’s Ron’s pet, not something to eat.”
Harry nearly jumped backwards when Hedwig whipped her head around and stared at him with an unfathomable expression in her eyes. “Here, have these.” He poked the treats through the cage bars.
“S . . . sorry, Ron.” Harry’s stomach was still flip-flopping. This really isn’t what we needed this morning.
Ron looked warily from Harry to Hedwig. “Yeah, okay. It’s really weird, isn’t it?” Ron shook his head. “Well, we should get downstairs, I guess.”
Ron left his trunk next to Harry’s and sprinted back upstairs, saying he needed to check one last time. Ginny walked into the sitting room and sat next to Harry on the sofa. She could see her best friend was still in the throes of the prank gone bad, but she took some solace in the fact that he looked better than he had this morning when they talked in his bedroom.
She laid her hand on his. “I know this is so hard for you, Harry, but you can do it. I know you’re concerned about all the changes you’re going through, the new life, magic, what you can and can’t do, what Dumbledore and McGonagall have said and done. But Harry, you’re not alone. I’ll write you every day, just like we promised . . .”
Harry gazed at his friend, trying to believe her words and let them fill the gaping hole he felt in his stomach. “I guess I’m just scared about what is going to happen, how people will look at me, what they’ll say.”
Mr Weasley came in from loading the car and saw his daughter and Harry sitting on the sofa, talking softly, holding hands.
I wish I could be at school for Harry. But that’s not possible. Ron, Percy, and the twins will help, and Ginny said she’ll write every day. Minerva will watch over him, and hopefully the headmaster will be able to develop a better relationship. Still, it will be a hard adjustment for the boy.
He walked over to the two children and knelt in front of them. “How are you doing, lad?”
Harry’s first instinct was to say ‘fine,’ but he knew that wouldn’t be honest. More importantly, he knew Mr Weasley deserved a better answer.
“I’m feeling better . . . I’m kinda scared about what it will be like.” The boy took a deep breath, and the beseeching look in his eyes almost caused Arthur Weasley’s heart to lurch.
“That’s understandable, son. It’s all new, isn’t it?” Harry nodded. “Remember when we talked before? Most first years are feeling the same way you are. It’s a new experience for all of you. Ron will be in all of your classes, and the other three will be there as much as they can.” The man leaned forward slowly and whispered. “That should provide you with lots of opportunities to prank them. I’m sure you and Ginny can come up with something appropriate.”
Ginny laughed and a smile spread across Harry’s face. In the next second, he was in the man’s arms and hugging him tightly.
“Thanks, Mr Weasley,” he whispered.
“Harry, never, ever forget that you’re an important member of our family. Okay, lad?”
“Okay. I’ll try my hardest.”
The man and the boy separated and smiled at each other. “We’d better get going if we’re to arrive on time. Let’s move Harry’s trunk to the car.”
While Mr Weasley went upstairs to roust the remaining members of the family, Harry walked over to his trunk, popped the handle and wheels, and pulled it outside toward the car. The boot was open, so when he arrived at the car, Harry collapsed the handle and wheels, then levitated the trunk into the boot, settling it between the trunks already there.
Ginny had followed him out, her hand holding his tightly, watching his every movement with concern, and staring open-mouthed when he easily levitated the heavy trunk with a flick of his hand. When Harry got into the back seat of the Anglia, amazed at the amount of space the small car had inside. Ginny sat next to him and resumed her whispered encouragement.
Those were hardly the only words spoken during the trip, as Fred and George told one Hogwarts story after another, including horror tales about the Sorting Ceremony. Harry noticed that Percy raised his eyebrows at several of the twins’ more outlandish statements, but the new prefect never contradicted his younger brothers.
The Ford feverishly weaved its way through the London traffic, confirming Harry’s thoughts that the car was ‘magical’ in some ways. Since they were running late, Mr Weasley dropped the rest of the family as close to the station as possible, then drove off to find a parking place. Mrs Weasley briskly moved the boys through the Muggles at King’s Cross. When they stopped in front of a wide brick pillar, Harry looked for a sign with 9 on it.
Mrs Weasley smiled. “Harry, Ron, just approach the barrier at a good speed and you will go right through. That will bring you up to Platform 9 . Just watch Percy and the twins.”
Sure enough, the three boys disappeared through the brick barrier as if it weren’t there. Ron shrugged his shoulders and did as Mrs Weasley had instructed and was quickly followed by Ginny. Mrs Weasley put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. He flinched but tried to hide it by turning towards her.
“Harry, I really appreciate that you are going to write Ginny and tell her about your lessons, so she can follow along. Percy already has given her all the books for the classes, and she’s so excited.” Mrs Weasley’s face became more serious. “I think you know Ginny’s going to miss you terribly. You two seem to have become very good friends.”
Harry could feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up his neck and onto his cheeks. “She’s my b . . . best friend, Mrs Weasley. I’ll miss her, too.”
Molly eyes suddenly began to sparkle. “Especially your midnight flying?”
Harry goggled at the witch. “You knew?”
“Of course, dear. Nothing happens at The Burrow that I don’t know about. When we drive home, I’ll tell Ginny it’s okay to fly during the day. You two are excellent flyers, by the way. Be sure to write her. Okay, Harry?”
Harry nodded vigorously. “I will, Mrs Weasley.”
She smiled. “I know you will, dear.” She wrapped her arms around the small boy. “We’ll miss you.” She gave him a last squeeze before stepping back. “Time to get you on the train.”
Harry aimed the trolley at the brick barrier, and despite seeing Ginny and her brothers easily move through it, the complete lack of resistance still startled him when the trolley met the faade. Seconds later, Harry stood stock still, transfixed by all that was happening around him. Across the platform, a gleaming red steam engine and a line of passenger and baggage cars stood along the tracks. Between the barrier and the train were literally hundreds of witches, wizards, and their children, plus some Muggles, too, he thought. All seemed to be talking at once.
A numb feeling swept over Harry.
I don’t belong here. Look at all these people. They all look like they’re comfortable, like this is no big deal.
He could feel his breathing speed up, and a light-headed feeling buzzed around his head.
As he stood there, Harry began to notice that several adults had looked at him in passing then their head would snap back, their eyes moving to his forehead. He rearranged his fringe so it would cover his scar better.
More people glanced his way, then would whisper something, and other people in their group would look over in what they thought was a subtle manner.
Harry began to feel angry, as the stares and whispers became more obvious.
I don’t think I can do this.
A reassuring warmth entered his hand, moved up his arm, and quickly spread throughout the rest of his body.
He looked over and saw a determined look in Ginny’s eyes that also was so caring it made his breath hitch.
“You can do this, Harry,” she whispered. “Whenever you begin to doubt that, think of me. Okay?”
The small boy straightened up as much as his height would allow him. He nodded. “Okay.” He looked at his best friend. “You know I’m really going to miss you. I’ll write about what’s happening and all the classes and lessons.”
Ginny smiled. “I’ll write when we get back to The Burrow. I’ll ask Hedwig to deliver the letter tonight.”
“Good.” He smiled back. “I’ll be looking for it.”
The two children had been walking towards the other family members, when Mrs Weasley’s words cut through their cocoon.
“You’d better get your trunks on board, boys, before all the compartments are taken.”
The five boys immediately moved towards the train. Percy led the way. The twins dropped their trunks off with friends, then they and their prefect brother helped Ron and Harry find an empty compartment. The three older boys hoisted Ron and Harry’s trunks onto the overhead shelves, then turned to the two first-years.
Percy spoke first, “We’ll meet you when we arrive at Hogsmeade Station. If anything comes up before that, I will be in one of the two front cabins with the other prefects.” Percy’s eyes stayed with Harry for several extra beats, and the young boy nodded back at him. Percy smiled briefly. “Enjoy your first trip but please behave yourselves.” He nodded and walked up the aisle.
“Normally we’d suggest several ways to not behave yourselves . . .” Fred began.
“. . . but as much as it pains us to say this . . .” George continued.
“Percy’s probably right this time,” Fred concluded.
“We’re just the third compartment up. Get us if you need to,” George said.
The twins saluted and left to join their friends.
Ron said, “We still have some time. We could say goodbye to Mum, Dad, and Ginny if you want.”
Harry nodded and followed him back to the platform. Mrs and Mr Weasley and Ginny were standing close to the train, all with expectant expressions. Ron walked over to his parents, while Ginny went to Harry.
“I’ll write when I get back home today. Please be okay, Harry. I know you can do it.”
Harry leaned imperceptibly towards her and whispered, “This past month has been the best time in my life. Thanks for everything, Gin.”
He heard a sharp intake of air and looked at his friend. Her eyes glistened, but he saw her first full smile of the day. The two children exploded into each other and held tight.
“I’ll miss you,” he whispered.
“I’ll miss you more,” she replied, with a giggle.
They finally released the hug and stepped back grinning.
Harry looked at Mrs Weasley, who gave him a hopeful smile. He walked over and leaned into her, instantly being surrounded by one of her maternal hugs. “You’ll be fine, Harry,” she murmured but he could hear her sniffles. She stepped back and smiled. “I know you’ll make us proud.”
Mr Weasley had been waiting patiently as Harry said goodbye to his wife and daughter. When Harry took the few steps towards him, the man kneeled down and welcomed his newest son into his arms. “Don’t hold back at Hogwarts, lad. You’ll quickly find out you’re much more prepared than most other first years. Plus, you have lots of people there who care for you. Will you do me a favour?” Harry nodded his head against the man’s shoulder. “Let me know what Professor McGonagall says about your House ideas.”
Harry moved back a small step so he could look at the wizard. “I will.”
He raised his hand, and the man mirrored his action. The two hands merged, small being surrounded by the larger one. Harry squeezed tightly and closed his eyes, again feeling something filling the empty space left by the passing of his parents.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“Always, son,” the man replied.
The whistle blew.
Harry felt a jolt shoot through his body. This is it.
Ginny’s face fell. “It’s time to go.”
He smiled sadly. “I’ll write.”
Ginny nodded and squeezed his hand, too afraid to say anything.
“Good luck, Harry,” both Mr and Mrs Weasley wished.
Harry walked quickly to the train, but turned back while standing on the first step into the car. He caught Ginny’s eye. “I’ll miss you most,” he said, grinning, and disappeared into the car.
Ginny grinned back at her best friend.
Moments later, the train began to move slowly out of the magical station. Ginny, her mum, and her dad waved goodbye until the train disappeared around the curve.
Harry Potter was going to Hogwarts.
While the Hogwarts Express wound its way towards Hogsmeade Station, Albus Dumbledore conducted his first meeting of the new school year with his professors. He had arrived at the last item on his agenda.
“As you no doubt know, we have a unique student joining us this year . . .”
Under his breath, Severus Snape spat out, “Potter,” as if he were cursing.
Albus shook his head. “Yes, Severus, Harry Potter will be attending Hogwarts this year, and I will expect you to treat him with the same respect you do all your other students.”
“Of course, Headmaster,” the Potions Master replied silkily.
Filius Flitwick laughed. “Albus, perhaps we would be better served if Severus treated all of our students, including Mr Potter, like he treats those in his own House.”
Snape sneered, while the other professors made agreeing comments.
Dumbledore briefly closed his eyes. “Returning to the last agenda item, Harry Potter possesses a number of sometimes contradictory qualities. He can be painfully shy, to the point of being tongue-tied, yet he has a fiery temper. He just learned he was a wizard a month ago, yet he is one of the most powerful students I have seen.”
Snape’s head snapped up, and he looked at the headmaster in a questioning manner. Dumbledore understood the unasked question and briefly nodded his head in the professor’s direction.
“Minerva and I have witnessed some of his abilities and worked with Mr Potter over the last month, and while I am extremely hesitant to mention one of his abilities, we have agreed it is appropriate. Somehow, Mr Potter is able to do wandless magic at a very high level.”
Flitwick clapped his hands. “He’s obviously a Ravenclaw. Oh, this will be so much fun.”
McGonagall shot the short professor a look that would petrify a less positive person.
Albus smiled at the byplay between the two professors. “The reason we decided to inform you of Harry’s wandless abilities is that we do not want them to become public. We’ve asked Harry to honour our request, and he is doing so very reluctantly. We need you to help ensure that he follows our dictates. Minerva will continue working one-on-one with the young man, as they explore the outer reaches of his abilities. We have asked Harry to not make this ability public simply because he is going to attract enough attention due to his fame.”
When Severus Snape rolled his eyes, Albus added one last topic for discussion. “It should be unnecessary for me to state this, but the Harry Potter I’ve come to know in the past month may look like the spitting image of his father — except he has Lily’s eyes — but he is amazingly different in personality. Harry is exceedingly smart. I expect he will be among the top students in his year. He is usually very quiet. He is extremely sensitive to the attention he receives, and it makes him uncomfortable. None of these qualities would apply to James Potter, so please don’t equate the two because they share the same last name and facial features.”
Albus smiled at his professors. “Would you like Minerva to describe some of the exercises she had Harry doing?”
The response confirmed his suspicions. “Minerva, if you would?”
“Of course, Albus. As you might know, we moved Harry to the Weasleys’ when we found irregularities in his care at his relatives’ house. This was done on July 31st. Molly Weasley fire called the next day to inform me that Harry had levitated and moved dishes from the table to the sink after watching her do it once. He did not have a wand and did not know the incantation.”
“Non-verbal, Min?”
“Yes, Filius. And it gets better.
“I tested him, and it wasn’t a fluke. He has a natural ability to use his magic. I’ll provide just one example. It occurred just several days ago. I was Disillusioned.” She looked quickly at Albus and he nodded his concurrence. “Harry’s task was to find and disable me. I had worked my way behind him and to his left. In the next split second, I was knocked out and he had my wand.”
Minerva smiled at the collective gasp that came from her colleagues and held up her hand to stem the questions that were on the tip of each tongue.
“Harry told me later that he had heard the movement of my robes. More importantly, he had cast two non-verbal spells almost instantaneously, one with his left hand and the second with his right . . . at a Disillusioned target.” She smiled at the overwhelmed reaction of the staff. “Now you know why we want to keep these abilities secret.”
“Thank you, Minerva,” the headmaster said graciously. “Thank you, everyone, for attending. This promises to be a very interesting year for Hogwarts.”
Harry sat in an otherwise empty compartment, since Ron had left not long after the Hogwarts Express had departed King’s Cross.
“I forgot a few shirts,” he apologized. “I’ll see if they ended up in one of the twins’ trunks. Okay?”
Harry looked up from his Cunning Charms book and nodded. He wasn’t angry with Ron or the twins any longer. But he knew something inside him still held him back from trusting the three boys like he did before. It would take a while longer for that comfortable feeling to return.
Even though he was focusing on the book, Harry could see students slow down or stop in front of his compartment. If their gawking wasn’t bad enough, the students’ comments were loud enough for him to hear. Harry was strongly tempted to cast a Silencing Charm and also see if his book had a spell that would obscure the windows in the compartment, so he could hide from these people.
“That’s Harry Potter.”
“Did you see his scar?”
“Why did he arrive with the Weasleys?”
“I heard he stayed part of the summer with them.”
“Really scrawny, isn’t he?”
“That’s the Boy Who Lived?”
With each student’s stare or comment, Harry got more upset. What’s the big deal? I’m only a boy, not some superhero. Is everyone on the train going to walk by and stare?
Ron returned and sat on the seat opposite Harry. “Crikey. It’s hot in here,” he said, wiping his forehead. “Oh.” Understanding dawned on the redhead. “You okay?”
Harry grimaced, but hearing Ron’s words prompted him to start breathing deeply and try to get his boiling emotions under control. I can’t explode like I did in Dumbledore’s office.
Ron seemed to relax, as the temperature in the compartment began to decrease. “Lots of comments, eh?” Harry nodded. “I must have been stopped a dozen times coming back from the twins’. Oh, I found the shirts I was missing.” He held up two white dress shirts.
As Ron pulled down his trunk and stuffed the shirts in it, Harry returned to the Charms book he’d brought from his Family vault.
Harry had completed several chapters, when a knocking sound pulled him from his reading. He looked up and saw Ron gazing open-mouthed towards the doorway to their compartment. Harry followed Ron’s line of sight.
Two girls smiled back at him.
The two girls looked about as opposite as two people could. Harry figured they were at least a year or two older than Ron and he and wondered why they had stopped at their compartment.
One of the girls was tall and slender, with large bright blue eyes and long blond hair. The second girl was shorter, probably around Harry’s height, but not as slender as the blond girl. Her mahogany-coloured hair hung past her shoulders, and she had almond-shaped green eyes but darker than Harry’s.
Harry nodded his head in a way he hoped acknowledged their presence, not trusting his voice to work.
The dark-haired witch smiled and said, “We just wanted to come by and say ‘hi.’ It will be our first year at Hogwarts, so we’ve been trying to meet everyone. Oh, I’m Tracey Davis.”
The blond girl shifted slightly so she now stood in front of Tracey. “And my name is Daphne Greengrass.”
While Harry tried to figure out why Daphne’s name sounded familiar, Ron introduced himself.
“Hi, I’m Ron Weasley.”
Three sets of eyes turned to Harry. He felt a blush immediately start burning his cheeks and forehead.
“I’m Harry Potter,” he said, relieved his voice hadn’t cracked. Then, he remembered why the tall girl’s name was familiar. “The Gr . . . Greengrass family is on my Family tree.”
Daphne nodded. “If you go back far enough, you’ll find many of the pure-blood and half-blood families are related. Well, we just wanted to drop by and say hello. It was nice to meet both of you. I’m sure we’ll see you around, even if we’re not in the same house.”
“Thanks for coming by,” Ron said.
Harry couldn’t get rid of the feeling the only reason they had come by was to gawk and be able to say they had talked with him, even though it made him uncomfortable to think that way.
This is a lot worse than I thought it would be. When McGonagall and Dumbledore told me I’d be noticed, I didn’t think people would stop and point and talk out loud about me. Don’t they know that’s really rude? Do they think I’m like some animal in a cage at the zoo? I hate all of this attention. I wonder if I’m making a mistake going to Hogwarts. Can I just tell them I’m not interested in learning magic?
The familiar emptiness returned to his stomach. The boy shook his head and seemed to sag into himself.
I wonder if it will be impossible to get close to anyone at Hogwarts, like I did with Ginny.
The sound of the compartment door opening interrupted Harry’s swirling thoughts. He glanced at the three boys who had entered. The shortest had white blond hair that was combed straight back. He had sharp features, a rather pointed nose, and projected a very superior attitude. Two of the largest boys Harry had ever seen — even bigger than Dudley — stood behind the smaller boy. Their blocky, unrefined features and dull expressions almost caused Harry to laugh out loud.
Harry immediately felt a strong dislike for the blond boy, when he sensed a dark presence just below the surface. His eyes instinctively narrowed, when the stranger started speaking.
“So the rumours are true. Harry Potter is coming to Hogwarts. I wanted to introduce myself. My name is Draco Malfoy.”
The boy continued talking, something about some families being superior to others, but Harry had already tuned him out. The words confirmed the dark feelings Harry had sensed, and he remembered Ron saying something about the Malfoys’ superior attitude.
When the boy put his hand out, Harry almost jumped, thinking Malfoy was about to hit him. When the movement stopped, he could tell the boy just wanted to shake hands. Harry wanted nothing to do with Malfoy, so he ignored the outstretched hand. Until . . .
“You’re making a huge mistake, Potter, associating with blood-traitors like the Weasleys,” the blond sneered. “You’ll meet the same sticky end your parents . . .”
In a split second, Harry had jumped out of the seat and pushed his hands towards Malfoy, sending the boy crashing into the two huge lumps behind him, and ending with all three slumped against the far wall in the corridor. Harry slammed the door closed.
Only then did he notice how hot it was in the compartment and Ron gawking at him, open-mouthed.
“That was wicked! Did you use a wandless spell?” the redhead finally asked.
“No, I just shoved him. He must have tripped.”
Harry shrugged and sat down, hoping Ron wouldn’t pursue how someone his size could send three boys, two of them almost adult-sized, flying across the corridor.
Ron’s next question was interrupted by Malfoy’s blazing look and warning. “You’ll pay for this, Potter. Nobody treats a Malfoy like that and gets away with it.”
All three boys stared at Harry, in what he assumed was supposed to be an intimidating manner, then they stalked off down the hallway.
Ron smirked. “Looks like you made a new friend. Remember how I told you about the Malfoys being blood purists? Now, you’ve seen exactly what I was talking about.”
Ron looked at Harry, expecting a response. But when there was none, he shrugged his shoulders and looked out the window. Harry’s thoughts had gone in a different direction.
I don’t fit in anywhere. The second person I meet is already mad at me. Why does almost everyone hate me? It doesn’t matter whether they’re magic or Muggle. I create problems wherever I am.
The trip continued uninterrupted, with Harry reading the Charms book and Ron reluctantly eating a corned beef sandwich, until a young girl barged into the compartment, shattering the previous calm. Harry jumped, while Ron looked at the brunette with a mixture of curiosity and irritation.
“Have you seen a toad? One of the other boys lost his,” she explained as an after-thought. Harry stared at the girl, very uncomfortable with her abrupt appearance and her strong personality.
Both boys shook their head.
The girl started to leave, then she did a double-take, her eyes fixed on Harry’s scar.
“You’re Harry Potter.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed. He couldn’t believe how rude this girl was, first coming into the compartment uninvited, then staring at him and telling him something he obviously knew.
He ignored the bushy-haired girl and resumed reading.
“Well, that’s rude,” she huffed and left the compartment.
Ron shook his head. “That one’s mental, she is.”
He looked up and nodded, relieved that she had left without causing further commotion.
The rest of the trip went by uneventfully, and an hour later, the Hogwarts Express pulled into the train station at Hogsmeade.
As soon as Ginny arrived at home, she ran upstairs to her room. After shutting her door, she pulled out several sheets of her new parchment, her new ink, and the new eagle feather quill. The ink she selected was green, and all of the presents had come from Harry Potter, her best friend, and the boy she was writing to.
I want the letter to be happy. So how do I let Harry know that I miss him and that I have a hole in my stomach already? Those aren’t happy subjects. I probably should ask him about the train ride, if he’s met anyone, and how the Sorting and Welcoming Feast went.
The decision made, Ginny started her letter.
As soon as the train stopped, Ron said, “Just leave your trunk. They’ll be brought to our dorm rooms once we’re Sorted.”
Within moments, they were joined by Percy, George, and Fred.
Percy spoke first, “First years take boats across the lake from the station to the castle. It provides a very spectacular introduction to the school. The other students take carriages. The Hogwarts’ Gamekeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, will assemble all the first years and take them across the lake. You won’t have any problems identifying Hagrid, even in this crowd.” He looked from Harry to Ron. “Do you have any questions? No, then I will lead you out. Fred, George please stand on either side of Harry and Ron. Let’s go.”
As they bumped their way up the corridor towards the exit doors, Fred leaned in and whispered, “What’s really scary is that was Percy being nice.”
A similar voice from the other side added, “We still think he’s a bit of a stuffed shirt, though.”
By that time, the five young wizards had stepped onto the Hogsmeade platform and moved off to the side. Percy turned and addressed Ron and Harry in a low voice.
“As a prefect, I shouldn’t show bias towards any House, but I am hopeful that you will be Sorted into Gryffindor. Good luck to both of you.”
“We’ll save places at the Gryffindor table.” Both twins grinned.
“Can’t travel anywhere without an entourage, Scarhead?” The whinging drawl was immediately identifiable. “Too bad you picked from the bottom of the barrel.”
Harry decided the best way to deal with the sharp-featured boy was to ignore him. He did notice a number of students who had heard the blond’s comments were shaking their heads and muttering about his lack of class.
New prefect Percy Weasley wasn’t about to let the transgression pass, even if it had been committed before school had officially started. He marched up to the first year.
“What’s your name?” Percy demanded in a very irritated tone.
The boy looked Percy up and down. “I would think someone of your low position would know their betters. You’re obviously a Weasley — red hair, second hand robes, travel in a pack. I’m amazed you don’t know a Malfoy when you see one, but then again, we don’t travel in the same circles, do we?”
Draco Malfoy missed the reaction of the person he insulted. He also failed to notice the large and highly polished Prefect’s Badge on that person’s immaculate robes. The boy thought he was playing to a crowd that would appreciate his superior attitude and rapier wit.
He was wrong.
The comments from the crowd — “What a loser” . . . “Hope he isn’t Sorted into my House” . . . “What a horrible first impression he’s made” . . . “I bet half the school heard that git’s comments” . . . — nearly drowned out Percy’s response.
“Mr Malfoy, twenty-five points will be deducted from whichever House is unfortunate to get you. I also will strongly recommend to your Head of House that you be placed on a week’s detention.”
Malfoy sneered, “You can’t do that to me. Who do you think you are?”
“I, Mr Malfoy, am a prefect. Any more backtalk from you will result in more points being taken from your house.”
“Percy, you were too nice to the snob,” Penelope Clearwater said emphatically. “Another fifteen points for shockingly poor behaviour by a first year on his first day.”
“And another ten for being disrespectful to a prefect,” chimed in a third prefect who had overheard the diatribe.
Percy looked around, a small smile on his face. “Okay. Show’s over. First years, please go to the large man at the end of the train. Everyone else, to the carriages, please.”
When the new students turned in mass towards the end of the train, a collective gasp arose from the eleven-year olds, as their eyes locked on undoubtedly the biggest person they had seen in their lives. The first years bunched together after seeing Hagrid, making Harry feel very claustrophobic.
Harry, along with the other new students, started moving towards the big man when he waved his enormous hand and shouted, “Firs years, over here.”
“Whoa!” Ron uttered when he caught sight of the groundskeeper standing by the far end of the train, waving his hand.
To Harry, the man looked exactly the same as when he had visited Hogwarts with Professor McGonagall. Hagrid’s hair was still longish and coal black, with a matching beard that covered almost his entire face. All Harry could see were the giant’s eyes, nose, and mouth.
As they walked towards the end of the train, Harry noticed the other first years stayed away from Draco Malfoy, including the two big lumps that had accompanied him on their visit on the train. Some of the students pointed at Malfoy and whispered, which made Harry laugh to himself at the irony of the situation. Malfoy looked sullen and very angry, with red blotches discolouring his cheeks.
As Ron and Harry approached the big man with the other first year students, Hagrid’s eyes lit up. “‘Arry! Bless me. It’s good to see yeh again.” The giant beamed at the small boy.
Harry stared back, shocked that the man remembered him. “Hi, Ha . . . Hagrid.”
Hagrid’s greeting and Harry’s response moved the first year students’ attention from Malfoy to Harry, and he could feel himself retreating, even as he stood still. Harry squeezed his eyes briefly, then took a deep breath. Ron’s subtle movement closer to him helped even more.
Hagrid stuck out his huge hand, which was bigger than Harry’s head. The small boy stared at it, trying to figure out what part of the giant’s hand he could grab. Finally, he put his hand in the middle of Hagrid’s palm and watched as half of his arm disappeared within the man’s grasp.
Hagrid bent down, trying to minimize the distance between them, and whispered, “Did yeh like the pichures?”
Harry smiled briefly and nodded his head. “Th . . . thanks.”
Letting go of the boy’s hand, Hagrid said, “Alrigh, all of yeh onter the boats. Righ this way.”
Harry walked quickly, trying to get away from the open-mouthed stares from his new classmates. He quickly boarded the first boat with Ron, the bushy-haired girl, and a very nervous-looking boy. He searched the boat for oars or a small motor but saw neither. Then, with a lurch, the boat started moving. Harry looked at Ron, the obvious question on his face.
“Magic, I suppose.” Ron shrugged.
After skimming across the placid lake surface for several minutes, a collective, “Oh,” rose from the first years.
The Hogwarts castle had come into view.
Even though Harry had previously seen the castle, it had been during the day. In Harry’s estimation, it was even more impressive at night. The castle was huge, with numerous towers and turrets piercing the velvety night sky. Light shining through the many windows made the imposing structure look warm and hospitable.
The setting was dramatic, with the castle flowing from a thirty metre high promontory that rose above the lakeshore, as if it were part of the rocky outcropping. Rolling slopes surrounded the castle, with shadowy mountains providing a backdrop. Harry knew that no matter what happened at Hogwarts he would remember this first magical sight of the lighted castle for as long as he lived. Another thought floated into his mind. He would be going to school here for the next seven years. This would be his home, his first real home, and he would be learning how to use the magic that sometimes burned within him.
Despite the warm, positive feelings he was receiving from the castle, Harry could sense another aspect to its personality. He felt the building also could be cold, impersonal, and uncaring, reflecting the grey granite that made up much of the castle’s structure. This was the first time he sensed a personality in a building, but then he thought, this was the first magical building he’d ever seen.
Harry looked around at the other first years, seeing wide eyes and open mouths. Seconds later the boats pulled up smoothly to wooden docks, and the new students got off. Hagrid led them up the path to the castle, where Minerva McGonagall stood on the stairs, radiating authority and a “don’t mess with me” attitude.
“All yers, Perfessor,” Hagrid said, and he continued up the stairs and into the castle.
With one stern look, all conversation stopped, and Professor McGonagall explained what would take place, once they entered the castle. As soon as she turned and walked towards the entry doors, the nervous students started talking again, most of it centred on the Sorting Ceremony. Many students thought there would be some kind of test they had to pass in order to be accepted into the school and to determine the House they would belong to. The professor had just brought the group to a halt outside the Great Hall, when a whitish apparition flew above the students.
The students started chattering about the ghost, until the rude girl stated loudly and quite authoritatively that it was a poltergeist named ‘Peeves,’ according to Hogwarts: A History. All conversation ceased when Peeves said in a sing-song voice.
“Potter you rotter.”
Whispers and comments again broke out among the students. Harry and Ron stared open-mouthed at the poltergeist.
His voice became serious. “Why did you try to blow up the Headmaster?”
“Peeves!” Professor McGonagall commanded in her sternest voice. “Out before I transfigure you into a hand towel.”
The students’ comments built to a crescendo, while Peeves turned around and bent over, mimicking mooning the professor and students as if he still had a body. With that, the poltergeist flew off cackling.
All chatter ceased as forty pairs of eyes turned as one to stare at Harry Potter. Some of the students glanced at him with fear in their eyes; others stared with curiosity, wondering what had happened. A few of the first years looked at him with loathing, including the Malfoy boy.
Harry took several deep breaths to help calm his raging emotions. Trying to focus on something other than the attention he was receiving, Harry glanced around at some of the other students. Most still looked nervous and were whispering back and forth. Harry noticed the professor had a sympathetic expression when she looked at him.
“Peeves is a mischief maker, who will say anything to get attention. It is best to ignore his comments and actions.” Her stern gaze moved from one student to the next.
Finally, Professor McGonagall addressed the group as they stood outside two huge doors.
“Once we’re inside the Great Hall, follow me to the front of the room. I’ll call you up individually, in alphabetical order. Sit on the stool and put the hat on your head. Once your House is determined, walk,” her eyes flashed, “don’t run, to the right table and meet your new Housemates. Is that clear to everyone?”
None of the students responded, each one seemingly petrified by what lay ahead of them. When the professor opened the doors to the hall, another gasp arose from the first years. Harry knew this was the biggest room he’d ever seen. It was much bigger than the Dursleys’ house. The ceiling looked like the sky outside, and Harry wondered if it always looked like that or if it reflected whatever the sky looked like.
That is, he wondered until he overheard the rude girl tell another female first year. “The ceiling is enchanted, you know. I read that in Hogwarts: A History. The ceiling always looks exactly like the sky outside does.”
Once they had come to a stop in front of the elevated table where the professors sat, a large black, pointy hat sang a song, making Harry think he’d run into a character from Alice in Wonderland. Then, the professor began to call names from the list she held in her hand.
“Abbott, Hannah” was first to be Sorted. The small blond witch wore her hair in pigtails, and she hesitantly sat on the three-legged stool, suspiciously eyeing the Hat before carefully placing it on her head. Seconds later, the word “Hufflepuff” rang out. The small girl sighed in relief, took off the hat, and walked quickly to the table that was cheering her selection.
Other names were called and Sorted, including another name Harry recognized from the Potter Family Tree. “Bones, Susan” was quickly sorted into Hufflepuff, and the ceremony continued. But when a familiar looking student’s name was announced, Harry’s attention sharpened.
“Crabbe, Vincent,” the Deputy Headmistress called out.
Harry recognized the lumpy boy, with the wiry brown hair, as one of Malfoy’s overlarge shadows. He watched the boy move slowly towards the stool, sit down, and place the Sorting Hat on his head. The students close to the front of the Hall watched in amusement as the dull-faced boy’s eyes widened, caused by what they now knew was the Hat talking to the dense boy.
“Oh my,” Vincent Crabbe heard the Hat say, “I can’t find enough brain activity. How can I place you in a House with nothing to base my decision on? Hmmm, I remember your father was in Slytherin. But I’m worried those ambitious people would take advantage of you and lead you into all sorts of trouble. But you definitely don’t have the brains for Ravenclaw. No, they’d laugh you out of the House. I don’t detect any courage either, so Gryffindor is out. Hufflepuff? No, you’d stand out like a sore thumb. Oh well, it’s probably best not to inflict you on any other house . . . Slytherin.”
Harry thought the Hat’s announcement sounded more like a question. His thoughts were interrupted by Professor McGonagall’s next announcement. Soon though, Crabbe’s even bigger bookend was called to the front.
“Goyle, Gregory.”
Within seconds of placing the Hat on his head — and many students remarking that he had been the only one to make the Hat look small — Gregory Goyle heard voices in his head.
“Not another one,” the Hat shrieked. “I go decades, even centuries, without encountering a barren landscape such as your mind, and this year there are two of you!
“Maybe the Ministry should start giving tests before granting licenses to conceive. Well, you two need to be together, though I have no doubt someone will lead both of you by the nose . . . Slytherin!” the Hat announced in resignation.
Harry looked in amazement as the Hat literally jumped off the huge boy’s head, as if fleeing from something unpleasant, and landed on the floor with a ‘plop.’
The rude, bushy-haired girl, Hermione Granger, was called next, and she nervously sat on the stool, mouthing spells, as if she were to be tested. The Hat sat on her head for a somewhat longer time, until it finally called out, “Gryffindor!” The girl looked relieved and quickly walked over to the table, where she was greeted by several Gryffindors, including Percy Weasley.
Harry glanced at Ron in time to see the tall boy slump visibly in response to the girl being Sorted into the House the redhead was sure he would be in. Ron caught Harry’s eyes and shrugged, but couldn’t hide his disappointment.
After smiling at Harry and Ron, Daphne Greengrass calmly walked up to the stool when Professor McGonagall called her name and placed the Hat on her head. It sat there for a few moments, then strongly announced . . . “Slytherin!”
The blond witch looked over at Harry and shrugged, exactly like Tracey had done when the Hat placed her in the same House. Ron looked even more deflated than he had when Tracey hadn’t been selected for Gryffindor.
The nervous boy turned out to be Neville Longbottom, and he, too, was placed into Gryffindor House. That’s one more reason to be in Gryffindor, Harry thought. His family is another one related to mine.
The blond-haired boy, “Malfoy, Draco,” was next, and a barely concealed wave of murmurs swept through the hall. The Hat called out “Slytherin” before it had settled on the boy’s head. Harry noticed the negative reaction from most of the students seated at the Slytherin table, as they angrily shook their heads and whispered among themselves. Very few students greeted their new Housemate, and Draco Malfoy took a seat at the end of the table, since no one had waved at him to join them.
After several more students, including twin witches who were sorted into different Houses, Professor McGonagall called out “Potter, Harry.”
A hush fell over the hall, and Harry could feel the eyes of hundreds of students and professors boring into him. Then, the whispering started, and he felt like disappearing down a rabbit hole. Though the stool stood no more than three metres from him, to Harry, it felt like it was a kilometre away. He finally made his way to the stool, amid the increasingly loud conversations, sat down, and placed the Sorting Hat on his head. It came below his ears and covered his eyes. Those same eyes widened considerably when the Hat began to speak to him.
“Welcome to Hogwarts, Harry Potter. Yes, I can talk, so don’t worry. You’re not going nuts. The founders of the school enchanted me many centuries ago to Sort the new students each year . . .”
“Excuse me,” Harry said quietly.
“Mr Potter, you don’t need to speak out loud, just think whatever you wish to ask or say to me, and I’ll hear it,” the Hat advised.
Harry sat silently, wondering if this was just an elaborate prank, maybe something cooked up by the twins. Finally, he decided to ask anyway. Um, okay. What I wanted to ask is, what is your name?
“Well, well, Mr Potter, that is a first. I’ve never had a student ask my name. I’ve been called the Sorting Hat or just plain Hat, Floppy, Maurice, which is my least favourite, and a few other names discretion stops me from sharing with you. What do you wish to call me?”
Harry pondered the question, then he smiled as the answer came to him. Merlin.
“Very impressive, Mr Potter. I would be honoured for you to call me that.
“Now, let’s take a look inside your head. It won’t hurt, so don’t be concerned. Oh my! There are two of you in there. But which is the real you? Hmmm. Oh, I see what you’ve done. I’m sorry it’s been so hard for you these past years. That’s interesting. I see you knew nothing of our world until just a month ago.”
Harry shook his head, then remembered he should convey his reactions through thoughts, rather than physically.
Dumbledore stuck me with my Muggle relatives and forgot about me until my eleventh birthday at the end of July. I found out about the magical world, me being a wizard, and Hogwarts in the last month.
Merlin harrumphed. “Dumbledore needs an assistant to help him keep track of everything. I’ve told him for decades now that he’s involved in too many activities and organizations. He’s spread so thin you can see through him . . .” Both Merlin and Harry laughed, and the Hat continued. “I see you have a sense of humour, at least. Anyhow, Albus has been letting too many things slip through the cracks. You are one of the more important examples.”
Harry snorted. Thanks for that, Merlin.
The Hat laughed in Harry’s head. “Well, Godric thought it was important that I have a sense of humour. Unfortunately, he gave me his. Nothing I can do about that now. Well, we should return to the task at hand — which House to Sort you into. You have qualities from all four houses, though you are holding back on some of them. Did you realize that, Harry?”
The boy slumped a bit. Yes. I’m trying, Merlin, but . . . it gets hard sometimes.”
The Hat replied in his softest voice yet, “I can see that, Harry. Just keep fighting to keep the real you, the one I see inside right now. Support from others is there, if you let them.”
Thanks, Merlin, I’ll keep trying.
“I know you will. Let’s look at the Houses now. You have a burning ambition to prove yourself, and Slytherin House would facilitate . . .”
Merlin! Please any House but Slytherin.
“My, that may have been the strongest reaction to a House I’ve ever experienced. Okay, I can grant your request, since you have other alternatives. You work hard, value friendship deeply, and you are capable of great loyalty to your friends, so Hufflepuff would be a good fit. I see you have the intelligence of both of your dear parents, plus qualities you have developed on your own. Oh, I see something else, too. You’ve read all the text books through third year and several others, too. Well done, my boy. Ravenclaw would be an excellent choice for you.
“But your friends, the Weasleys, are all in Gryffindor, and yes, I assume young Ronald will be, too. Your courage is unquestioned after what you’ve been through, so you would do well in Gryffindor.
“Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Gryffindor. Are you sure you don’t want me to consider Slytherin?”
No! Merlin, I’d probably hurt Malfoy within a month.
The Hat laughed uproariously. “Good one, Harry. Okay, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Gryffindor . . . Hmm, Ravenclaw or Gryffindor . . . Gryffindor or Ravenclaw . . .”
“Gryffindor,” the Hat shouted loudly.
During the stunned silence that greeted the announcement, Harry spoke to the Hat, Thank you, Merlin! I was hoping you’d put me there.
Merlin chuckled. “I knew that, Harry. It was the most important factor I considered. After all, it is our choices, not our abilities that define us.”
Merlin’s comment staggered Harry, and he thought to himself, ‘I can choose how I want to be, how I react, how I treat other people.’ The boy sat taller on the stool, as a surge of energy raced through his body. Thanks, Merlin! I really hope we can talk again.
“No student has ever said that to me,” the Hat replied. “I would very much look forward to talking with you again. Good luck, Harry Potter!”
The hall exploded in noise, led by the Gryffindors and the twins in particular.
Harry took off the Hat. “Thank you, Merlin.”
“My pleasure, Harry.”
The professors and the students closest to the stool stared at Harry and the Hat, since the last exchange had been verbal. Harry briefly glanced at the hundreds of students staring at him, squared his shoulders, and walked over to the Gryffindor table.
The response to his Sorting swept over Harry. All of the students in his new house were standing, some on benches, and they were applauding, yelling, whistling, and the twins were shouting, “We’ve got Potter! We’ve got Potter!” over and over again. His head still swimming from his conversation with Merlin and the students’ reactions to his Sorting, Harry walked over to the Gryffindor table, shook hands with Percy Weasley, then sat down between Hermione and Neville.
Professor McGonagall announcing, “Weasley, Ronald,” pulled Harry’s attention back to the Sorting. The very nervous-looking redhead walked up to the stool, already having figured out the twins’ tales of the Sorting were nothing more than their usual teasing. Almost as soon as he sat down and put the pointed Hat on his head, the word, “Gryffindor,” was shouted and cheers rose from that table. Ron sat across from Harry, a relieved smile on his face.
The headmaster uttered several odd words, then waved his hands and enough food for a royal feast magically appeared on the tables. Harry was dumbstruck by the quantity and variety of the items available.
All this food and I didn’t have to cook it myself. Even after the month at the Weasleys’, it still feels strange not to have to cook and clean up.
Harry looked around. People were talking and smiling.
This is definitely different than at the Dursleys.
Harry took a little of everything and started eating, noticing that Ron had piled more food on his plate than he would have eaten in a month at the Dursleys. Harry spent the meal eating slowly and mostly listening to the conversations swirling around him. Suddenly, the noise in the hall dropped noticeably, and Harry looked up to see what had caused the change. All eyes were looking towards the top of the wall behind him. Harry did the same and his mouth dropped open.
Hedwig was heading directly for him, with an envelope tied to her right leg.
Harry briefly squeezed his eyes closed, trying to block out the fact that almost every student and professor in the Great Hall was watching Harry’s snow white owl fly towards him. Harry turned around so he was facing in Hedwig’s direction and put his arm out, so she would have a safe place to land.
In the few seconds it took for Hedwig to find Harry and land on his arm, the young wizard heard the predominant comments change from questions about the owl’s arrival outside the usual morning deliveries and who its owner was to comments about how beautiful she was, mostly by higher, more feminine voices.
Just act like Hedwig flew through the bedroom window, and no one else is around.
An already familiar voice loudly asked, “What kind of half-blood gets mail delivered during the Welcoming Feast?”
A series of Silencio’s rang out throughout the hall. Harry turned and saw Malfoy slumping to the table. A number of the boy’s Housemates could be seen putting their wands back in the pocket of their robes. Most of the students in the hall were focused on a greasy-haired professor who was still standing with his wand aimed at the new student. Harry thought he looked extremely frustrated, almost like he was in pain.
“Twenty more points from Slytherin . . .” A gasp rose from the older students at the Slytherin table, while laugher broke out at the three other tables. “After I wake Mr Malfoy, would one of you please inform your new Housemate that this is the first time I’ve taken points from my own House on the first day of school? Plus, he has the dubious honour of losing the most points by one individual on the first day in the history of Hogwarts.”
He pointed his wand at the culprit and said “Rennervate.” The blond boy opened his eyes and looked around in confusion. One of the older students walked over to him, a furious expression on his face. Words like “embarrassment . . . git . . . loser . . . pariah” were easily heard throughout the hall.
While this was happening, Harry had taken the envelope off Hedwig’s leg, put it in his pocket, and given his owl some roast beef and water. While he was scratching Hedwig between her ears, George caught his attention.
“Harry,” he whispered. “Ask Hedwig to fly to the Owlery and go to your dorm room in an hour. She’ll know where to go.”
Harry nodded in understanding. He wants Hedwig to leave while everyone is watching Malfoy and that professor. He repeated the instructions to Hedwig, who blinked several times, then silently flew up and out of the hall.
“Thanks, George.”
Once the Malfoy incident was over and the students finished eating, Dumbledore gave his start-of-the-term speech. Finally, with Harry feeling his stomach begin to roil, Dumbledore released the students, and the prefects, Percy Weasley for Gryffindor, led the first years to their Common Room.
Percy, Ron, George, and Fred provided a moving blockade, which ensured that none of the other Gryffindor students could get close enough to Harry to ask any questions.
They really are doing everything they said they would. Merlin, I have to get through this feeling that I can’t trust them anymore.
After traipsing up countless staircases, including some that moved while the students were on them, the group arrived at the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room. Harry looked around for a door, wondering why Percy had stopped in front of the portrait of a woman in a pink dress.
“The password is ‘Courage.’” The twins sniggered. “You must give the password to the woman in this picture, and she will open the entrance to our Room.”
With a small bow from the pink lady, the picture swung open, revealing an archway that lead to the Gryffindor Common Room. Harry looked around, buffeted by several conflicting emotions. He felt at ease in the warm, red and gold decorated room. The overstuffed chairs and sofas, the tables, and tapestries looked well-used but homey and comfortable. He got a good feeling from the furnishings in the room.
But the amount of people and the attention he seemed to be drawing made him feel claustrophobic, almost as if the students’ presence caused the room to shrink, making everything press too close to him. Despite the number of students who apparently wanted to talk with him, Harry walked straight through the common area and up the stairs until he arrived at a door marked “First Years.”
Harry pushed his way into the room, saw his trunk, and lay down on the bed it sat by. His breathing came in fast, shallow bursts, making him feel light-headed and out of control. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing deeply and slowly. Finally, his body relaxed and his heart stopped pounding against his rib cage. That calm feeling lasted only a few minutes.
“Harry, you in here?” he recognized Ron’s voice.
Can’t they leave me alone?
The hangings around his bed were pulled back, and Harry opened his eyes and saw his four new roommates. He already knew Ron, of course, and Neville, the nervous boy, but he didn’t recall the other two from the Sorting ceremony.
The shorter of the two, a stocky sandy-haired boy, stuck his hand out. “I’m Seamus Finnigan,” he said, a curious expression on his face.
Harry squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, then sat up on the bed and shook the boy’s hand.
“I’m Harry Potter.”
“Yeah, we know.” Seamus grinned.
“Dean Thomas,” said the taller, darker skinned boy, and he extended his hand.
Harry nodded, as he grasped the boy’s hand. He noticed sweat starting to form on his forehead, and his back already was damp. Even with the bed’s hangings open on the one side, the four-poster seemed to shrink more with each passing second.
Suddenly, Harry’s stomach lurched, and he jumped from the bed, saying, “Sorry,” and raced into the loo.
Too much food and too rich, he thought, as his stomach sought to rid itself of the unwanted contents. Even though he didn’t eat that much at dinner, it was still more than he was used to, even after spending time at the Weasleys’. As he waited for the process to be completed, Harry heard his roommates talking.
Seamus’ Irish brogue was easy to identify. “That’s the Boy Who Lived? Not very impressive, is he?”
Dean’s cool voice added, “Somehow, I expected more. He’s really small.”
“C’mon, guys.”
Harry was shocked someone, especially the nervous boy, would defend him.
Finally, Ron said, “He’s had lots of problems, even when he stayed with us.”
Stop talking about me! Don’t you know I can hear everything you guys are saying? Why are they so interested in me?
Harry wiped the moisture from his forehead.
I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
By the time Harry left the bathroom, the lights had been dimmed, and the other four boys were in bed. Seamus and Ron already were snoring loudly. Harry changed silently into his pyjamas, grabbed Ginny’s letter, parchment and a quill from the table next to his bed, and pulled the bed hangings closed.
“Lumos.”
In another minute, Harry was smiling at Ginny’s mile-a-minute writing style, which reminded him of the times she would get so wound up she’d talk for minutes without bothering to breath.
I knew she would understand, he thought, as he poured through her letter. The ride back . . . it’s got to be hard for Mr and Mrs Weasley, too. This is the first time all the boys are gone . . . She’ll love the reaction to Hedwig flying in, and that pest, Draco Malfoy losing more points for his House . . . Time to write to Ginny.
Harry began the letter to his best friend with a smile on his face, but it faded as he described the events of the day. The stares, some unfeelingly obvious, the whispered comments after people would look at him, the flick of eyes to his forehead came to dominate his thoughts. He repeatedly tried to banish them and focus on more positive parts of the day, like getting into Gryffindor, meeting two first years from another House, the advice and support her brothers had shown.
Within minutes of finishing the letter, Hedwig tapped at the window closest to Harry’s bed. How did she know? Well, they are mail owls, so I guess they know automatically.
He went to the window and let Hedwig in. Back on the bed, Harry tied Ginny’s letter to his owl’s leg, gave her two owl treats, then stroked the feathers along her back. Hedwig stretched up and nuzzled her head against his cheek.
Let Ginny know how much I miss her, Hedwig.
Harry got up and walked over to the window, Hedwig on his arm. “Deliver this in the morning, please, Hedwig. Directly to Ginny in her bedroom if she’s there, otherwise to the kitchen. Okay?”
Hedwig looked at Harry as if to say, ‘I do know my job, even if you don’t realize it.’
“Have a good flight, girl.”
She bobbed her head twice, then pushed off as Harry stretched his arm out the window.
The waning moon still provided enough light that he could follow the owl’s path for several seconds. Finally, she disappeared into the darkness, and Harry returned to his four-poster.
The boy’s breath began to come in shorter, much shallower gasps.
I miss her. Ginny just understands.
The boy’s eyes began to burn, so he squeezed them tightly.
I’ll get through this. I’ll just do my schoolwork the best I can, keep quiet, and try to get through each day.
The ticking of his alarm clock began to grow louder and louder, until it seemed to fill the room with echoing punctuations.
This room is huge. The bed is at least twice the size of the one I had at the Weasleys’. It’s even bigger than the cupboard at my relatives’.
How can anyone sleep with those guys snoring?
Another hour passed, before the boy fell into a fitful sleep, as he tried to adjust to the noise and snoring that filled the dormitory.
The boy awakened gasping, sweat pouring off his body, soaking his pyjamas and the bedding. His body shook, trying to rid itself of some unseen demon. His eyelids fluttered repeatedly but wouldn’t open, and he moaned in some incomprehensible language. With a cataclysmic shudder, the boy lay still in the sweat-drenched bed, not moving, barely breathing, as if all visible emotions had been short-circuited.
I thought I was drowning. That huge guy like Neptune was causing the waves to roll and crash, and the boat I had been in was smashed into the rocks by the cliffs.
Harry shook at the feeling of complete lack of control, as the giant sea creature had sent him reeling first one direction, then another. During the dream, he had felt like he could drown or be thrown into the jagged boulders at any point.
He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe deeply and slowly. Doing this always worked at the Dursleys’. It should work here, too.
Finally, the rapid thumping in his chest slowed down, and the boy found he could fill his lungs each time he breathed. He grabbed his glasses, and his pillow and a blanket from the over-large bed and searched the room. Finding what he wanted, Harry returned the glasses to his bedside table and walked over to his wardrobe.
Opening the door, he crawled in. Finding it a familiar place in which to lie down, Harry Potter quickly fell asleep, alone and unobserved.
Chapter 22: Wands, Witches, and Wizards
Author's Notes: Thanks, as always, goes to my wonderful beta, cwarbeck, who edited the chapter in about half a day.
Words with a letter, then . . . indicate stammering (Harry). Neville’s stuttering is shown by dashes between the troublesome letters. They are two different conditions. In stammering the speaker gets hung up on a letter, pauses, then blurts it out. A stutterer repeats the problem letter several times. A brilliant depiction of a young boy who stammers and the problems the condition cause is shown in Black Swan Green by David Mitchell. I wanted to explain the two conditions, so there would be no confusion as to why I punctuated them differently.
September 2nd: First day of classes
Harry woke early the next morning, finding himself curled almost in a ball. He stretched to work out the kinks but jumped when his hand bumped into a wooden wall.
Oh! That’s right. I slept in the wardrobe. I can’t believe how loud those guys snore.
After peeking around the partially open wardrobe door and verifying his roommates were still sleeping, Harry got up, returned the pillow and blanket to his bed, and went over to the adjacent window. A mixture of greys and pinks on the horizon announced the sun was just rising. Harry quietly pulled his Charms book from his trunk. The soft rays from the nascent sun provided enough light for the boy to read, as he sat against the headboard of his new bed.
After reviewing the first six chapters, he decided to get ready for the day. Fifteen minutes later, he had showered and dressed. Since his roommates were still sleeping, Harry grabbed the Charms book and went downstairs to the common room. No one else was up yet, so he sat in a comfy chair by the fireplace. Even though the embers from the previous night’s fire had turned cold, he felt comfortable sitting there and started reading the seventh chapter.
When he was about halfway through the chapter, Harry sensed someone coming down the girls’ stairs. For some reason, he was disappointed it was the rude girl from the train, carrying a full book bag with her.
She’s probably nervous, since this is the first day, and she doesn’t know what to expect. Plus, she mentioned she’s Muggle-born.
Oh, no. Why’s she walking towards me? She has the entire common room to pick from, and she’s going to sit by me. What’s with that girl?
Harry watched with growing irritation as the witch continued walking in his direction, until she reached the sofa next to his chair. Apparently she hadn’t noticed his sour expression, because she put her book bag on the table, and after glancing at the title of Harry’s text, pulled out her own Charms book. Sitting down, she looked straight at him. Harry quickly ducked his head back into the book, but to no avail; she started talking, determined to get to know the boy she’d read so much about.
“Hello. I don’t know if you remember, but I’m Hermione Granger. You’re Harry Potter, of course. Isn’t Charms fascinating? I’ve tried a couple of the simpler spells myself, at home, you know. All of them worked. Have you tried any?”
Whoa! She didn’t take one breath while she was talking. Why does she think she can just come up and start talking to people? I wonder if blowing up Dumbledore’s office and the training with McGonagall count as doing spells.
Harry shook his head, indicating he hadn’t and went back to reading his book, hoping she would leave him alone.
“I’ve gone through each book twice now. I’m Muggle-born, so all of this is new to me. Don’t you find it all so fascinating?”
She likes the word ‘fascinating.’ She’s used it twice already. I wonder what she’d do if I told her I’d read all the books at least three times each. Bet she’d read them all again before breakfast. She’d die if I told her I’d read the second and third year books already.
He shrugged, without looking up from his book.
“Hmmmpphh!” The bushy-haired girl fired an irritated glance at him, then dove into her Charms book.
Finally.
A few minutes later, Ron’s voice broke the frosty silence by the fireplace. “There you are. I’m starving. Let’s go to breakfast.”
Harry stared at the redheaded boy. I really don’t want to go with him. I know he’s trying to make up for the prank, but it’s like I expect something else to happen, like he’s setting me up again. The boy took a deep breath. I’ve gotta try. He didn’t do anything on the train, and they all helped me out at the train station and here. I’ll just watch them until I feel comfortable again. I really wish Ginny were here.
Harry got up and left the girl sitting there, open-mouthed.
Did she think we were going to ask her to join us?
Harry was sure he heard the word “boys” spat out like a swear word, as he and Ron left the common room.
Mr Weasley wanted me to make friends outside of my House. Merlin, that’ll be tough. Everyone’s going to wonder what’s going on, when I talk with Tracey and Daphne. Oh, Susan Bones, too. She’s in Hufflepuff. And Neville, at least he’s in Gryffindor.
When they entered the Great Hall, all conversation ceased, as the students stared at the new student. Harry felt the heat rising up his neck, and he ducked his head to avoid seeing the people stare. After a few interminable seconds, the whispering started.
Don’t people think I can hear? If I’m lucky, they’ll get used to me in a few days and will stop this staring and gossiping. I’ll talk with the girls after breakfast. Otherwise, everyone here is going to be watching. God, this is hard.
Taking a seat at the Gryffindor table with Ron opposite him, Harry pushed scrambled eggs with mushrooms onto his plate, along with a couple of sausages, and poured a glassful of pumpkin juice. He looked up and down the long table, shaking his head at the amount of food it held and trying not to think how it compared to the sparse quantity he had received at the Dursleys’. Harry struggled not to listen to the comments being made.
“I can’t believe he’s that small, even for a first year.”
“He looks like he hasn’t had a good meal his entire life. Look how sunken his cheeks and eyes are.”
“How did someone like that defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?”
“Well, it wasn’t in arm wrestling.”
“Ha! Good one.”
“He looks like he could barely hold up a wand, let alone cast a spell.”
Harry tried to ignore the comments being made about him, by listening to the conversations of those students who were sitting too close to actually talk about him. The other Gryffindor first years — Neville, Seamus, Dean, Hermione and her roommates — had arrived several minutes after he and Ron had sat down. From what he overheard, the Gryffindors by him were primarily interested in Quidditch. Of course, he thought, that may have been Ron Weasley’s influence, since he spoke about almost nothing else.
Harry quickly got bored with the non-stop discussion of Quidditch. I need to talk with other people. I can’t be like I was at school. Ron and the twins aren’t Dudley and his gang. Ginny and Mr and Mrs Weasley want me to do this.
The boy closed his eyes for a moment and focused on breathing deeply. I can do this.
He turned to Neville Longbottom, who was seated next to him. “N . . . Neville.” The boy looked at Harry in surprise. “I j . . . just saw that our f . . . families are related,” Harry said in a voice barely above a whisper. “I’m g . . . glad we’re both Gryffindors.” Harry forced a small smile but wasn’t sure he succeeded.
Neville’s eyes dipped down and his cheeks took on a rosy tint. “M-m-most pure-blood families are related in some way or another. There’re n-not that m-many families anymore.”
“That’s what D . . . Daphne Greengrass said on the train.”
Neville’s head snapped up. “Y-y-you talked to her?”
Harry shrugged. “She and Tracey D . . . Davis came by and said ‘hi.’ They said they were trying to meet all the first years.”
“M-m-more like they wanted to m-meet you.”
Harry grimaced. “I hate that. I didn’t do anything.” He looked up. “Sorry, I’m not m . . . mad at you.”
Neville stared at Harry for several moments. When he began to speak, his voice had taken on a different timbre. “You’ll find some pure-bloods believe that anyone who is not a pure-blood isn’t worth their time.”
Harry looked puzzled. “D . . . Daphne wasn’t like that. Tracey said she was half-blood, and it didn’t seem to matter to Daphne.”
Neville’s eyes swept the hall. “Families like the M-M-Malfoys, N-Notts, and Parkinsons think blood purity is the most important thing there is.”
“All Slytherins,” Harry noted, while Neville nodded his head. “But the Weasleys are pure-blood and they aren’t like that. Guess that’s why they’re G . . . Gryffindors.” Neville smiled tentatively.
That’s another reason the Houses shouldn’t be set up that way. They just repeat the same stuff to each other.
Harry looked at Neville. “Thanks.”
Neville stared for a few seconds, then swallowed visibly. “Y-y-you don’t know any of this, do you?”
Harry shook his head. “Almost n . . . nothing. Except for the last m . . . month with Ron and his family, I lived in the M . . . Muggle world and didn’t even know I was a wizard.”
Neville shook his head at the news. “N-no one knew where you were after . . . well . . . you know. That’s one of the reasons everyone is so interested in you. At least, that’s what my Gran thinks.”
“I hadn’t thought of that. I just wish I knew m . . . more about the wizarding world, like all the pure-blood and half-blood stuff.”
Neville stared at his plate, before finally responding. “I c-can help you.” He took a deep breath. “M-my Gran made sure I learned all of that.”
“That would be great, Neville. Thanks!” Harry smiled at his roommate.
Neville straightened up a bit. “Y-you’re welcome.”
While Harry and Neville were talking, Dumbledore and McGonagall observed their new student. The Potions professor seated far to their right also subtly watched the boy.
“Oh, Albus, Harry still looks so malnourished, even after Molly had him for those weeks. He looks almost emaciated,” the Transfiguration teacher said.
“He’ll get enough food here,” the headmaster replied. “I’m more concerned with the effects of the prank. I’m sure that did not help his relationship with the Weasley boys at all. Harry seems to have anger or some insecurity remaining. I’m just not sure at this point. I visited his common room this morning, under wraps, as it were, and he completely ignored Miss Granger when she tried to start a conversation with him. Harry even seemed to resent her trying to talk with him. I hope she keeps trying, because she’s one of the few first years that has his intellectual talents. We’ll need to keep a close eye on him.”
“Speaking of which,” McGonagall said. “I should hand out the class schedules. I’ll talk with you after Harry has had my class.”
The Gryffindor Head of House walked over to the table where her students were seated and started handing out the class schedules for the year. About a third of the way down the long table, she came to several first years.
“Miss Granger, Weasley, Longbottom, Potter. Here are your class schedules. Do learn them soon and the quickest route to each classroom. I do not want points taken from my House for tardiness.”
She handed out the schedules, which contained the classes they would be taking and their time slots. Harry thought this would be the first time he had classes taught by different teachers and in different classrooms. At his Muggle school, he had always had the same teacher, and all subjects were taught in the same classroom.
Another thing to get used to. I don’t even know my way around the castle yet. Plus, the staircases move. I really don’t want to lose any House points.
He looked at his schedule, finding they had Charms first, then Transfiguration, lunch, and finishing with History of Magic in the afternoon. On the way out of the hall, Harry noticed some activity in his peripheral vision. Looking to his right, he saw that Tracey and Daphne were waving at him, both smiling. He immediately felt the heat of a blush beginning on his cheeks, but he waved briefly at the two girls.
I’ve got to do this for Mr Weasley.
Harry stopped, and after a step so did Ron, Neville, and Hermione. “Ron,” he paused in thought for a moment, “N . . . Neville. Let’s say hi to Daphne and Tracey. It’ll just be a second.”
The two boys looked surprised, almost shocked, by Harry’s suggestion. Finally, Ron shrugged his shoulders. “Sure.” The three Gryffindor boys walked toward the Slytherin table, as the bushy-haired witch quickly left the hall, blinking rapidly.
Harry could feel his muscles tighten as he approached the table, certain that many of the students remaining in the hall were watching him and wondering what he was doing. Daphne and Tracey had both got up and walked towards the three Gryffindor boys, meeting them at the end of their table.
Daphne spoke first. “Hi, Harry, Ron. Neville, it’s been a while. Oh, Tracey, this is Neville Longbottom.” She smiled. “He’s a fifth cousin on my dad’s side, I think. About the same as with Potter and Weasley here.”
Tracey smiled at Neville, “I’m Tracey Davis.” While Neville blushed, she turned to Ron and Harry. “You’re brave to venture over here.”
Might as well let them know.
“It shouldn’t be,” Harry replied quietly.
“Davis, Greengrass, why are you slumming with them?”
All eyes turned towards the whinging voice. Quickly an older Slytherin, with a prefect’s badge on his robes, stood up and said harshly, “Shut up, Malfoy, before you cost us more points.”
Draco’s cheeks coloured and his eyes flashed with malice, but he didn’t say anything else.
Daphne took a step closer to the three Gryffindors. “That ponce. Everyone hates him at this point,” she said in a very quiet voice. “For some reason, he thinks he’s Merlin’s gift to Slytherin House.” Both she and Tracey shook their heads.
Tracey’s demeanour quickly changed, as her usual smile replaced the Draco-induced frown. “So, Harry, are we your Slytherin friends? That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it?”
Four open mouths greeted Tracey’s remark. As soon as Harry recovered, he smiled. “The Hat also considered Ravenclaw, didn’t he?”
Tracey raised an eyebrow. “Gryffindor, too.”
“Both of those houses for me, too,” added Daphne.
“Hufflepuff,” Neville whispered.
Ron shook his head. “Just Gryffindor.”
“No surprise there, Ron.” Daphne smiled at the redhead. “Has there ever been a Weasley in any other House?”
Ron smiled. “Not that we know of.”
Four sets of eyes turned to Harry.
“Well?” Tracey asked.
Harry shrugged. “All four.”
There were four rather sharp sounds of air being inhaled involuntarily, as the four magical students gaped at Harry.
“You could have been in Slytherin?” Ron gasped, thankfully in a whisper.
“Shh,” four different voices quickly responded.
The first years glanced around the room, relieved to see that no one had heard Ron’s comment.
Tracey had the same look as earlier. “We could have been in different Houses, except for Ron,” she said quietly. “You don’t care about House boundaries. Is that it?”
Harry couldn’t hold back his smile. “What do they m . . . matter? The Sorting shows that.” Now or never. “So, are you our Slytherin friends?” His eyes moved from Tracey to Daphne.
“Yes,” Daphne replied immediately.
“Count me in.” Tracey smiled.
Harry smiled at the two witches. “Good. Th . . . think about anyone else, okay?”
The girls nodded, and the two Slytherin witches walked out of the hall with the three Gryffindor wizards, followed by a number of curious stares.
At the Entrance Hall, the five new friends split up, with the two witches departing to the dungeons. The Gryffindor first years returned to their common room, retrieved the books they needed, then set out for the Charms classroom.
Walking into the room, Harry was surprised by two things. The desks were arranged in a large “U” shape, leaving the middle of the room open. Probably for spell demonstrations, he thought. The second startling sight was the teacher, Professor Flitwick. He was shorter than Harry, much shorter. And because of that, he stood on his desk, so his students could see him.
If he sat at his desk, the top of his head would barely be higher than the desktop. No wonder he does that.
As the professor greeted the students from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor and began the lesson, Harry immediately liked Professor Flitwick. He seemed like a nice person, and his explanation of the Levitation Spell was clear and understandable. The professor had the class practice the incantation, Wingardium Leviosa, and the swish and flick wand movement several times before letting them attempt the complete spell.
Remembering that Dumbledore didn’t want him to do wandless or non-verbal magic, Harry waved his wand and said the incantation Flitwick had indicated and he had practiced dozens of times while in his room at the Weasleys' and during his training lessons.
“Wonderful, Mr Potter!” The professor literally bounced on top of his desk, clapping his hands, and smiling at Harry’s feather, which rose from the desktop towards the ceiling. “Bring it back down now, please.” Harry moved his arm slowly, until the feather landed gently on the desk. “Ten points to Gryffindor. It’s highly unusual to do that on your first try. Well done, Mr Potter!”
Harry could feel everyone staring at him, particularly Hermione, who fumed, as she repeatedly waved her wand at the offending feather and enunciated the incantation. Just as her feather started to rise, Seamus’ feather exploded in a burst of dark grey smoke, and Hermione’s feather plunked back down on the desk. By the way she looked at the Irish boy, Harry thought she was going to curse him.
Ron’s question startled Harry. “How did you do that?”
Harry shrugged and pointed at the feather again, raising it to the top of the ceiling. All conversation and activity abruptly stopped, as the professor and all his classmates stared in shock at Harry. He looked around, feeling extremely self-conscious, trying to figure out why they were staring again. It was only when he lowered the feather that he figured it out.
Oh crap! I forgot to use my wand. I may have forgotten to say the words out loud, too. I can’t believe I did that. I’m in trouble already. Dumbledore is going to be furious. Even worse Professor McGonagall will be disappointed in me.
The class exploded in noise. Ron’s nervous comment was the only one he could hear clearly.
“Harry, I thought you weren’t supposed to do that in school.”
Harry’s spirits sank at his mistake, but they quickly got worse when Harry saw Flitwick’s distressed expression. The professor mouthed, ‘See me after class.’ All Harry could do was nod his head, even though he wished he could disappear under the desk.
My first class, and I do the one thing McGonagall and Dumbledore asked me not to do.
The class bell rang shortly thereafter.
Ron whispered, “I’ll wait outside the classroom for you.”
Harry nodded, feeling upset at himself and the world in general, as his classmates stared at him and whispered to each other as they left.
“Mr Potter, please come here.” Harry walked over to the professor’s desk. “The headmaster told us of your talents and that he had requested you not to make them public. What happened?”
Harry could have explained he’d forgotten he had placed his wand on the desk and instinct had taken over when Ron asked to show him how the spell was done. Or, he could have said that’s how he did magic, that he found a wand cumbersome and unnecessary.
Instead, he said nothing and hung his head, knowing that to argue with an adult or even try to explain something led to being punished. With that thought, Harry began to get angry again.
Why won’t Dumbledore leave me alone? First he ignores me for ten years, then he comes out of nowhere and starts dictating everything in my life. Why doesn’t he just let me learn magic the best way I can?
The tiny professor backed up as far as he could on the desk. “Mr Potter, please calm down. You won’t be punished, but I will have to inform the headmaster of your demonstration. He’ll decide what to do from there. You may go to your next class now.”
Harry was fuming, feeling like the walls were closing in on him, and that he couldn’t do anything right. Every thought he had brought him back to the same source.
Albus Dumbledore.
Ron and Hermione accosted Harry the second he stepped into the hallway.
“How did you do that?” Hermione demanded.
“Did you get in trouble?” Ron quickly followed.
“Who taught you?” Hermione’s voice rose a half octave.
“We better get moving to Transfiguration, or else McGonagall will skin us.”
With that, the three first years ran down the hall, entering the classroom, just as Professor McGonagall looked at the clock. All she did was briefly glance at the three students and arch an eyebrow.
Ten seconds later, the classroom echoed with shrieks, then applause, when the professor transformed into a tabby cat and back to herself. Her credentials established, the stern teacher explained how to do the first transfiguration task and handed out a wooden match to each student.
“You may begin.”
Harry, with his wand firmly in hand, followed the instructions the professor and the book provided, muttered the appropriate words, and watched as the match turned into a pointed, silver needle, with a little hole at the end.
“Mr Potter!”
He looked up reluctantly, his stomach suddenly uneasy. All activity and noise ceased, as if a giant “off” switch had been thrown. Again, he could feel the eyes of each student on him. McGonagall walked over to his desk and picked up the needle, eyeing him with curiosity. She muttered some words, and the needle turned back into its original shape.
“Will you do that again, Mr Potter?”
Making sure the wand was still in his hand and repeating the incantation, Harry again turned the match into a gleaming silver sewing needle.
A gasp went up from the class. Harry sneaked a look at Hermione, whose brow was furrowed, as she repeated the wand movement and words but with scant results. Harry thought her match now looked like a large grey sliver.
“Excellent, Mr Potter. This is the first time a new student has transfigured a match on the first try. I’ll get some other inanimate objects for you to work on. Ten points to Gryffindor. Now, the rest of you, back to work.” McGonagall looked around the classroom, then added, “What Mr Potter has done is highly unusual, to say the least. Do not let it bother you if you can’t match his results today. Please proceed.”
As the class progressed and the more objects Harry transfigured, the more upset Hermione got, until she was almost screaming at the poor match. By the time the double session ended, Hermione’s face was so red she looked like she had terminal sunburn. The young witch finally reached a state of apoplexy when the professor awarded Harry another ten points for his work.
The barrage of questions started anew the second the three students exited the classroom. Apparently, Hermione didn’t notice the effect her non-stop questioning was having on her new classmate, especially when it verged on being accusatory in nature. Finally, Harry had enough.
“Shut up!” His eyes blazed into hers.
All three students stopped and stared at each other. Hermione and Ron both had their jaw drop at the usually quiet boy’s exclamation.
“Leave me alone,” he snarled and he stormed off, leaving his two classmates standing like statues in the middle of the hallway.
Harry entered the Great Hall, steaming at the day’s events and sat at the end of the table, close to the entrance doors. He grabbed a sandwich, a handful of crisps, poured some juice, and started attacking his food, not tasting a single bite.
How stupid can I be? I forget to use my wand in Charms, after they tell me not to do wandless magic! Hermione can’t believe anyone can beat her in any subject and starts demanding how I do this stuff! I don’t know how I do it! I just do it! Can’t she leave me alone? I hate this! I can’t believe it’s only the first half of the first day! I’ll never make it here!
“Harry?”
“What?” he said angrily, then he looked up. “Oh.”
Dumbledore had a concerned expression on his face. “Could you see me after your History of Magic class this afternoon? The password is ‘Fruit Loops.’”
The password confused the young boy. Why would he pick the name of a Muggle cereal for his password? Harry looked at the headmaster and nodded his head.
After lunch, Harry followed the other Gryffindor first years to the History of Magic classroom. He had eagerly anticipated this class, so he could start overcoming his almost non-existent knowledge of the magical world. He assumed the course would provide an overview of magic through the ages, the development of governing bodies, creation of spells and counter-curses and their regulation, among many other interesting topics. Harry also wondered if the material would focus solely on the British magical society or world wide. He felt it could be one of the most interesting classes he would be taking.
The professor hadn’t yet arrived, and Harry overheard Ron talking to Seamus and Dean. “The twins told me that the professor is a ghost. They must think I’m as thick as a Yorkshire wizard’s accent.”
All three boys started laughing, then stopped abruptly, as Professor Binns entered the classroom by dropping through the ceiling. To everyone’s shock, he really was a ghost! For once, the twins weren’t pulling someone’s chain. A few girls — and one highly embarrassed Hufflepuff boy — screamed, but the teacher didn’t seem to notice. He floated over to the board, wrote his name, and started his lecture without any preliminaries.
Harry was hugely disappointed. Binns’ voice would cure insomnia and it had a monotone quality, with no colour whatsoever. When Harry thought about it, Binns’ voice probably was appropriate for a ghost. The worst part, though, was the subject matter. Binns droned on about nothing other than goblin rebellions, and after Harry checked the syllabus, he found the class focused almost exclusively on goblin rebellions.
Apparently, there has been a lot of them.
After no more than thirty minutes of Binns’ lecture, all of the students, except for Hermione and Harry, wore glazed expressions or had actually fallen asleep, with their head on the desk. Harry fought to maintain some semblance of alertness and tried to take notes, but it ended up being a losing battle.
Now I know why Professor McGonagall suggested I get some books on magical history.
As the end of the double session approached, an irritating thought came to Harry. He had to go to Dumbledore’s office. He assumed it was prompted by his use of wandless magic in Charms. He also assumed that the headmaster would lecture him for doing that, since he had asked Harry not to make that ability public. When the bell rang, he walked out of class with the others but headed in the direction of Dumbledore’s office, without saying a word to his Housemates.
After giving the password to the lion-like statue, he rode up the curving stairs and was greeted with a warm, “Welcome, Harry!” before he reached the door. Harry looked around the office and quickly noticed it had been repaired, with one exception. Professor Dumbledore now had decidedly fewer silver trinkets.
I guess I demolished them so badly they couldn’t be fixed.
“Please take a seat, Harry.” The wizard gestured to a comfy, overstuffed chair that sat in front of his large desk. “Lemon drop?”
Harry reached out and took one from the offered tray.
“How are you finding your first day of classes, my boy?” Dumbledore beamed at him, his blue eyes twinkling. “Was it anything like you anticipated?”
Harry tried to mask the flare of irritation he felt. Don’t call me ‘my boy.’ Why don’t you ask me what you want and stop wasting time? Just yell at me for using wandless magic.
He shrugged.
“Well, it looks like you’ve already met some students outside your House. We saw you talking with Miss Greengrass and Miss Davis at breakfast. How did you get to know them?”
Harry stared at the headmaster, knowing if he said anything, he would probably get detention. What business of his is it who I talk with?
Dumbledore peered at the boy, and the twinkle dimmed somewhat. “Harry, do you remember when Professor McGonagall mentioned you shouldn’t use your wandless or non-verbal magic in school?”
Harry’s eyes narrowed, as he went back to his recollection of the conversation. Here’s the reason he wanted to see me. The problem is I don’t know exactly when she told me.
Harry shook his head.
Dumbledore looked puzzled, his eyebrows rising but quickly being pulled back to their normal place. “Well, I’ll need to make my wishes clearer next time. More importantly, do you understand why doing wandless or non-verbal magic could create problems?”
Not really. Why don’t you explain? Besides, it was a mistake. I didn’t realize I was doing that.
The boy shook his head again and noticed that the office had become warmer.
Dumbledore sighed. “It will bring even more attention to you, since very few adults can do magic that way. That you can do it at eleven is virtually unheard of.”
But isn’t it better to be known for magical abilities than for something I did when I was a baby, don’t remember, and should get no credit for?
Another shrug, as he swiped at the moisture on his forehead.
Irritation became evident on the Headmaster’s face. “I would appreciate a verbal response, Harry.”
Harry’s irritation reached the level of Dumbledore’s and moved past it.
He repeated in rapid-fire fashion each of the thoughts he had expressed to himself.
“Doing the charm wandlessly was a mistake. I put my wand down after I had completed levitating the feather. Ron asked how I did it. I forgot to pick up my wand when I showed him. Everyone was looking, since I was the only one who could do the charm.
“I don’t know what day or time Professor McGonagall told me not to use wandless magic.
“I don’t see why doing magic this way is a problem. It’s how I do it. It’s no big deal. I have enough things to think about since I’m just learning about magic and the wizarding world.
“I doubt I could attract any more attention than I am now, so that’s not really a concern.
“I don’t know why you’d be interested where I met Daphne and Tracey.
“And I really don’t like to be called ‘my boy.’
“Is that enough verbal response for you?
“I have one for you. Why did Voldemort try to kill me?”
The Headmaster looked furious. “This isn’t the time or place to get into that discussion. Suffice it to say, it was not the wisest thing to display your magical abilities, especially on the first day, when attention on you is at its highest.”
“I told you I didn’t even know I had done that.” Harry’s felt his eyes narrowing, and moisture beading on his forehead. Dumbledore was his only focus, and the rest of the office began to blur. You want me to hold back in school just like I had to with the Dursleys. And I hated it!
“Harry!” Dumbledore looked alarmed. “Please calm down. My purpose in calling you here was not to upset you.”
Harry realized what he was doing and pulled himself back, breathing slowly and as deeply as he could in order to calm himself. He closed his eyes for a few moments. When he opened them again, he saw Dumbledore staring intently into his eyes, an unreadable expression on his face.
Harry felt something strange, something he’d never felt before, like soft fingers were moving inside his head. The boy’s eyes widened in surprise, as the headmaster’s gaze continued to be locked on his eyes. Harry became increasingly concerned about the continued pressure inside his head.
“Professor, I’m feeling something in my head . . .”
As soon as his words were spoken, the feeling went away.
Was Dumbledore doing that?
Dumbledore smiled at the boy, his eyes twinkling again. “Thank you for meeting with me. Don’t worry about what happened in Charms. But please use your wand and say the incantations. Agreed?”
Harry peered at the wizard for several moments. “Yes, sir.”
“Harry, I want you to know I’m available for you anytime, for anything you want to talk about.” He smiled again. “Why don’t you return to your House and meet up with your friends. Dinner will begin in just over an hour. Good day, Harry.”
Despite feeling furious, Harry nodded at the headmaster and left the seventh floor office.
The small boy stalked down the corridor, replaying the meeting in his mind as if it were a video. Harry had walked about two-thirds of the way down the empty hallway, when he stopped abruptly. After a second’s hesitation, he started pacing back and forth.
I can’t stand this. I need somewhere to go so I can calm down.
I don’t know how much longer I can stand it here. That’s the only way out of this. I just hope the Weasleys understand. He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, then resumed pacing. I need to calm down before I go back and tell Dumbledore.
God, I’m so angry with him. I need to get this out of my system so I can talk with him and not explode.
Harry stopped and closed his eyes, remembering to breathe deeply. When he opened his eyes again, a door had mysteriously appeared in the middle of the previously blank wall.
How did that happen?
A moment later, he knew. The castle’s magical. I felt it when I first got here.
He hesitated only a few seconds before gripping the door handle and pulling the door open.
Two steps into the room, Harry stopped and looked around in amazement. It’s exactly what I asked for.
A blazing fire snapped and danced in a red brick fireplace that stood against the middle of the wall to his left. An overstuffed sofa sat in front of it and effectively divided the room in half lengthwise. Finishing off the ‘calming’ side of the room were two comfortable looking chairs on either side of the sofa, a large rectangular table in front of it, and a large bookcase against the wall straight ahead of him. The colours were soothing, predominantly rich burgundies and hunter greens, with the chairs covered in a brocade fabric in those colours, intermixed with a soft, burnished golden toned pattern. All of the wood pieces were a mellow medium golden brown-stained oak.
Harry couldn’t help but smile when he looked at that setting, but he tore his eyes away to see what the room had provided so he could drain his anger. His smile quickly returned when his survey showed both Muggle and magical equipment. Two punching bags dominated the far, right corner. One was suspended from the wall, with the bag at a height of someone’s head who was slightly shorter than he was. The second bag was much bigger and heavier and was tethered to the floor and ceiling.
Most interesting, though, was the magical equipment. A set of ten life-like dummies about his size stood against the wall to his right.
When Harry completed his survey of the room, he thought, What is this place?
A parchment scroll slowly materialized half a metre from his eyes.
As you may have deduced by now, the room will configure itself to meet your wishes or needs. By pacing three times in front of the blank wall outside while thinking what you need or want, you can create the setting that conforms to your wishes.
While the door is not visible to anyone else other than those who desire the same thing you have, some witches and wizards can overcome the protective wards of the room and gain entry. If that is a concern, the user of the room may wish to take additional steps to provide privacy and silence.
Harry immediately cast Colloportus and Silencio and continued reading the scroll.
Additional features, facilities, and accessories may be brought forth simply by asking the room to provide them. All of the changes you have requested will remain in place as long as you remain in the room. Once you vacate, the room will disappear, unless you request it to remain available to you.
The room is protected by anti-Apparition and Portkey wards, which cannot be over-ridden, except by the Hogwarts house elves, who will provide food and drink when requested.
Please enjoy the room with our compliments. We hope it meets your requirements!
Godric Gryffindor Helga Hufflepuff
Rowena Ravenclaw Salazar Slytherin
The scroll faded from sight when Harry finished reading.
The four Founders of Hogwarts. Merlin! I guess I was walking back and forth in front of that wall, thinking about what I needed. This is amazing.
But what are house elves?
Harry turned toward the dummies. “Please move forward two metres from the wall.”
The dummies did precisely that. Harry barked a laugh at how they moved exactly the same. Even though his anger had dissipated while marvelling at the room’s magic, Harry still wanted to practice.
It will give me a chance to try that Stunning Spell I read about.
He turned towards the dummy on his far right, pointed his hand at its chest and thought Stupefy. A split second later, the dummy pitched over backwards, almost as if an invisible hand had pushed it.
That’s not very good. It just fell over. I wonder if I can knock it back further.
Harry’s eyes narrowed. This time he focused more intensely and threw his hand more forcefully at the next dummy’s chest, while thinking the incantation. The dummy tumbled back about a metre this time.
With each cast, the subsequent dummy flew further back, until the fifth one, which stood directly in front of the boy. With a swift, aggressive movement and barked command, the dummy crashed into the wall behind it and slid to the ground.
That’s better. I guess I should try the left hand now.
While somewhat weaker than the results obtained by his right hand, Harry saw the same progress as he cast the Stunning Spell against the five remaining dummies, with the last one landing at the base of the wall behind it.
By the time Harry had finished Stunning the ten dummies a second time, he felt his anger and his energy draining from him. Walking to the sofa, he thought, I could use a glass of cold pumpkin juice.
Within seconds of sitting down, a sharp ‘crack’ caused Harry to jump. The strangest looking creature he had ever seen stood in front of him, holding a silver tray with a glass of pumpkin juice on it. Harry and the small creature — he thought it might not come to his waist — stared at each other. Harry’s gaze went from the long, floppy ears, to the overlarge protuberant eyes, pointed nose, and triangular shaped head. Then, he remembered something on the scroll.
“You’re a house elf?”
The elf nodded her head — at least Harry thought the elf was female — causing her ears to move. “Sir, my name is Mimsy. You asked the Come and Go Room for a glass of pumpkin juice. Here I is with it.”
Harry noticed Mimsy was wearing a toga-like garment, with a Hogwarts crest toward the top, on the left side. “Thank you for bringing the juice, Mimsy. My name is Harry Potter.”
Mimsy’s eyes grew even large. “You is Harry Potter?”
He looked at her curiously. “Yes. You know my name?”
“Most elves knows your name, sir.”
Harry felt the heat building up, both inside him and through the moisture forming on his skin. When is this going to stop? He noticed Mimsy had backed away a few steps.
“I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you. You work at Hogwarts?”
“Yes, sir, we’s cooks all the meals and cleans the castle.”
“The meals are very good. But how do you get them to the tables in the Great Hall?”
Mimsy smiled. “House elf magic.”
“Is it different than wizard magic?”
Mimsy’s eyebrows almost came together, as she thought over the question. “Some of the magics is the same. Others is being different.”
“Would you be able to show me sometime?” Harry asked.
Mimsy looked nonplussed. “No wizard asking that before. I is not knowing. I’ll be checking.”
“Thank you, Mimsy.”
“You is welcome, Harry Potter.” With another loud ‘crack,’ the house elf disappeared.
Time to go back to the common room, I guess.
As he approached the Fat Lady’s portrait, it swung open. Ron and the other first years greeted Harry.
After they’d walked for a while, Ron asked, “How was the meeting with Dumbledore?”
“S’okay,” Harry replied.
Should I tell them?
“I felt something moving in my head at the end.”
Hermione was the only one who didn’t look confused by Harry’s statement. Her eyes lit up, and her voice took on an authoritative quality. “It’s called Legilimency. I learned about it during the summer when I was doing some light reading in preparation for coming here.”
Ron stared at her and shook his head. For his part, Harry forgot his earlier irritation with Hermione; his eyes became wider and wider as she continued to elaborate.
“It’s where a wizard enters your mind and reads your thoughts and memories. Was Dumbledore looking directly into your eyes when you felt it?”
“Uh huh. My eyes had been closed. The feeling started when I opened them. Dumbledore was staring straight into them.”
By this time, the group had entered the Great Hall, and each of the first years looked intently at the headmaster, as they walked to the Gryffindor table.
After they sat down, Harry added, “As soon as I told him I felt something funny in my head, it stopped.” He looked at Hermione. “He could see my memories?”
Hermione nodded her head. “Yes, a good Legilimens can see whatever memory he wants to see. I would imagine Professor Dumbledore is an accomplished Legilimens.”
Harry mouthed ‘Thanks’ to Hermione, and she smiled back at him.
He’s unbelievable. First he tries to tell me what I can and can’t do. He’s made decisions about my life, without ever discussing them with me or even telling me what he was doing. Now, he’s entering my mind without asking. What else is he going to do? I’ve got to write Ginny about this.
“Uh, Harry? You’re getting pretty red. You okay?”
Ron’s question cut through Harry’s mental rant and brought his thoughts back to dinner and the people surrounding him.
“Yeah, thanks.” He focused on his breathing until he was calm again.
Because his first year Housemates had seen Harry’s reaction to what Dumbledore had done, they left him alone, not bombarding him with the many questions they had. Harry finished his dinner in relative peace and returned to the dormitory with the others. Knowing he would be uncomfortable in the crowded and noisy common room, Harry stuffed several of his books into his book bag. He wanted to go to the library, so he could complete the essay that had been assigned by McGonagall. He also wanted to study ahead for Potions and DADA and begin reading one of his History of Magic books to expand on Professor Binns’ rather goblin-centric viewpoint.
“Harry, where are you going?” Ron looked puzzled.
“To the library,” Harry replied.
Ron winced. “Already?”
Harry snorted. “You don’t have to come with me.”
“Thanks, Harry.” The redhead turned back to the game of Gobstones he was playing with Dean and Seamus.
It’s going to take a while to get used to all of these people and noise. The cupboard and my room at The Burrow were a lot quieter.
While walking out of the common room, Harry noticed the twins were the centre of attention in a group of third years, and Percy was nowhere to be found. As soon as he was outside the portrait hole, Harry took out and scanned the Marauders Map. Finding the hallways clear, he put the Map away and walked quickly to the library. Not surprisingly, he found only a handful of students there, including Hermione Granger, who had several large piles of books in front of her. Harry made sure to sit as far from her as he could and sat at a table where he would be facing away from her.
When his homework was completed and several chapters of his magical history book read, Harry pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill, surprised at how excited he was to tell Ginny about his first day at Hogwarts.
The thought also caused a painful ache in his stomach. The boy absently rubbed the area, while he tried to focus on what he would tell his best friend, while trying to ignore the numb feeling that had descended over him.
Ginny,
Thanks for writing, even if you did ask a lot of questions.
I’ve got in trouble already! In Charms class, I forgot I put my wand down, so when Ron asked me to show him how to levitate a feather, I did it wandlessly. Everyone saw me! Professor Flitwick mentioned it to Dumbledore, and I had to talk to him before dinner. A weird thing happened while we were talking. When I told Ron, another first year, the rude girl named Hermione Granger said Dumbledore had done something called Legilimency on me. That’s mind reading. I was mad about Dumbledore not wanting me to do wandless magic, but his Legilimency stuff really got me upset.
Well, that’s about it for the first day. I’m looking forward to flying lessons tomorrow, even though I know they won’t be nearly as much fun as when we went flying at your house. Those were the best times I’ve ever had.
I hope you’re doing okay, without your brothers at home. Ron seems to be doing fine. I’ve asked Hedwig to wait, in case you want to write a letter back. I heard you got some cool stationery and ink for your birthday.
Oh, I’ve written down the classes we had today — Charms, Transfiguration, and History of Magic (with a ghost teaching it!) — and the homework assigned. Let me know if you have any questions.
From
Harry
The numb feeling had grown while he wrote the letter, and his stomach bothered him. I miss Ginny more than I thought. Everything just seems easier when she’s around. Merlin, I’ve got to stop feeling this way. I’m not a baby anymore.
After putting his books and supplies in his book bag and ignoring the pounding headache that had developed, Harry summoned all his available energy, went up to the Owlery, and called Hedwig down to him. Stroking her feathers, he asked, “How do you like it here?” He started scratching the top of her head, and Hedwig leaned into his hand.
“I have a letter for Ginny Weasley. You remember where she lives — we stayed there before coming here.”
The owl looked at Harry like he had just insulted her, so he added, “So, I’m sure you know exactly how to get there. Would you please wait for her reply? She may write a letter for you to bring back.”
Harry tied the letter to her leg. “Have a good flight, girl.”
He took Hedwig to an open window and held his arm out, so she could take off easily. Harry watched the owl gracefully soar upwards until she caught a current, then headed south. Before long, she was just a distant dot in the night sky.
Harry had just left the Owlery when he passed Draco Malfoy in the hallway.
“Why would you be owling anyone? You don’t have any family that’s still alive.”
Harry felt adrenaline surge through his body, both numbing it and heightening his senses. At the same time, a fire ignited in his chest, causing sweat to appear on his neck and shoulders.
Don’t let him get to you. He’s not worth bothering with. Just keep walking.
That’s exactly what Harry did; little knowing that ignoring the sneering boy was probably the best response he could have given.
As soon as Harry was far enough away from the blond boy, he stopped and took a number of deep breaths to calm the racing emotions that shot through his body and to try to calm the nauseous feeling that threatened to overcome him.
I don’t want to go back to the common room like this. What can I do?
An idea formed, and he took out the Map from his bag and began to study it carefully. After several minutes, he found the person he wanted to visit, memorized the directions, and put the Map away. Ten minutes later, his stomach roiling and his head pounding even worse than before, Harry hesitantly approached the location the Map had indicated, but he found no doorway or anything else that resembled an entry.
Standing in the middle of the short hallway, he turned slowly in a circle. During his second revolution, he caught sight of something that made him smile. His hunch was rewarded when a door appeared in what had previously been a blank granite block wall.
Harry took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
A minute later, he was greeted by his surprised professor. “Good evening, Mr Potter. What brings you to my quarters at this hour?” Her tone was not accusatory, but it lacked the warmth he had hoped for.
As she looked more closely at her student, Minerva McGonagall gasped, “Harry, are you alright?”
The boy launched himself at the witch, throwing his arms around her, as if she were his only lifeline. The professor’s arms immediately encircled the boy, pulling him to her and gently rubbing his back. When the boy finally seemed to calm down, she brought him into her flat, keeping an arm around his shoulders, and sat him in a chair, holding his hands in hers.
Kneeling in front of the boy, the professor softly asked, “What’s bothering you, Harry?”
The boy blinked rapidly.
I shouldn’t have come here. I should have found someplace where I could just be alone until I got over this.
He looked at the professor’s grey eyes, though, and saw nothing but concern.
She doesn’t think I’m a freak or a baby. She isn’t going to punish me. She’s concerned about me.
The last thought broke the dam, and the boy’s emotions that been held back all day exploded through the opening.
“Students were staring and whispering everywhere I went . . . I can’t believe I didn’t have a wand in my hand. It wasn’t on purpose . . . Everyone stared at me like I was so different from them. Same thing in your class . . . Hermione got so upset with me for doing better than her, asking a million questions, like she wanted to pull my brain out and examine it . . .” He thought he heard an explosion of air, almost a snort, from the witch. “I was really looking forward to History of Magic and a ghost teaches it, but it’s so boring everyone fell asleep. And then I had to see Dum . . . err, Professor Dumbledore . . . he got upset, I got mad, then he did something inside my head that Hermione called Legealousy or something like that . . .”
“Harry. Please stop there and take several deep breaths. That’s better. Slow down.” Minerva McGonagall intentionally spoke quite slowly, knowing that was one technique to bring an out of control child back to a more reasonable pace and thoughts.
“Did Miss Granger call it Legilimency?”
Harry nodded his head. “That’s it. It was like I could feel something in my head. When I asked Professor Dumbledore what was happening, the feeling stopped, and he told me it was time to go back to the common room.”
Minerva McGonagall’s open, kind expression quickly changed to outrage, then even more quickly, moved to a neutral expression. “Harry, I will see if the headmaster has any idea what happened while you were in his office. Were there any other incidents today that upset you?”
Harry’s head dropped.
“It’s better to get them out. Otherwise, they could fester and become worse.”
He raised his head slightly and scrunched his face. “When there are lots of people and noise in the common room . . .” He exhaled in frustration. “Everyone stares or crowds around me and wants to talk and some of their questions are stupid. It just, I don’t know, I don’t like it. I saw Malfoy when I was coming back from the Owlery, and he said something about me not having anyone to write to.” The professor’s eyes flashed. “The worst was when I wrote to Ginny.” The boy’s voice became a whisper. “I . . . miss her. This is so much harder than I thought it would be.”
“I can only imagine.” She smiled. “Would you like some tea and biscuits?”
The boy stared at his professor, thrown by the abrupt change of subject. He shrugged his shoulders. “Okay.”
As she prepared the tea and brought out a plate of biscuits, the professor continued their conversation. “I am very pleased you came to me, Harry. That took courage on your part and shows why the Sorting Hat placed you in Gryffindor.”
They remained silent until the tea was ready. After pouring two cups, McGonagall resumed speaking. “Harry, it would be very wrong for me to mislead you. The path in front of you will be difficult. Because of your . . . previous circumstances, you are now being faced with a series of dramatic changes in your life. You will be thrown off-balance by some of them, or overwhelmed when they all happen at once, such as today. There are ways to cope with that stress that will help keep you calmer and more able to handle what is happening. I will suggest to the headmaster that we make certain facilities available to you.”
“Like the Room of Requirement?” the boy asked.
The professor stared in shock at the boy. “How do you know about the Room?”
“When I was returning to the common room after talking with Professor Dumbledore, I started walking back and forth, arguing with myself whether I should go back and, uh, talk with him some more. A door appeared in the blank wall, so I went in, and the room was set up exactly like I was thinking. I was really mad, so there were some dummies there. I blasted them.” The small boy snorted. “It helped.”
“That is exactly the room I was going to talk to the headmaster about. Since you’ve already found it — you do understand how the room works?” He nodded. “Then, you can go there when things get too much for you. Just let me know, when you do that. We can train there, also. Is there anything else you do that allows you to get away and relax?”
Harry couldn’t begin to stifle the smile that spread across his face. “Flying.”
Minerva returned his smile. “I should have known. You do know your father was an excellent flyer. Played Chaser for Gryffindor. Did you want to fly?”
Harry nodded his head enthusiastically. “Ginny and I would fly by moonlight. The moon is still pretty full, so it would be light enough. May I?”
His professor looked at the boy, considering his request. Finally, she said, “Yes, this once, and, Harry, it is probably best if we do not tell anyone.”
He smiled. “I understand. Thank you.”
“One last question, how did you figure out how to make the door to my quarters appear?”
Harry smiled again. “It took a little while, but when I saw the grey cat in the picture on the wall, I thought that might be it. I just pet her.”
“Very good, Mr Potter, five points to Gryffindor for creative problem solving.”
The mismatched pair quickly finished their tea, and the professor pocketed the two remaining biscuits, so they could share on the way to the Quidditch pitch and the shed where the school’s brooms were kept.
Starting at the top floor of The Burrow, Ginny Weasley walked through the house, stopping at the vacant bedrooms of each of her brothers, despite knowing she would find no one there. Finally, she entered the room across the hallway from her bedroom, the room of Harry Potter, her best friend. She sat down on his bed, which still contained a faint hint of him, that unique combination of boy, grass, earth, and a spiciness she’d recognize anywhere.
Stop feeling like this. You knew they were going to leave. It happens every year.
You knew Ron would be leaving this year and that you’d be on your own.
Who am I kidding? As much as I miss my brothers, I miss Harry more. C’mon Weasley, it’s only been a day, and he’s already sent a letter, with the classes and homework, just like he promised. Well, it’s not doing me any good to mope up here. Maybe Mum will have some ideas what I can do.
The young girl got up from the bed and went downstairs to the sitting room, where her mum was knitting and her dad was reading the Daily Prophet. Ginny sat down heavily on the sofa, next to her mum and sighed.
Molly Weasley looked up from her knitting, waving her wand so the needles would continue the process while she talked with her daughter. She already knew without a single doubt what the problem was. Or problems were, since the first was the echoing silence of all her sons being gone for the first time. The second and bigger problem was the absence of the newest member of their family, Harry Potter.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart? You hardly ate any dinner at all.”
Ginny sighed again. “I’m bored, I guess, with everybody gone.” Normally, she wouldn’t say anything close to that, since it was an invitation to her mum to assign chores, but even those would be better than her mopey, lethargic feeling.
“It is a big change this year, with Ron finally going off to Hogwarts.” Molly peered at her daughter. “I would imagine it will take a while to adjust to everyone being gone, especially Harry.”
Ginny’s head jerked up, then she tried to mask her reaction by saying, “It’s just a big change, going from a full house to just us.”
Molly smiled. “I bet you’re going to miss the midnight flying with Harry.” Ginny’s head snapped up even more quickly this time. Molly’s smile remained in place. “Yes, I know you two were sneaking out and flying in the paddock area for the past week. I told Harry I knew before we put him on the train.” Molly laughed. “He reacted much like you did.”
Ginny’s head dropped down so it was almost resting on her chest. With a full blush on her cheeks, she asked, “You’ve always known I’ve sneaked out?”
“Yes, dear, since you started four years ago. I needed to make sure you were a good enough flyer that you wouldn’t hurt yourself. Both you and Harry are such natural flyers. You do things beyond any of your brothers, except maybe, Charlie. Oh, and don’t worry, I didn’t watch you all the time, every night; just enough to make sure you two were alright. Ginny, it’s understandable you’ll miss that and Harry. You’ve grown quite close.” Molly put her arm around her daughter. “You’ve been a great friend to him.”
Ginny leaned into her mum, laying her head on her shoulder. “It kinda hurts, you know, like there’s a hole in my stomach. I just hope he’ll be okay at school.”
Arthur moved over to the sofa and kneeled in front of his daughter, taking both of her hands in his. “If it helps, Firefly, I’m sure Harry misses you as much as you miss him.”
“Oh!” Ginny said. “That reminds me. Harry wrote that he forgot and did wandless magic in Charms and had to see Professor Dumbledore.” Ginny saw the wide-eyed reaction of both of her parents. “It wasn’t on purpose. Ron asked him how he’d Levitated a feather, and Harry showed him. Unfortunately, he’d forgotten he’d set his wand on the desk. Everyone saw him do that.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Arthur said, “even if it was accidental. I know the headmaster didn’t want that ability to be widely known”
“What’s Legilimency?” Ginny asked.
Both parents shook their head at the quick change in subjects. Molly asked, “Why do you want to know?”
“Harry thinks Professor Dumbledore did that to him when they met yesterday. He described the feeling to Ron and some other Gryffindors, and one girl said it was Legilimency. But what is it?”
Arthur frowned. “Legilimency is when one person enters the mind of another in order to see that person’s memories. Sometimes the person knows it is being done. Other times, permission is not requested. Professor Dumbledore is an accomplished Legilimens, but I strongly doubt he would enter a student’s mind without first asking.” Arthur looked at Molly and raised an eyebrow.
Ginny shrugged. “Well, that’s what Harry wrote. It doesn’t sound like a nice thing to do without asking.”
Molly perked up. “I know, Ginny. Why don’t you and I go out to the paddock, and you can fly?”
Ginny’s head shot off her mum’s shoulder. “Really?”
“Sure. You go to the shed and get a broom, and I’ll be out in a minute.”
Ginny shot to her feet. “That’s great. Thanks, Mum.” The back screen door banged shut moments later.
Molly turned to Arthur. “What do you think of all this?”
Arthur took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second. “It bothers me. Albus has a rocky relationship with Harry, so he could have wanted to gain some insight into what the boy was thinking.”
“But Arthur, that’s just wrong,” Molly insisted. “Harry doesn’t trust Albus already. How do you think he’ll take this latest news, whether it’s correct or not?”
“It will drive Harry even further away from Albus.” Arthur rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Albus has made some poor decisions as far as the boy is concerned. I think we should watch this very closely. We are his guardians, after all, and we need to ensure that Harry’s welfare is a priority.”
Molly nodded her head. “I agree. The boy has enough to think about, without anything else being added.”
“Good. That reminds me. Harry mentioned wanting to visit his houses soon. When you talk with Ginny, have her ask Harry when he wants to do that. I want to hear how he describes the feeling that he thinks was Legilimency.”
“I’ll do that.” Molly walked out of the house and towards the shed, her maternal instincts consuming her.
As the two Weasley witches walked to the paddock area, Ginny quickly agreed to ask her pen pal about the house visits and also said she’d ask about the feeling that occurred while he was in the headmaster’s office.
“I’m going to write him when I’m done flying, so Hedwig can deliver it in the morning. Harry said her arrival during the Welcoming Feast caught everyone’s attention.”
“Thanks, dear,” her mum said. “As long as you don’t mind, we would be very interested in hearing what Harry says.”
“Oh, that’s fine. I’ll let you know when I get the letter.”
They arrived at the paddock, and Ginny looked out across the grassy expanse, almost as if she were seeing a ghost.
“You see him, don’t you?” Her mum asked, placing an arm around her daughter’s shoulder.
Ginny nodded, while blinking rapidly. She mounted the broom, but before she kicked off, Molly said, “Picture Harry flying with you. It may help.”
Ginny nodded her head and shot into the late summer sky, racing to the far end of the field, looping back, and speeding even faster towards her mum, who had sat down by her daughter’s favourite tree.
“Wooo hooo!” The sound exploded from Ginny’s chest, as she followed the borders of the rectangular area, following the line carved by the fence, then staying just inside the trees on the three other sides.
Next, she took the broom through a series of rolls, shallow high speed dives, and abrupt changes of direction, as Molly smiled at her daughter’s flying abilities. She’s already better than I was as a seventh year Chaser.
She watched as Ginny did a continuous upward corkscrew, making the circles tighter as she moved higher in the night sky. After levelling out briefly at the top of the tallest trees, Ginny leaned forward and launched the broom into an almost vertical descent. Molly’s heart leapt to her throat as her daughter gained speed. With the grass approaching at a breakneck speed, Molly couldn’t hold back her raging emotions any longer.
“Ahhhhh!”
A second later, her daughter joined her mum in a tremulous two-part harmony.
Molly forced herself to keep her eyes open and was both relieved and incredibly impressed when Ginny pulled out of the dive so close to the field her shoes brushed through the grass.
Molly gulped air, finally aware that she had been holding her breath during the entire descent.
After skimming along at ground level for twenty, thirty metres, Ginny pulled the broom up and made a lazy arc, moving back to the tree tops and slowly rotating in a circle, naming each of their stars, planets, and constellations.
“Sirius, Bellatrix, Narcissus . . .”
She started as a warm feeling encompassed her body inside and out. Immediately, she turned the broom so she was facing north, certain who had sent the feeling to her and smiling at that knowledge.
With her breathing and adrenalin level back to normal, Ginny pointed the broom down in a shallow arc and returned to where her mum now stood open-mouthed. Landing several metres in front of her, Ginny’s grin overwhelmed the moonlight.
“Merlin, that felt great,” she exulted. “That’s the first time I’ve done the Wronski at night without Harry here. Wait ‘til I tell him in the letter tonight.”
As they walked back to The Burrow, the broom slung over her shoulder, Ginny said, “I wonder what Harry is doing tonight.”
Harry looked down the row of school brooms and selected what he thought was the best one. All were slightly older Comets. He smiled at Professor McGonagall and exited the shed.
Walking along the path to the Quidditch pitch, Harry began a story. “Just before we got on the train, Mrs Weasley told me she knew that Ginny and I had been flying at night. Ginny thought she’d been fooling everyone since she was six and started sneaking out and flying whenever the moon was bright enough and the weather okay. She was going to tell Ginny she didn’t have to hide it anymore. Ginny’s an incredible flyer.”
Minerva smiled. “If you have not learned already, very little gets past Molly Weasley. After those boys, especially the twins, I can imagine she has developed a sixth sense for what is going on at The Burrow.”
Harry snorted. “I think the twins got most of their talents from their mum.”
The witch smiled. “You are probably right, Mr Potter.” They entered the pitch. “Please do not fly all night now.”
Harry grinned and rocketed into the moonlit night, first speeding to one end of the stadium, looping over, and speeding back. His professor walked up a flight of stairs and sat on one of the benches so she could watch her young student more closely.
‘Wooo hooo!’ Harry thought to himself, knowing Professor McGonagall would be displeased if he had actually yelled with all the energy he felt. He traced the oval outline of the stadium, leaning into the gentle curves and trying to get maximum acceleration coming out of them.
He moved the broom into the centre of the stadium and worked on a series of rolls, shallow high speed dives, and abrupt changes of direction, including flying directly at the stadium walls and getting as close as he could before curving away or rising above them. McGonagall smiled at Harry’s innate flying abilities. He could be one of the best Seekers we have seen since Charlie Weasley. Harry may already be better on a broom than James was.
She watched as Harry sped the broom around the stadium, adding height with each turn, until he was well above the top of the stadium where he levelled off. The small boy leaned forward and launched the broom into an almost vertical descent. Minerva’s heart leapt to her throat, as Harry gained speed. With the grass approaching at a breakneck speed, Minerva gasped, her hand shooting to her mouth.
“Merlin!” she whispered to herself.
She was mesmerized by the sheer artistry of the boy’s flying, the speed, control, and instinctive bonding with a broom he had never been on before. Minerva felt like leaping to her feet and applauding loudly when Harry pulled out of the dive so close to the field she could see his shoes separating the blades of grass.
A very proprietary expression dominated the Gryffindor Head of House’s face.
Harry slowed the broom down as he skimmed along the turf for twenty, thirty metres. He brought the front of the broom up and made a lazy arc, moving high above the top of the stadium and slowly rotating in a circle, naming each of his and Ginny’s stars, planets, and constellations.
“Sirius, Bellatrix, Narcissus . . .”
Facing to the south, a warm feeling surrounded him, forging a connection, he had no doubt, with his best friend. Though the feeling faded, his smile remained.
Feeling better than he had all day, Harry pointed the broom down in a shallow arc and returned to the pitch where Professor McGonagall stood, the warmest smile he’d ever seen lighting her face. Landing several metres in front of her, Harry’s grin almost brought tears to her eyes.
“Merlin, that felt great,” he said, his face alight. “Thank you, Professor. Wait ‘til I tell Ginny about this in my next letter.” He paused. “Is that okay, Professor?”
The professor entertained his request for a moment. “Yes, you may. Please remind Miss Weasley that this information is for her only.” The witch smiled with her eyes.
“Thank you!”
“Now, Mr Potter, please tell me how you are able to perform a Wronski Feint of that calibre virtually in the dark?”
Harry smiled to himself and launched into the description of the feelings he had when doing the Feint or any other manoeuvre, because conscious thought had nothing to do with the way he flew.
As they walked back to the castle, the broom having been returned to the shed, Harry thought to himself, I wonder what Ginny is doing tonight.
When they entered the Entrance Hall, Professor McGonagall said, “Your wandless lessons will continue next week, but I still need to select a time and day. You will be advised when I do.” The witch cast a spell that gave the time. “I will walk you to your common room, since you are out after curfew. Besides, I wish to speak to Wood.”
Harry looked at her quizzically, but didn’t receive an answer to his unasked question. Who or what is ‘wood?’
The portrait opened automatically for the Head of House, and the witch and wizard entered the room, which immediately quieted as the students got sight of the professor.
She stopped and looked around, before nodding. “Come with me, Potter.”
Harry smiled at her return to the severe professor personality that dominated while she was in front of students at Hogwarts. They stopped by a tall, good looking wizard, who appeared to be a fifth or sixth year. He looked up, then quickly stood up.
“Hi, Professor McGonagall.”
“Wood, I’ve found you a Seeker.”
The pronouncement was made loudly enough that almost everyone in the common room heard it and turned to stare at Harry. He tried with scant success to ignore the attention but the warm first feelings of a blush immediately began on his neck and quickly worked their way up to his cheeks, finally settling with a scorching presence on his forehead.
Wood eyed him. “You’re Harry Potter, aren’t you?”
The suddenly mute first year nodded his head.
“The twins have been bugging me about giving him a tryout. They say he’s a natural Seeker.”
“He is, Wood, maybe as good as Charlie Weasley already.” Professor McGonagall’s lips began to twitch.
“How do you know this, Professor?” Wood asked.
“Sheer dumb luck, Wood.” Finally, her smile broke through, looking just like a cat sneaking up on its unsuspecting prey.
Wood’s smile reflected hers exactly. “The Cup will be ours again,” he whispered.
“Don’t fail me, Wood. You know how much I hate that other House winning both the House and Quidditch Cups each year.”
A moment of understanding passed between the Head of House and her Quidditch Captain. He nodded.
“I will leave you, then.” She surveyed the room. “Don’t stay up too late, please. You will want to be well rested for your second day of classes.”
With a brief nod to Wood and Harry, the professor left the common room.
As soon as the portrait swung shut, noise broke like a wave over the room. Harry found himself surrounded by his Housemates, being pounded on the back, his hand shaken, and hearing repeated congratulations.
Above the commotion, one voice stood out. “Harry will be the youngest Seeker in over a century.”
All eyes turned to the redheaded speaker, the family’s Quidditch expert. Ron Weasley turned a spectacular red that seemed to engulf his entire head. Harry noticed that Hermione Granger had just closed her copy of Hogwarts: A History, but she couldn’t hide the small smile on her face. Harry looked at the witch, trying to figure her out, but another wave of verbal and physical congratulations swept over him, including a sneaky kiss on the cheek from a witch, who disappeared before he could see who it was.
The commotion finally subsided, encouraged by Percy’s reminders that the next day was a school day. Ron and the twins escorted Harry to the First Years’ dorm, all three talking over the others. Ron couldn’t wipe the smile off his face, making Harry wonder if the Quidditch fanatic felt he would be that much closer to the House team through his roommate being on the team. The bookends launched into twin-speak.
“Wood is crazy . . .”
“. . . nuttier than a fruitcake. But . . .”
“. . . he’s an excellent Keeper, though . . .”
“. . . his practices are legendary, . . .”
“. . . and that’s before we leave the locker room.”
Harry’s eyes swept from George to Fred and back again.
“What?”
“Wood is fanatical.”
“He spends as much time on diagramming plays, as practicing them.”
“So, be ready for the team to take a lot of your spare time.”
“But it will be mainly as we get closer to the actual games.”
“You see, there are only three games per season. One against each of the other houses.”
“You should be fine, especially since you’ve already read through third year.”
“Welcome to the team, Harrikins.” Both twins chorused and rubbed his head, as if it would bring them good luck.
“Good night, firsties.”
Ron shook his head. “At least you’re already familiar with the twins. Otherwise, that performance could have done some damage.”
The two boys entered their dormitory, and after another round of congratulations from their roommates, quickly prepared for bed. Lying in the four-poster, Harry stared at the shadowy canopy above him.
What a roller coaster this day has been, from the wandless mistake in Charms and the meeting with Dumbledore to learning about the Room of Requirement and making the Quidditch team.
With everything that’s going on, it might be best if I try to blend in more, so I won’t attract as much attention.
Wonder if I’ll stay the entire night in this bed. Somehow, it feels a bit more comfortable tonight.
Chapter 23: Known, Unknown, and Clueless
Author's Notes: Hi guys, I was out of town all last week and unable to work on the story. So, sorry for the delay. I can assure you I would have much preferred working on SH than what I was doing.
Here's another chapter where I feel I should emphasize the AU aspects of the story: Days and times of classes may vary from canon, as well as events . . . and other things.
You will notice some brilliant – and quite familiar – prose in this chapter. Some quotes and descriptions are taken directly from Chapter Eight of HP and the SS (US hardback). I’m sure you’ll know what I am referring to when you reach that part of the chapter. Some of the section was “borrowed” as is; others were tweaked a bit to fit the voice and circumstances of this story. As you may guess, this scene is one of my favourites in JKR’s entire series.
As always, my thanks to cwarbeck for her exceptional beta work!
September 3: Second Day of Classes
Harry Potter watched the graceful descent of his snowy white owl, Hedwig, as she and many other post owls delivered their mail at breakfast.
At least she won’t attract as much attention this time.
Harry held out his arm, and Hedwig softly landed, then held out her leg. Harry immediately recognized the handwriting on the outside of the envelope and tucked it in an inside pocket of his robes, to be read later, away from prying eyes.
Fifteen minutes later, Harry, Ron, and the other first year Gryffindors departed the Great Hall for their first DADA lesson.
“Fred and George said yesterday’s DADA classes were cancelled, because the professor was ill. Hope he’s still sick,” Ron said, with a hopeful grin.
“Ron!” Hermione admonished, but the lanky redhead ignored her.
As soon as the first years entered the classroom, Ron and Harry’s jaws dropped. Their professor was feeling better. More surprisingly, their professor was Remus Lupin.
He noticed their stares and said, “Good morning, Mr Weasley, Mr Potter, please find seats, so we may begin quickly.”
Harry looked around and noticed the Ravenclaws had already taken most of the front rows, so he joined the other Gryffindors seated towards the rear of the classroom.
I wonder why Professor Lupin didn’t tell us he’d be teaching when he brought the pensieve memories to the Weasleys’? Maybe Dumbledore told him not to say anything.
Professor Lupin cleared his throat. The students immediately quieted and turned their attention to the haggard-looking teacher. He quickly took roll, making notes on a piece of parchment, then turned his attention to the subject. “As I’ve written on the board, my name is Professor Lupin. In case you may have heard already, I am a last minute replacement for another professor, who apparently got lost on vacation in Albania, strangely enough, and has not been found yet.”
The pronouncement was met by widespread murmurs throughout the classroom. Lupin let the comments continue for a few moments, then resumed his introduction. “Those of you who have older brothers or sisters may have been told about the curriculum typically used in first year Defence Against the Dark Arts classes or DADA.”
Harry noticed Ron nodding his head.
Lupin smiled briefly. “This year will be different. With the headmaster’s concurrence, we will study more active approaches to defence than the typical coursework has offered in the past. Instead, you will learn to defend yourselves against attack, so the focus this year will be on shields and other defensive measures and learning counter-curses to stop the attacker.”
An explosion of noise greeted the professor’s announcement, as the students enthusiastically responded to the news with smiles and positive comments.
The professor again smiled briefly, then said, “Please settle down, so we can proceed. By a show of hands, who already knows the basic Shield Charm Protego?”
Several students immediately raised their hand, including Harry and Ron. “Good. Mr Potter, why don’t you come up?” As Harry moved to the front of the classroom, the professor asked, “Who knows the Disarming Spell Expelliarmus? Mr Corner, please join Mr Potter.”
“Gentlemen, on my count of three, Mr Corner, please cast the Disarming Spell, while Mr Potter tries to block it with his Shield Charm. Please stand facing each other about three metres apart. Ready?” Both boys nodded. “One . . . two . . . three.”
“Protego!”
“Expell . . .”
Corner literally flew backwards a metre before he could finish casting the spell.
Harry rushed over to this classmate. “I’m sorry. Are you alright?”
The student looked stunned but shook his head and accepted Harry’s offered hand. “H-how did you do that?” Corner blinked a couple times.
Harry shrugged. “Don’t know. Are you feeling okay?”
By this time, Professor Lupin had joined them. “I’m sorry, Mr Corner. I did not expect anything like that to happen. Mr Goldstein, would you accompany Mr Corner to the Hospital Wing? Oh, do you know where it is?”
Goldstein had already gotten up from his desk and was walking towards his Housemate. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Please explain to Madam Pomfrey what happened and that she can contact me should she have any questions.”
Corner’s face had turned quite red. “Professor, I’m fine. I don’t need to go to the Hospital.”
Lupin put a hand on his shoulder and replied quietly, “I’m sure you’re fine, Mr Corner. This is just a precaution.”
The boy nodded silently and left with Goldstein.
“Mr Potter, you may return to your desk.” The professor turned to the class. “I apologize for this unexpected outcome. Please understand that Mr Potter did nothing wrong. He cast the Shield Charm exactly as requested, so something out of the norm must have occurred.”
The rest of the class went smoothly as the remaining students practiced Shield Charms and Disarming Spells first against Professor Lupin, then pairing up and casting them against each other. Harry was paired with Ron and was able to restrict the force of his spells sufficiently to not repeat what he had done to Michael Corner. After dismissing the class, Professor Lupin caught Harry’s eye and gestured for him to stay.
Once his classmates had left the room, Harry walked over to his parents’ former friend, obviously puzzled by the summons.
“Harry, you are not in trouble for knocking Mr Corner down. I could see you were as surprised as he was. After your last class today — Herbology, isn’t it? — please see me here.” The wizard smiled wanly. “I think we have several subjects to discuss.”
Harry nodded. “S . . . sure.”
“Good. Have Madam Hooch see me if you’re late, and I’ll explain I kept you after class. Oh, if you haven’t already returned Professor Dumbledore’s pensieve, bring it with you.” The tall, slender man smiled more warmly this time. “Now get going.”
Harry looked at his professor for a moment, nodded his head, then sped out the door, arriving just as Madam Hooch began talking to the assembled students.
“I seem to have left the class list in my office. Do not attempt to do any flying while I’m gone.” She stared at the group with hawk-like yellow eyes. “I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”
Harry had joined Ron and Neville, when an already familiar voice rolled over the quiet conversations that started just after Madam Hooch had departed. “Well, look what I found here. Longbottom, isn’t this your Rememberall? What good it is it, though, if you forget where you put it? Why don’t you do us all a favour and leave Hogwarts now, before you’re kicked out?”
The students in both Houses turned and glared at Draco Malfoy, who was standing several metres behind the group, tossing the Rememberall in the air, his usual sneer on his face.
Neville whispered, “I wondered where it was. Must have fallen out of my pocket.” Then, in a tremulous voice, he said, “G-g-give it here, Malfoy.”
“Come and get it, Squib. That is, if you can fly.” Malfoy swung his leg over the broom and kicked off.
Hermione screeched, “He can’t do that. Madam Hooch specifically forbade it.”
Ron looked at her and shook his head, then returned his gaze towards Malfoy, who had stopped the broom at a height of four or five metres.
“You’re going to lose more points for us, Malfoy.” Daphne had a disgusted expression on her face.
Tracey added, “What a pathetic example of a Slytherin you are.”
“Malfoy, you’re not impressing anyone. Get back down here,” Blaise Zabini yelled, while the rest of the students looked at the blond wizard with expressions that ranged from bored disinterest to outright irritation.
Harry had been watching Draco casually tossing the Rememberall up into the air, then catching it again. With the next toss, Harry subtly pointed his hand at Malfoy and thought ‘Accio Rememberall.’
Malfoy’s eyes bugged out as the small sphere immediately changed course and a moment later landed in Harry’s hand.
“Mr Malfoy! What are you doing up there after I left instructions not to fly in my absence? Get down here now!” Madam Hooch’s voice startled the students but immediately brought smiles to their faces.
When Malfoy landed in front of the flying instructor, she said, “Ten points from Slytherin and a week’s detention with Mr Filch. Report to him tonight.”
“I can’t see him tonight,” Malfoy said angrily.
“And why is that, Mr Malfoy?”
Trying to maintain his last shred of dignity but failing dismally, the blond wizard replied, “I already have detention this week.”
Hushed laughter spread throughout the two Houses.
“I’m not surprised. See him next Monday, then,” Madam Hooch said, shaking her head. She turned her attention to the other students. “Well, what are you waiting for? Everyone stand next to a broomstick . . .”
Within five minutes of getting a majority of the students into the air, Madam called out, “Mr Potter, please see me.” When he landed, she smiled and quietly said, “I see why Min, err, Professor McGonagall put you on your House team. Born to the broom you are.” Harry tried but couldn’t hold back a smile. “Would you help some of the students who are still on the ground?”
“Sure.”
Harry looked around and saw that most the Gryffindor wizards were in the air. Neville’s flying looking surprisingly coordinated, while Dean Thomas’ eyes were wide, and he held onto the broom so tightly Harry could see his hands had turned a light milk chocolate colour.
Hermione looked at her broom fearfully, as she pleaded unsuccessfully for it to rise “up” to her outstretched hand. Her roommates, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil weren’t even trying, so Harry moved his gaze towards the Slytherins. Crabbe and Goyle looked like a comedy team, flying very slowly about two metres above the grass and occasionally bumping into each other. Theodore Nott looked disdainful as he stood off to the side.
Finally, Harry noticed Daphne and Tracey were gesturing for him to join them.
“Do you need some help?” he asked.
Both witches grinned. “We know how to fly,” Tracey admitted.
“Just not in the mood to do it now,” Daphne said. “Tell you what,” she lowered her voice. “We’ll fly in a minute and make you look good.”
“Not that you need it.” Tracey grinned at him. “Youngest Seeker in over a century.” She fanned her face. “I’m feeling faint from your mere presence.”
Harry immediately turned red.
Tracey put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I was just teasing.”
“I k . . . know,” Harry finally choked out. He nodded his head upward. “Time to fly?”
Both witches grinned and easily kicked off. Harry shook his head, since it was obvious both girls were quite comfortable on a broom. He joined them, and with Ron, Neville, and Blaise quickly started a game of tag with the girls.
After the class was over, the same group walked back to the castle, chatting easily and ignoring the looks they received as they moved through the hallways to the Great Hall. Once entering the hall, they reluctantly parted and went to their respective House tables. None of them noticed the last two students from the class, who had entered the hall quite separate from the others.
Draco walked slowly to the Slytherin table and sat at his usual spot, alone at the end of the table closest to the professors. Despite the virtual banishment from his Housemates, Draco’s anger and arrogance were obvious to many of the other Slytherins at the table. Their reactions varied from concern that he would again lose House points due to some ill-considered comment or action to irritation at the superior attitude Malfoy still conveyed.
The second student, Hermione Granger, sadly scanned the long Gryffindor table, finally sitting close to, but not with, Lavender and Parvati.
Harry ate his lunch quietly, immersed in his thoughts and not participating in the general kibitzing going on around him.
I need to talk with Susan Bones next. Merlin, this is tough. Tracey and Daphne were easy, because they came to the train car. But Mr Weasley wants me to do this, so I will.
As soon as he finished his lunch, Harry rose from the bench and looked down the expanse of the Hufflepuff table, searching for Susan Bones. He finally found the young witch sitting towards the far end of the table, her shadow, Hannah Abbott, next to her as usual.
Harry took a deep breath and walked in their direction, trying to memorize their physical features.
Okay, Susan’s a bit taller than me. Ha! Almost everyone’s taller than me, so that’s not much information. Okay. She has long, medium brown hair, and it’s always braided. Hannah’s easier, with her yellow blond hair in those pigtails. She’s one of the few students my size. Oh God, she’s staring at me. Okay, remember to breathe.
Susan and Hannah — and many of their Housemates — stared at Harry as he approached them. Susan rose from the bench when she finally figured out Harry wanted to talk with her. Hannah followed seconds later. Both girls regarded him with curiosity but not in an unfriendly manner.
“Um, hi,” Harry said in a somewhat hoarse voice.
“Hi, Harry,” Susan replied. “You know who I am?”
He nodded quickly. “Susan B . . . Bones.” His eyes moved to the blond witch. “And you’re Hannah Abbott.” He took a deep breath. “I just . . . um . . . I just learned that the P . . . Potter and B . . . Bones families are related . . .”
Susan smiled and Harry relaxed slightly. “I saw that, too, on our Family Tree. I think it was about three centuries ago. I guess that makes us twelfth cousins or something.”
Harry returned her grin, then just as quickly, became serious. “I’m just learning this stuff.”
Hannah gasped, then looked at the ground as her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink. She finally looked up. “Sorry.” She instinctively patted his hand. “It’s all new to you?”
Harry nodded, feeling the perspiration beginning to form on his forehead and upper lip. “Yeah, I lived with my Muggle aunt and uncle.”
Hannah straightened up and her blue eyes brightened. “I, uh, that is, we would be happy to help fill in some of the gaps.” She looked at Susan for support.
The taller girl nodded her head. “Just ask. Okay?”
“Th . . . thanks.”
“Harry, we better get going to Potions,” Ron said, startling his roommate and the two witches. Neville stood awkwardly behind Ron.
“Oh, right. Uh, just a second,” he said and he introduced his dorm mates to the two Hufflepuffs.
As the three boys prepared to leave, Hannah put her hand on Harry’s arm. “We’ll see you in Herbology later.” She smiled.
“Uh, yeah, see you then.” He looked at Susan and nodded goodbye.
“The twins said Snape hates Gryffindors,” Ron said quietly, as they hurried down the hallway towards the dungeons.
“Why?” Neville asked.
Ron looked around. “He’s the Slytherin Head of House.” Ron stopped there, as if his comment explained everything.
But why would he hate Gryffindors?
Harry entered the dank classroom and sat between Ron and Hermione. He looked around, returned Blaise, Daphne, and Tracey’s smiles, and tried to ignore Draco’s sneer and the questioning looks from the other Slytherins.
Ron’s comment was bad enough. I wonder if Professor Snape will favour his Slytherins. This classroom has the strangest feeling to it, almost like it’s angry.
Harry was trying to shake off the negative feeling that had come over him when the door in the rear of the classroom banged open, and Professor Snape swept into the room. Without any introduction, he began taking roll, speaking in a highly exaggerated drawl in which each syllable was pronounced separately, as if it had no connection to any other. He paused at Harry’s name.
“Ah, yes,” he said softly, “Harry Potter. Our new — celebrity.”
The word had been pronounced slowly and with equal emphasis on each syllable.
Malfoy and several other Slytherins sniggered openly.
The emotion coming from Professor Snape’s cold, black eyes puzzled Harry. It’s almost like he hates me. But why? We don’t even know each other.
“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making,” the professor began. “As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this a magic.” His eyes briefly bored into Harry’s. “I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through the human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses . . . I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”
Ron and Harry exchanged worried looks. Hermione had moved to the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn’t a dunderhead.
“Potter!” said Snape suddenly.
Harry’s head snapped up, and he focused on the professor’s words.
“What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”
Harry briefly closed his eyes. I know this. I remember reading about it. When he opened his eyes, he noticed Ron looked stumped, but Hermione’s hand was frantically waving high above her head.
“Uh, you would get a p . . . powerful sleeping potion, the Draught of Living Death . . . sir.” Harry’s response was so quiet the other students leaned forward to hear what he had said.
Snape’s eyes widened maliciously. “Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”
Hermione’s arm shot up so quickly it threatened to dislocate her shoulder.
Why doesn’t he call on Hermione or someone else? What’s up with him? Harry swiped at the sweat that had beaded on his forehead.
“Professor, a bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat. It will save you from most poisons.” As soon as Harry finished giving the answer, his eyes dropped to the top of his desk, so he missed the dangerous look that burned in the Potion Master’s eyes. He did glimpse Hermione fanning her face, as if she had suddenly become overly warm.
With a sneering smile, Snape spit out the next question. “What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?”
Hermione had become so agitated she stood up from her desk, her hand stretching towards the dungeon ceiling and a desperate anticipation rolling off her.
Harry again answered quietly. “Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, Professor. It’s also known as aconite.” Sweat began to trail down the boy’s back, causing his shirt to stick to him.
The eyes of every student in the classroom had been switching between the Potions Professor and Harry Potter. As soon as the boy had answered the last question, their eyes returned to the professor.
Several students gasped, causing Harry to raise his eyes and look directly at Snape. His gaze was met by two jet-black coals that blazed back at him.
“That will be five points from Gryffindor, Mr Potter, for reading ahead,” Snape hissed. “Fame clearly isn’t everything.” The professor straightened up and his eyes swept across the classroom. “Well? Why aren’t you all copying that down?”
Harry immediately dropped his eyes back to the desktop. I’ve just cost my House five points for giving the right answers? That look he gave me. Snape hates me. Why? We don’t even know each other.
The hushed chatter from the other students reached him. My Housemates are upset at me for losing the points. The Slytherins must think I’m a show-off.
Harry brushed the heel of his hand across his forehead again. At the same time, he vaguely became aware of a slight rumbling noise surrounding him. He looked up and saw Ron, Hermione . . . and Professor Snape staring at him with startled expressions.
“Harry!” Ron whispered urgently. “Calm down.”
Harry immediately began to take deep breaths, trying to slow down his heartbeat, which had reached a thundering level. He closed his eyes and tried to picture something calming. The next thing he knew an image of the pond came to him. He and Ginny were sitting on the shore, chatting and smiling at each other, the emerald water contrasting with the cerulean sky.
The heat and noise dissipated.
Harry felt Hermione’s eyes on him. He turned slightly in her direction. Before she averted her eyes, Harry saw several emotions fighting for dominance — anger, disappointment, and . . . something else. She had turned too quickly. Harry looked at the young witch, hoping she would turn towards him again. When she didn’t, he looked at Ron.
The redhead’s face was flushed. “You were close on that one, Harry. You okay now?”
Harry nodded, then looked up to see Professor’s Snape’s head turning away from him, but he fleetingly saw a puzzled look on the man’s face before it disappeared from view.
The remainder of the double class was conducted in the same nightmarish fashion, as Snape made the twins’ assessment seem benevolent.
“Longbottom, two points off for not crushing your snake fangs sufficiently,” Snape snapped.
The Gryffindors looked at Neville’s cauldron, frowning and whispering to their desk mates when they noted that his Boil-Curing Potion was the same colour and consistency as any other student in class.
“Potter — why didn’t you tell Longbottom to crush his snake fangs correctly? Thought he’d make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That another point you’ve lost for Gryffindor.”
Harry squeezed his eyes closed and focused on his breathing. I can’t let him get to me. Just do your best. Take deep breaths.
Harry could hear the other Gryffindors complaining and hoped it wasn’t about him losing even more points. He glanced as subtly as he could at Ron and Hermione and took some solace in the fact that they both were angrily staring at Snape.
The class ended shortly after that. Ron and Harry bottled up their potion and turned it in, both boys feeling they had got it right, since the liquid was the colour and consistency mentioned in the text book.
Harry could see Ron was barely holding back a comment as they walked out of the classroom and down the hallway. As soon as they went up the stairs to the Entrance Hall, the redhead exploded.
“He’s worse than the twins said, and I thought they were exaggerating. What a slimy git that guy is . . .”
“Ron! You shouldn’t talk about one of our professors like that.”
Ron whipped around and stared at Hermione. “Are you mental? Snape hates Gryffindors. Did you see how he went after Harry and took points even when he was right on all those questions? I bet no one else in class knew all those answers.” Hermione winced but didn’t respond. “Then, he criticized Neville for nothing. Did you see him make one remark to anyone in his House or take any points away?”
Hermione shook her head. As soon as Ron turned back, Hermione blinked rapidly and made a beeline to the nearest loo. The rest of the group had already resumed their trek through the Entrance Hall to go outside for their first Herbology class and didn’t notice her absence.
The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students were arranged around the planting tables in Greenhouse #1, when Hermione quietly entered, just prior to Professor Sprout beginning the lesson. Everyone was chattering, so no one other than Harry, who was facing the doorway, noticed that the bushy-haired girl’s eyes with red-rimmed and still held a noticeable amount of moisture. Hermione looked around the long table for an open spot, but, with a look of acute disappointment, finally ended up next to two Hufflepuffs at the end of the table.
Susan and Hannah, who were at the table next to Harry and Ron had explained that Professor Sprout was their Head of House. Harry couldn’t hold back a smile when he glanced at the witch. She looked like someone who worked with plants and soil, since her robes were covered in dirt, her left cheek was smudged, and her fingernails had dark half moons under them.
The professor finished re-potting a plant that kept trying to grab her nose and turned around to address the students.
“Listen up, first years! We will learn how to care for a wide assortment of magical plants this year. You will be restricted to Greenhouse #1, because the least dangerous plants are kept here. You also will learn the uses of these plants, since many of them have medicinal or other beneficial properties.”
After Snape’s questions, I need to make sure I don’t answer anything in this class unless she calls on me. I really don’t want to stand out anymore than I do already.
Harry’s attention returned to the lecture, when he heard Professor Sprout ask, “Who can tell us about the snapdraconis? Yes, the witch in the back.”
All of the students turned and saw Hermione straighten up to her full height and heard her voice take on an authoritative tone. “Snapdraconis, or snapusdraconistatus, is a member of the Bitem Family, most of which can harm but not kill people with their bite. The snapdraconis is one of the least threatening members of the family, since the flower is soft, it lacks teeth, and is easily torn from the stalk. The best known member of the family is the Venomous Tentacula.”
The professor was smiling by the time Hermione had finished her textbook perfect answer. “Two points to Gryffindor for that recitation, Miss . . .”
“Hermione Granger, Professor.”
“Show-off,” Ron whispered loudly enough that several nearby students laughed softly at his comment.
“Class, your assignment today is to de-leaf these snaps. You will remove any leaf from the stem that is not adjacent to the flower. You are not to deflower the snaps under any circumstances. Since they do bite, the plant should be approached from behind.”
Harry heard muffled sounds and looked around to see where they were coming from. Seamus and Dean had their hand over their mouth, both looked flushed, and tears were rolling down their cheeks. Both Hannah and Susan were giggling. Harry shrugged and turned back to the professor.
“. . . take three plants each and remember to keep the flowers pointed away from you as you de-leaf each stem. Any questions? No? Get started, then.”
The students walked over to the table at the far side of the greenhouse. When Harry picked up his three pots, Hannah said, “Be careful not to deflower any of them, Harry.”
He wasn’t sure how to respond to that comment, so he just returned her grin and went back to his table. The task was simple as long as the flowers were pointing away, and Harry began to quickly strip the leaves from the stems. He became lost in the assignment until he felt something pressing against his left side. When he finished stripping the second plant, he looked to his left to see what was causing the pressure against his side.
Harry flinched when he saw Hannah Abbott standing next to him, seemingly oblivious that their bodies were touching from their shoulders down to their thighs. He immediately turned red and moved about six inches to his right.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Hannah said, with a smile. “I hadn’t realized I was that close to you.” She squeezed Harry’s hand and turned back to her plants.
The rest of the lesson progressed without incident, and a mixed group of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs chatted all the way back to the castle. When they arrived at the Entrance Hall, Susan, Hannah, Ernie Macmillan, and Justin Finch-Fletchley waved goodbye and headed downstairs to their dormitory. As soon as Harry reached the Gryffindor common room, he went straight to his room, dropped off his book bag, and retrieved Dumbledore’s pensieve from his trunk as Professor Lupin had requested.
When Ron looked at him curiously, Harry explained, “Remember? I have to see Professor Lupin now. I’ll see you in the Great Hall if the meeting runs long.”
“That’s right.” Ron nodded his head. “See you later.”
Harry left quickly, checking the Marauder’s Map when the portrait closed to the common room. While he made his way to the DADA classroom, a number of questions about his parents’ friend came to the boy.
The door to the classroom was open, so he walked in. “Professor?”
Remus Lupin appeared at the door to his office. “Up here, Harry. Come on up.” Once they were settled in the office, Lupin asked, “Do you want some tea?”
“Thank you.”
As the professor busied himself preparing the tea, Harry again wondered about the unusual feeling he got from Professor Lupin. He seemed nice enough, but there was another part of the man that wasn’t similar to anything Harry had felt before.
Until he does something to make me worry, I guess I’ll just ignore this feeling.
The professor handed the cup of tea to Harry and sat down.
He smiled briefly. “You’re probably wondering why I wanted to see you.” Harry nodded his head. “Well, again, you’re not in trouble over the incident in class. Professor McGonagall had mentioned how powerful you are, but I still underestimated. I’m sorry I put you in that position. Please forgive me.”
Harry looked at the man. Adults don’t apologize. Where’s he going with this? He finally shrugged his shoulders. “It’s okay.”
“I would be happy to work with you independently, so you could gain familiarity with your magic, its strength, how to use it most effectively.” The professor’s voice showed enthusiasm for the first time.
“I start working with Professor McGonagall next week for that,” Harry replied, still trying to figure out his parents’ former friend.
“Ah, yes. She and Professor Dumbledore said she would be working with you on your wandless abilities. I was hopeful I could work with the two of you.”
Harry again shrugged his shoulders, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling that continued to grow.
Remus sighed. “What’s bothering you, Harry?”
The boy’s eyes ignited. “You were a friend of my parents.” Lupin nodded. “Why did I just meet you a week ago?” The boy’s voice turned cold. “If you were such a good friend of my parents, why didn’t you visit me during the ten years I lived with the Dursleys?”
Remus closed his eyes, blocking the decade’s worth of doubts, self-criticism, and loathing that had followed him since his world exploded at the same time Harry’s had.
“Those are legitimate questions, Harry. The simple answer is that neither I nor anyone else could have visited you. Professor Dumbledore decided it was in your best interests to hide your whereabouts.”
Harry closed his eyes briefly. Everything, everything goes back to Dumbledore. There were lots of people I could have lived with instead of the Dursleys.
The boy’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the family friend. “Did Dumbledore ever ask if I could live with you?”
Remus Lupin blanched. “No, there were — and continue to be — circumstances that precluded that.” When he saw Harry’s reaction, Remus quickly added, “It had nothing to do with you, Harry. It was . . . is . . . me.”
Wave after wave of heat broke over the boy. “What about Sirius Black or Peter Pettigrew?”
Remus’ eyes widened. “You don’t know? Harry, you better speak with Professor Dumbledore.”
Harry felt something hot on his right thigh. He looked down and saw that his tea had sloshed over the sides of the cup. He looked up and saw Lupin blotting liquid off the top of his desk.
The boy shot to his feet and shakily put the cup on the desktop, feeling like his world again was crashing inside.
I need to get out of here, before I hurt him or his office.
He bolted towards the door.
“Harry! Where are you going?”
“I can’t stand this. I need to get out of here.” Harry sprinted out of the office.
Ignoring the confused and sometimes irritated looks, the shouted comments and questions, and the discordant noise that seemed to follow him at the same pace, Harry raced down hallways and up stairs until he reached the only place he could think of.
I need a place where I can get rid of my anger and not hurt anyone or anything . . .
With the third repetition, the desperately desired door appeared. Harry yanked it open and raced into the room. Dozens of dummies lined the walls.
Harry moved quickly to the nearest group and pointed at a dummy, levitating it to the ceiling and slashing his arm down. The dummy shattered at impact on the concrete floor. Harry tried to ignore the visage of Albus Dumbledore that had been on the dummy.
The next dummy shot towards the five-metre high ceiling and exploded against it. Debris rained to the floor below.
One manikin after another was flung against the ceiling, floor, or walls of the room. Harry began to alternate hands, until an idea came to him. Using both hands simultaneously at a blurred speed, he directed two dummies at each other. The collision sent the remaining rubbish flying across the room.
Harry didn’t notice the outcome, because he had summoned two more dummies. With a slashing motion from each hand, he flung the dummies at each other so they collided at a height of two or three metres. Fragments again littered a large area.
Harry had already started his next exercise. He pulled two dozen manikins away from the wall in front of him with a mild Summoning Charm, so they stood in a line about five metres from the wall. He quickly moved in front of the manikin at the far end to his right. With a violent motion from his right hand and arm, the dummy was dispatched so quickly it shattered against the wall before Harry’s arm had finished the motion.
Eleven more manikins were destroyed in the same manner.
Harry stalked to the far left end of the row and demolished the remaining dozen dummies using his left hand. It was impossible to discern any difference in the destruction wrought by each hand.
Cold, bitter embers were all that remained from the fire that had come close to consuming the boy. He collapsed to the floor, as if his bones and muscles had abandoned him. Tears flowed like lava, feeling like they left molten trails through his skin, as they ran down his cheeks.
What did I do to deserve this? Why did Dumbledore keep everyone from me? Did my parents do something so horrible Dumbledore is punishing me? Does he think I’ll do the same thing?
I can’t stand this any more.
The small boy cried until he had nothing left. No tears, no emotions, no feelings, no thoughts. He felt empty inside. If he never moved again, if no one found him, he wouldn’t care.
With his body heat dissipated, the boy began to shiver. At first the feeling of cold, a form of numbness, was welcome. But it soon sank into his bones, his heart, his soul. His body began to shake convulsively. The boy squeezed his eyes closed, trying to seal himself away from these feelings.
I can’t let this get to me. I have so much to do. Mum and Dad told me in those dreams. They told me it’s important.
Mr Weasley wants me to bring the Houses together. I can’t let him down.
I can do this. I can’t let Dumbledore stop me. I still don’t understand why he’s made all these decisions, kept me away from everyone, stuck me with people who hated me. But I survived the Dursleys. I knew what to do. I can do it again. I have to.
I have Ginny.
A smile came to the boy’s face for the first time in hours. He reached into his robes and pulled out an envelope with the familiar handwriting on the outside.
Dear Harry,
Whoops!
It wasn’t fair for Dumbledore and McGonagall to tell you not to do wandless magic. That’s what you’re used to. So, my advice is, don’t worry. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Sooner is better.
I told Mum and Dad about Professor Dumbledore doing Legilimency on you. I’m not sure they would want me to tell you, but they were both upset that he would do that to you. I have a feeling they might say something to him.
It is really different without anyone here. I’ve always had Ron, and even though he’s a prat sometimes, he’s always been here. I just have to adjust to the changes, I guess. Having you telling me what’s going on helps a lot, so you have to continue writing me. Okay, Harry?
I already read the first couple of chapters, so I’m in good shape there. I do the spells without my wand, so the Ministry can’t track any underage magic. I went to the pond to try wandless magic but nothing happened. I’ll keep trying, though.
Okay, I don’t want you to laugh when you read this, but the strangest thing happened last night. Mum let me know it was okay to fly, so we both went out to the paddock area. I flew around kind of showing off, then I sat up at tree top level and looked at our stars.
Harry, you won’t believe this, but I felt you. It was like you were there with me. Please don’t take the mickey out of me about this, because it felt so real. I want to believe it was.
Oh, I did a full Wronski. Mum almost died. But it was perfect. I love flying and now I don’t have to hide it any more.
I hope you’re doing okay, Harry. I know there’re a lot of new things for you to get used to. Just think of me, if you need some help. I’ll be there, because I know you’d be there for me.
Let me know how your second day went!
Your best friend,
Ginny
Harry felt like he was waking up from a dreamless sleep. Energy began coursing through his body. His arms and legs — everything — came alive. His strength returned. A warm feeling flowed through his body, filling him up inside, and giving him hope once more. The boy couldn’t stop smiling.
We did the same thing, sitting in the sky, looking at the stars. I knew it was Ginny, and she knew it was me. I’ve got to write to her.
“Room, may I have a quill, parchment, and a chair and desk so I can write a letter to Ginny?”
Seconds later, Harry was sitting at the desk, writing a letter to his best friend.
Dear Ginny,
I felt the same thing you did! I was sitting on a broom, above the top of the Quidditch pitch, and looking at our stars, when I felt you with me. I wouldn’t tease you about that. I had gone to talk with Professor McGonagall . . .
When he finished the letter, Harry asked, “Room, may I have an envelope, please?”
He wrote Ginny’s name on the outside, then remembered he needed to ask the Gringotts goblins to make his properties safe for the Weasleys for their Saturday visit. He quickly scribbled another note and addressed it to Griphook. Once that was completed, Harry found he had enough time before dinner to go to the Owlery and got up to leave. Before he reached the door, though, he stopped and looked around.
“Thank you, Room. It really helped to get all this out of my system. Sorry for the mess.”
Harry walked out of the room smiling, but stopped in his tracks when he saw Professor Lupin waiting for him in the hallway.
Harry felt his anger heating him again.
Stop it! Let him say why he’s waiting here.
Harry took several deep, calming breaths.
“Hi, Professor.” He walked towards the wizard.
The professor glanced up and down the hall. “Hello, Harry. Can we try again?” The boy stared at the wizard for several moments, then nodded. “Good. Shall we talk while we mail those letters?”
On the way back from the Owlery, Remus exclaimed, “He did what?”
Harry repeated himself. “Professor Snape took five points from me for reading ahead. He figured that was the only way I could have answered his questions correctly.”
“And he called you a ‘celebrity?’”
“Yes, sir.”
Lupin stopped in the middle of the hall and looked around. “Harry, we have the headmaster’s pensieve in my office. Would you allow me to extract your memory of the class? It won’t hurt.”
“Will it make things worse in Professor Snape’s class?”
“Only if the headmaster doesn’t do anything about it.”
Harry paused for several moments. “Okay.”
The professor and his student returned quickly to his office. Lupin explained the process. After Harry had collected his memory of the class, the professor placed his wand against the boy’s temple and removed it. The memory proved to be a very long and thick strand.
Once it was placed in the pensieve, Professor Lupin entered the memory, as Harry waited in his office. When the professor returned, he was fuming. “I think I need to speak with Professor McGonagall, since it affects her House and maybe others, for that matter.”
Harry nodded his head, still not sure this was a good idea.
Remus took a pinch of Floo powder and put his head in the flames once they had turned green. “Professor McGonagall’s office.”
“Hello, Pro, err, Minerva, we need to meet at your earliest opportunity . . . Seven tonight? That’s great . . . I’ll see you at your office.” Lupin turned to Harry. “May I use the memory and pensieve, so I can show it to Professor McGonagall?”
Despite the gnawing feeling that this could blow up in his face, Harry reluctantly acceded to his professor’s request.
Lupin smiled. “Let’s go to dinner. Your mates are probably wondering where you are.”
After an uneventful dinner, the Gryffindors returned to their common room. The noise and activity again proved to be too much for Harry, so he escaped to the library, sitting away from the few other students who were there, including Hermione Granger. The witch’s head rose slightly when her Housemate entered the library, but her eyes quickly returned to her book when she saw he sat elsewhere.
The only homework assigned came from Snape, so Harry reached for his Potions book and began writing about the need to grind snake fangs properly and the timing of adding dried nettles to the Boil-Curing Potion. When he had finished about half of the essay, Harry felt a presence near him.
“May I join you?”
Harry looked up and quickly had to snap his mouth shut. He refocused several times before he knew for sure who the person was.
“S . . . sure.”
Hannah Abbott pulled out the chair to Harry’s left and sat down. “Thank you,” she said with a smile.
Harry continued to look at the young witch, until understanding finally dawned on him. “Your hair is different.”
A bright smile lit Hannah’s face and she briefly squeezed his hand. “Thanks for noticing. I keep it in pigtails most of the time because it’s easy. Sometimes I like to do something special with it.”
She took out several books, parchment, an ink bottle and quills, while Harry continued to assess her hair out of the corner of his eye.
It’s loose and wavy now and goes across her forehead, not pulled straight back like before. It looks . . . pretty.
Harry’s head snapped up, as the strangest feeling made its presence known. Why am I noticing this stuff. This isn’t right. He shook his head in response to the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Hannah apparently hadn’t noticed Harry’s reaction. When she turned to him, she again was smiling. “What are you working on?”
He grimaced. “A Potions essay on snake fangs and dried nettles.”
Hannah nodded knowingly. “We had the class yesterday and the same essay. I’ve finished mine. Did you want to look at it?” She ended her offer with her eyebrows raised, which made her blue eyes appear even bigger than usual.
Harry shook his head to pull his eyes from hers. What’s wrong with me tonight? “Uh, no thanks, I have a pretty good start on it.”
Hannah looked at him, an inquisitive expression on her face. “What did you think of Professor Snape?”
Warning bells started going off in Harry’s head. I don’t know her well enough to say what I really think. I know what I’ll do.
“He’s, uh, different. What did you think?”
Hannah looked around to make sure no one was within listening distance of them, then she leaned close to Harry, who stifled his instinctive reaction to move away from the girl.
“He took House points from both us and the ‘Claws,” she whispered. “A lot of the students were complaining. He seemed . . . mean . . . not nice at all.”
Harry blinked rapidly, trying to get rid of the warm feeling Hannah’s breath on his ear had caused. He did the same thing to the other two houses, just like the twins said. Merlin, she’s close to me. If I turn my head to talk, our noses would touch.
Harry shifted his chair slightly so he could create some space between them. “Snape took five points from me even though I answered all of his questions correctly.” When Hannah’s eyebrows raced up her forehead, he added, “He penalized me for reading ahead.”
The young witch furrowed her brow. “He took House points when you were right? Did you read ahead in the text book?”
Harry nodded. “Yeah. I’ve read through the third year in all of the subjects.”
Hannah’s eyes widen so quickly Harry became concerned they would pop out. Then, another concern arose. I shouldn’t have told her that. If she tells anyone, I’ll get even more attention.
“Uh, Hannah, please don’t tell anyone that I’ve done that. Okay?” Harry could feel perspiration beginning to form on his forehead. “I wasn’t really studying them, you know.”
Her immediate smile made him relax, but when she put her hand on his shoulder, Harry tightened up again. “Don’t worry, Harry, your secret’s safe with me.” She finished by squeezing his shoulder. His confusion grew when she didn’t remove her hand.
“Th . . . thanks. Uh, I guess we should get back to the homework.” He looked hopefully at the girl.
Hannah grinned. “If you insist.”
Harry silently took a deep breath of air when she finally took her hand off his shoulder. He quickly picked up his train of thought on the Potions essay while Hannah worked on Transfiguration. Half an hour later, he had completed and rechecked the essay. He glanced at the girl’s parchment and saw that she had completed about two-thirds of the Transfiguration essay.
I want to go back to the dorm now. Do I just tell her I’m leaving? Wouldn’t that be rude? Why did she want to sit with me anyway? This is really uncomfortable.
When Harry put his book, essay, and writing utensils in his book bag, Hannah looked up in disappointment. “You have to go?” she asked softly, her eyes shifting to her unfinished essay.
Harry felt a stab of pain in his stomach. Though it quickly subsided, the memories of being left so many times while growing up remained.
He shook his head. “I have another book I can read until you’re finished.” He pulled Cunning Charms from his bag.
Hannah’s smile let him know he had made the right decision. “Thanks, Harry. That’s very nice of you. I’ll hurry.”
Harry returned her smile. “Don’t hurry. You don’t want Professor McGonagall marking you down.”
Hannah’s eyes quickly moved to the essay, then returned to his face. “I’ll just tell her Harry Potter distracted me.”
He couldn’t hold back a snort and immediately felt the old librarian’s eyes drilling into his back from across the room. “She would mark you down even more for saying that,” he whispered, and the two children grinned at each other.
Hannah reached over and squeezed his hand. “Thanks, Harry.” She returned to her essay and began writing, while Harry read his book.
Twenty minutes later, the two students walked out of the library, unaware they were being watched closely. The observer followed, staying a discrete distance from them and walking along the side of the hallway where alcoves and suits of armour provided places to hide should the need arise.
A look of curiosity, approaching a frown, crossed the person’s face, as the female of the duo occasionally bumped into the boy’s side or brushed her hand or arm against his. The wizard’s physical reaction was quite interesting. He seemed to be bewildered and uncomfortable; he stiffened slightly at each contact, and was obviously trying hard not to run away. Both parties stopped, when the duo reached the dual staircases, one leading downward; the other to the upper floors.
“I guess this is where we part,” Hannah said, her blue eyes smiling at the boy. She took a small step towards him, halving the distance between them. “It was fun talking with you.”
Before he could say anything, the witch quickly kissed the boy on the cheek, then quickly moved down the stairs.
Hannah stopped on the third step down. “Goodnight, Harry.” With a smile and a wave, she continued down the stairs, leaving a dumbstruck Harry Potter on the landing, his hand lightly touching his cheek.
What was that about? Why did she kiss me? God, this doesn’t feel right at all.
Harry mindlessly turned and began walking slowly up the stairs, his stomach feeling like the world’s wildest roller coaster had just taken residence in it.
How am I supposed to act around her now? What does she want from me?
The list of unanswerable questions grew as Harry made his way towards Gryffindor Tower. After a few moments, he realized someone had called his name several times. He winced when he realized the voice calling out was female.
“Harry!” The tone was sharp, almost demanding.
He turned and tried not to look upset when he saw Hermione Granger striding towards him. “What was that back there? Second day of school and you already have a girl friend? What will Daphne, Tracey, and Susan think?”
Harry saw Hermione’s reaction to his anger before he felt the heat building inside him. She backed up several steps, her eyes wide and fearful.
He quickly closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing slowly and deeply. Think of something peaceful.
Immediately, he was racing through the night sky at The Burrow, his best friend mirroring his broom’s movement. Both Ginny and he wore huge smiles. The joy of flying, of being with Ginny, streamed through him, calming his nerves and cooling his anger.
He opened his eyes.
Hermione’s emotions cascaded in mere seconds, moving from anger to shock and recognition and finally ending with remorse and embarrassment.
A second later, she fled up the stairs.
“Hermione. Stop.”
She didn’t.
Harry stood on the stairs, wondering what had just happened with these two witches.
Why was Hannah being so friendly? What am I supposed to do? Was Hermione watching us? Why did she yell at me? If she was mad, why did she look like she was going to cry when she ran away? God, I don’t understand any of this. Who can I talk with?
At precisely seven o’clock, while Harry and a few other students were in the library, Remus Lupin’s head appeared in the green flames of Minerva McGonagall’s quarters.
“May I come through, Minerva?”
“Of course, Remus. I’ve been expecting you.”
Remus emerged from the flames, which immediately returned to their usual red and soft yellow colours. He carried a pensieve in his hands and walked across the sitting room and placed the large bowl on the dining table.
“Minerva, you’ll want to see this.” He extracted a phial from his robes and poured Harry’s Potter’s memory of the after lunch Potions class into the pensieve and moved his wand over it. “After you.”
McGonagall leaned over the bowl and was quickly followed by her colleague once she had entered the memory. As the professor watched the proceedings, her expression became increasingly sour, until, at the end of the double period, the witch looked like she wanted to curse the imaginary figure of the Potions Professor.
Seconds later, they returned to her quarters.
“That is intolerable.” The witch angrily strode the full length of her sitting and dining rooms, her eyes sparking with righteous indignation. “How can someone who purports to be an educator attack an eleven-year old like that, especially one with the disadvantaged background that Harry has?”
The witch reversed her direction. “He took five points from the student for giving the right answer? And another point off for not involving himself in another student’s potion, who was sitting two rows behind him?”
Each of the last seven words rose in both pitch and volume.
“‘Celebrity? Fame isn’t everything?’ Remus, this is far worse than the worst nightmares I’ve had about Harry and Severus.” Minerva McGonagall stopped and collected herself. “Over the years, I have heard repeated rumours about Severus’ bias towards his House, but I had no idea he was so blatant in his treatment.” Her eyes flared again. “No wonder Slytherin wins the House Cup every year.”
“That is why I wanted to bring this to your attention, Minerva. His treatment of Harry is one issue which must be dealt with, and we both know the history behind his behaviour.” Remus’ normally neutral eyes took on an unaccustomed heat. “His treatment of the other Houses also may require intervention. If Harry’s memory is representative of the environment in which Potions is taught at this school, measures need to be taken. Minerva, I’m sorry to bring this to your attention on the second day of school, but as Head of Gryffindor House and Hogwarts Deputy Headmistress, you would be involved in both issues, regardless.”
Minerva nodded her head. “On the contrary, Remus, I am very motivated to see that changes are made. This memory will add credence to all the words I’ve expressed to Albus Dumbledore over the past decade. I have another issue with the headmaster, which I was going to discuss with him tonight.” Her eyes narrowed. “It promises to be a very interesting meeting.” The witch issued a tight-lipped smile.
“Do you want me to participate, at least in the issues I’ve brought to your attention?”
McGonagall considered the question for several moments. “Thank you, Remus, but I think it is best handled by just myself at this point. The issues raised fit in with the other concerns I have.”
Remus nodded his understanding. “Let me add one more item to your list. Harry seems to harbour very strong negative feelings towards Albus. I had him come to my office after his last class today. Harry knows I was a friend of his parents, so he asked several questions. Each answer came back to decisions Albus made regarding Harry — living with the Dursleys, instead of me, Sirius or Peter, for example . . .” McGonagall gasped. “Yes, I know. Harry appears to lack an understanding of what happened to him and why, which makes Albus’ decisions look worse than the reality may be. He also wondered why he had been cut off from everyone in the wizarding world, especially those who had known him or his parents previously.
“Minerva, I thought he was going to explode in anger. Books, parchment, desks, windows, all were vibrating. Thankfully, he raced out of my office and went to a room on the seventh floor. He forgot to cast a Silencing Charm, and the sounds continued for fifteen, twenty minutes, before stopping. Minerva, it sounded like he was destroying something for that entire time. Another twenty minutes passed in silence before he left the room. He came out with two letters in his hand. I saw that one was addressed to Ginny Weasley.”
“Remus, the room has been set up for Harry for all the reasons you can imagine, including the wandless training I will resume next week with him. There is a lot more to the room, so please forgive me if I do not discuss it further.”
Remus got up to leave. “If I can be of assistance, please let me know. I would appreciate hearing anything you feel comfortable sharing.” The wizard’s shoulders slumped. “Harry’s questions made me realize how much I have failed the boy. I want to help him in any way I can.”
“I understand, Remus. I do, too.” The professor took a deep breath. “I will let you know the results from my conversation with Albus. Thank you for responding so quickly to what you saw and for sharing them with me.”
“Good luck, Minerva.’
Throwing a pinch of powder into the fireplace, Remus Lupin returned to his quarters.
The questions continued to pummel Harry Potter as he became rooted to the stairs leading to the Gryffindor common room, frozen by his inability to understand the actions of Hermione, Hannah, and Professor Snape.
I don’t want to go back to the common room yet. I can’t handle the noise and people staring. What if Hermione’s there and she starts yelling again?
I don’t want to go back to the Room. Maybe I can walk around outside.
The small boy reversed his direction and descended the stairs. Exiting through the large wooden doors in the Entrance Hall, Harry immediately saw that enough light remained for him to walk around the grounds. He immediately headed for the lake.
Sitting by the shore, the light breeze ruffling his hair, Harry tried to soak in the details of the lake like he had with the pond. The lake is huge. It almost feels cold. The pond felt friendly and safe. This place makes me feel small.
The lowering sun coloured the lake in steel blue, making it look hard and inhospitable. Harry instinctively drew his knees towards his chest and wrapped his arms around them, as a way to ward off the chill he felt in the air.
He looked over his shoulder at the castle. It looked even larger and bulkier in the fading light, as shadows merged and grew, painting the blocks of granite in sombre tones that conveyed the feeling that the structure would be there far longer than any of the people it housed.
I hadn’t realized how comfortable I felt at The Burrow. I don’t feel that way here. I guess it will take a while. I wish I had someone to talk with about this stuff. I can’t talk with Professor McGonagall about Hannah or Hermione. That would be weird. Ron wouldn’t understand either, and I wouldn’t know if the twins were having me on or what.
I wish I knew what was up with Professor Snape. He seemed to hate me, but we never met before. Did he know my parents? I can’t go to McGonagall after just one class, and Dumbledore wouldn’t tell me the truth. Professor Lupin just forgot about me for all those years, so he wouldn’t help.
I wish Ginny were here. Then, I wouldn’t have to worry about those other girls. I wonder what Ginny would say.
The boy snorted. I can see her now. ‘Mr Potter, don’t you know it is impossible to figure out what a witch is thinking. Don’t even try or else you’ll get a massive headache. Just listen to me.’ Okay, Ginny, I’ll just listen to you and not try to figure out other witches. I get enough headaches as it is.
The boy laughed softly to himself at the image of Ginny giving him advice on girls.
The chilling breeze blowing off the lake and through the shoreline trees reminded Harry that he had been outside for far longer than he had anticipated. Getting up from the now damp grass, he picked up his book bag and wrapped his robes more tightly around him.
By the time he entered the common room, all but a few sixth and seventh years had already retired for the evening. The older students looked up briefly, and upon seeing who had entered, went back to their conversations and studies. Harry sped up the stairs and quietly entered his dorm room, where he was greeted by a cacophony of snores and other sleeping sounds.
Harry quickly put his books away, changed into his pyjamas, and brushed his teeth. Returning from the loo, he passed his wardrobe and wondered if he should sleep there this night.
No. I need to get used to this. Oh, I know. I’ll do a Silencing Charm.
Harry slipped into bed, cast the spell, smiled as the silence surrounded him, and lay down. Soon, he fell asleep.
“Prompt, as usual, Minerva. Lemon drop?”
“No, thank you, Albus.” But she noticed that the headmaster’s eyes glanced briefly at the pensieve she had brought with her. “I have several issues to discuss with you. Would you join me in the pensieve memory?”
Dumbledore looked curiously at his Deputy Headmistress as she moved her wand over the pensieve. “Of course, Minerva.”
The Deputy and Headmaster of Hogwarts entered the pensieve. Minerva McGonagall watched her colleague closely, knowing he was a master at maintaining a neutral expression, even in light of unexpected or dramatic events. Seemingly faster than the first time she had seen the events, the two educators left the memory.
“This is from Harry?” Dumbledore sat down heavily in his chair, as McGonagall returned the memory to its phial.
“Yes, it is, Albus, from their lesson today. Do you need me to list the grievances I found when I visited the memory, or may we dispense with your usual protective game-playing regarding Severus?”
The headmaster sighed. “I will talk with Severus. He obviously is letting his past history with James affect the way he deals with Harry.”
“No, Albus, that is not a sufficient response.” McGonagall spoke softly, but her voice carried a decade’s worth of accumulated abuses. “What transpired today is not education. He acted arrogantly and inappropriately with the Gryffindor students in general and towards Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter, specifically. He took off points, when in reality he should have awarded them. There are probable school-wide ramifications to his actions. We’ve gone well beyond the point where I can tolerate this type of behaviour any longer from a Hogwarts professor. Please answer my question again.”
Albus lowered his half-moon glasses and slowly rubbed the bridge of his long, crooked nose. “Perhaps we are looking at this from the wrong perspective. You know why I have placed Severus on our staff. He needs to maintain this cover so he can resume his work for us when the need arises again. And trust me, Minerva, it will arise again.”
Professor Minerva McGonagall caught and held Dumbledore’s blue eyes as if he were a first year student. She shook her head in disgust. “Hogwarts is the pre-eminent magical educational institution in the world. Do not attempt to misdirect this conversation or the issues that I am attempting to raise. Do you wish to discuss these issues or shall I tell you what needs to happen?”
“Harry — and many other students — learn best through adversity,” Dumbledore replied. “Look at how well he came out of the situation with his relatives.”
McGonagall’s eyes blazed. “How dare you! Harry learns best in a positive, encouraging environment, as I’ve witnessed and been part of. As for the perdition with his so-called relatives, we can only thank Merlin he did not die at their hands. He came out of there malnourished, distrustful, and hugely angry. It is only through the ministrations of the Weasleys and his own innate abilities that Harry can function at all. He still carries — and may for the rest of his life — the emotional and psychological scars from the abuses heaped on him by those sad excuses for human beings.”
Albus shifted in his chair, sitting straighter in it, as he peered down at his guest. “Minerva, I can’t be seen as showing any favouritism towards Harry. That perception would have a seriously negative effect on morale throughout the entire student body.”
Professor McGonagall rose from her chair and stared down at the headmaster. “That is not the issue here, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. We have three issues; each involves your Potions Professor. As you well know, the first is his inexplicable and thoroughly unprofessional display during class today towards not just Harry Potter but also Neville Longbottom.
“Second, we have had numerous discussions about his blatantly one-sided taking and awarding of points. He makes a mockery of the House Cup. Severus must be told to abide by the rules or suffer the consequences.
“Third, he does not teach. He intimidates children. There was no teaching done in his entire double session. Again, this is not the first time, or even the tenth, that we have discussed this problem.
“Albus, you have seen for yourself. It’s time for you to do your job. We, as educators, have that responsibility to our charges. I, for one, will not fail in that responsibility, and Merlin help you, Albus, if you do not do what is right, instead of taking the easy route as you have done previously.
“You do not want me as an adversary.”
Albus Dumbledore slumped in his chair, looking every year of his century-plus age. “You are right, dear friend. Thank you for reminding me that it is our decisions that define us. I will ensure that Severus understands that his actions have consequences. He will be told that adjustments need to be made by the end of the week. I will observe in my usual manner, but please keep me informed of anything you hear.”
The Deputy Headmistress spoke softly. “Thank you, Albus, I had fervently hoped you would understand my concerns. I trust that you will do the right thing if Severus proves incapable of making the necessary adjustments.”
“You are welcome, Minerva. Now, is there anything else you wish to discuss?”
Minerva McGonagall issued a small, tight smile. “Just one more issue,” she said lightly. “What were you thinking of, using Legilimency on Harry Potter?” Each subsequent word gained in power.
Dumbledore winced. “Another mistake, I’m afraid. He did not respond well to my questions, and I had hoped to gain some insight into his thinking. Alas, it was a dismally poor decision on my part.” The headmaster looked at her curiously. “How did he know it was Legilimency?”
McGonagall smiled. “Hermione Granger. Apparently, she overheard Harry describing what he felt when you entered his mind. She told him it was Legilimency, which she had learned about in her independent reading. If Miss Granger and Harry ever start working together, it will be comparable to the Marauders or the Weasley twins, but on an entirely different level.
“Albus, is it necessary for me to tell you the chasm between Harry and you has grown again? That was pure foolishness on your part. You know that Harry is extremely sensitive to his surroundings and how it affects him. If that mistake wasn’t bad enough, Remus Lupin told me just this evening that Harry asked a series of questions about decisions that have affected his life. It turns out that you had made all of those decisions, and Harry became furious.
“Harry desperately needs a male to mentor and nurture him. I am doing my best from the female side, but I can only do so much. You will find Harry is an absolutely wonderful young man once you’ve gained his trust. Please, Albus, do not make any more harebrained decisions like using Legilimency on the boy. I don’t think you are too far from losing him at this point.”
Albus Dumbledore gazed directly into the eyes of his Deputy. “Thank you for having the courage to show this old man the many errors he has made.” He smiled. “You know, I do count on you to do that . . . occasionally.” They both laughed lightly. “I will endeavour to do as you ask. I will speak with Severus tomorrow and place him on probation if I don’t receive the proper responses. He and I have discussed each of the issues, except, of course, for his mistreatment of Mr Potter today. If need be, I will show him the memory and explain the circumstances under which it was obtained.
“The folly of making decisions based on the greater good has never been shown more strongly than in those I made on Harry’s behalf. I will strive to repair the rift between us and to base my decisions on his needs. I still would like to protect his childhood as best I can through these few remaining years.”
“A noble objective, Albus, just make sure you don’t protect his childhood and lose the boy.”
With that, Minerva McGonagall bid her headmaster a goodnight and left him to his thoughts of Harry Potter and the difficult tasks that lay ahead of him.
Chapter 24: Witches and Friendship
Author's Notes: Even the most innocent of actions may have unanticipated ramifications, as Harry finds out in this chapter. We also see what happens with Severus Snape after Minerva had her talk with Albus.
My wonderful beta, cwarbeck, had to work overtime on this chapter to ensure that the right thoughts were expressed by the right people. Thanks for keeping me on track, cel! You definitely earned the bouquet of cyber-roses that have been sent to you.
Hedwig led a parade of four owls that landed in front of Harry at breakfast the next day. He smiled in recognition of the envelope she was carrying and promptly untied it, placing it in a pocket in his robes for reading later. Hedwig waited patiently until Harry remembered to offer a large piece of bacon, some toast, and several slurps of pumpkin juice as thanks for another job well done. After receiving a few scratches by her ears, Hedwig hooted goodbye and took off for the Owlery.
A screech owl offered an envelope that bore the crest of Gringotts Bank. Harry quickly confirmed that his properties were now safe for the four Weasleys to enter this coming Saturday, and he placed that envelope in the same pocket.
Two barn owls held a long, narrow package at each end. Harry looked at it curiously, especially when he saw a piece of parchment attached to it that said ‘OPEN IN YOUR DORM ROOM.’
Reacting to a feeling coming from the professors’ table, Harry looked up and immediately saw the thin smile and sparkling eyes of Professor McGonagall. He nodded as discretely as he could, while trying to hold back a smile that threatened to spread across his face.
It’s gotta be my Quidditch broom. I wonder which one. A Nimbus 2000 would be too much.
Harry squashed those thoughts and turned to Ron. “We’re set for Saturday.”
Ron looked confused for a short moment, then brightened. “That’s right.” He stared at the package. “Aren’t you going to open it?”
Harry shook his head and whispered, “The note says to open it in our dorm room.”
Ron grinned. “Then, what are we waiting for?” He grabbed two pieces of toast and a sausage, then stood up and looked at Harry expectantly.
Harry shovelled in two more forkfuls of eggs and gave the last pieces of sausage to the two barn owls. They bobbed their heads and flew off towards the open windows at the top of the hall.
Harry virtually had to run to keep up with his long-legged friend. Finally reaching their dorm, Harry tore off the thick wrapping paper.
“Merlin, it’s a Nimbus 2000,” Ron exclaimed, reaching out a hand but stopping just before he touched the broom.
Harry smiled at Ron’s enthusiasm. “It’s okay,” he assured Ron, and he handed to broom to the wide-eyed redhead.
“Watch this, Harry.”
Ron placed his index finger under the broom’s shaft, where it met the aerodynamic twigs. “It’s perfectly balanced. Plus, it now holds all of the speed, acceleration, and braking records. Most of the professional teams used the 2000 last year.”
The obvious question finally dawned on Ron. “Who bought this for you? First years can’t have their own broom.”
“Professor McGonagall bought it as a House broom.” Harry grinned. “She’s just letting me use it.”
Ron grinned back. “No one on a Comet will catch you on this.”
Harry started laughing. “I think that was the professor’s idea. She told me she was tired of losing to Slytherin.”
Ron nodded. “The twins told me she loves Quidditch and is very competitive.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. Maybe we can fly it after History of Magic this afternoon.”
Ron eyes threatened to pop out of his head. “You’d let me ride it?”
“Yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t I?” Harry tried to minimize the surprised expression on his face.
“No reason, I guess.” Ron smiled at him. “Thanks a lot.”
“No problem. Guess we should get going to Charms,” Harry said.
“Oh, yeah. I forgot about it.” Ron shook his head. “A Nimbus 2000.”
Harry shrunk the broom and placed it in the special compartment in his trunk, then locked the trunk.
Harry tried not to stand out in the three classes, wanting to hold to his commitment to keep attention off himself. Hermione rushed in to fill the vacuum created by Harry’s decision. Her arm waved like a flag on a windy day at each and every question posed by their professors. Harry held back several times in Charms and Transfiguration to ensure that she would be the first to accomplish the assigned task.
I stayed with the Weasleys for a month and was able to practice magic every day. Plus, Professor McGonagall helped me a lot, so I’ve had more time than Hermione has. She’s Muggle-born, so she probably couldn’t practice magic at home. She seems happier now that she’s finishing first and answering most of the questions.
Ron held other opinions. In Charms, he muttered to himself several times about Hermione’s academic enthusiasm. When they left the classroom, Ron whispered to Harry, “She’s mental, that one,” and shook his head.
Coming out of Transfiguration, his comment was expressed at almost normal volume. “She’s a bloody show-off. Does she know the answers to everything?” Ron peered at Harry. “Were you skiving off?”
Harry shook his head, while crossing his fingers in his pocket. Ron stopped grumbling only after they had sat down at the House table for lunch in the Great Hall.
After finishing a dish that Hermione called ‘chicken cacciatore,’ Harry walked over to the Ravenclaw table, accompanied, as usual, by stares from a number of students.
“Excuse me, Michael.”
Michael Corner turned around, and scowled when he saw who had spoken to him. “What do you want, Potter?”
Harry shrugged his shoulders. “Just wanted to see if you were okay. I’m really sorry about what happened in Defence yesterday.”
Corner stared at Harry for a moment, then said, “I’m okay, but I’m still not sure what you were trying to do.” He abruptly turned around, leaving Harry opened-mouthed and embarrassed. The Gryffindor started to walk away.
“Harry?”
He turned back and saw Anthony Goldstein looking at him.
The Ravenclaw wizard’s eyes moved between Corner and Harry. “We heard Professor Lupin say that you did the Shield correctly. Michael knows that, too, but he seems to have bruised his brain when he fell.”
Corner looked at his roommate as if he wanted to curse him. Instead, he got up abruptly and stalked away from the table.
As soon as the dark-haired boy was beyond listening range, laughter erupted from the Ravenclaw students in the surrounding area, along with a number of comments.
“‘Bruised his brain?’ Good one, Goldstein.”
“Well put, Anthony. Corner’s a ponce.”
“Thanks for showing some Ravenclaw class.”
When the group calmed down, Anthony said, “Join us, Harry.” He smiled. “A space has suddenly come open.”
One of the witches — Harry knew it was Padma Patil because her identical twin, Parvati, was in Gryffindor — said, “We’ve noticed you’ve been going to different tables each day, so we have been trying to figure out why without asking one of the people you’ve spoken with.” She smiled at him. “Do you want to hear what we’ve come up with?”
Harry smiled back. “As long as I don’t have to tell you if you’re right or not.” He smiled to himself when he saw the light in the first years’ eyes. They see it like it’s a game and want to see who can win. No wonder they’re Ravenclaws.
Padma looked around. “Okay if I go first?” Her classmates nodded, and she looked at Harry. “I think it’s pretty simple. You’ve not met many people in the wizarding world, so this is an easy way to do that.” She looked closely at Harry to see if he would show how close she was.
He just smiled. “Next.”
“I’m Terry Boot,” said the brown-haired boy at the far end of the group. “I’m Muggle-born, so my thoughts are based on what I’ve been doing. You’re just trying to get a handle on what the wizarding world is like by talking to people who have different viewpoints.”
A curious expression came over Harry’s face. “What did you feel when Professor Dumbledore visited your home this summer?”
Terry looked surprised. “He didn’t. I got a letter saying I qualified for Hogwarts. That’s the first time I learned what I’d been doing was magic, not some weird physical abnormality.”
The group chuckled.
Harry’s eyes swept over the first years. “Did Professors Dumbledore or McGonagall visit anyone here?”
A chorus of “No’s” and shaken heads answered his question.
A strawberry blond witch sitting next to Terry said, “I’m Lisa Turpin.” Harry smiled at her. “Your questions and reactions indicate that either — or both — of them visited you.”
Harry couldn’t resist. “Next person.”
“Hi, Harry,” came a very soft voice. “I’m Su Li.” She nodded her head in his direction. “You’ve only spoken to witches so far, so you are beginning your research into who would make the best girlfriend.”
Harry’s snort led the reactions from the group. Then, he began to turn a violent red. Su grinned at him, thoroughly enjoying the reaction her remark had provoked.
Finally, the laughter and comments calmed down, and Harry choked out a response. “Uh, no.”
“May I?” asked Anthony. Receiving affirmative responses, he continued. “Since my family is currently ninth-generation pure-blood, I’ve done a bit of studying in that area.” Several other students nodded as if that were a given. “Daphne Greengrass and Susan Bones are pure-bloods, but Tracey Davis and Hannah Abbott are half-bloods. I’ve also noticed you’ve gone out of your way to talk with Neville Longbottom, who is a pure-blood. There’s a pattern there, but I haven’t quite got it.”
“I think I’ve got it.”
All eyes turned to a petite, pretty Asian girl that Harry did not remember from his classes with the Ravenclaws. He did notice that several of the girls looked at her coldly.
“I’m a second year, Harry, in case you’re trying to figure out why you don’t remember me. I’m Cho Chang, by the way.”
Her smile lit up the table and made her dark eyes dance.
She glanced at Anthony Goldstein. “It’s not a straight pure-blood situation, because Harry’s not spoken with the other Slytherin pure-bloods like Parkinson, Nott, or Malfoy.” She moved her eyes to Su Li. “You’re close with the girlfriend idea,” Cho grinned at Harry, “but that doesn’t explain him hanging out with Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom, unless . . . no, I won’t go there.” The eyebrows of several students stuck in the arched position.
“Terry, I think Harry would have talked with his Gryffindor classmates if he was solely interested in finding out about the wizarding world. He didn’t have to seek people in other Houses for that.” Cho turned quickly and locked onto Harry’s eyes. “How am I doing, Harry?”
After recovering from several waves of heat breaking over him, Harry stared back and tilted his hand back and forth, indicating she wasn’t doing too well.
Cho tossed her long, shiny black hair. “I think you’re trying to find out who you can trust both inside and outside your House, like you’re assembling a group of people you can count on and who will have points of view beyond what you would find solely in Gryffindor.”
Cho raised her head up and looked at Harry with a confident smile. He also noticed several of those gathered had their mouths hanging open, while others stared at her with thoughtful expressions.
“How did I do?” She moved several steps closer to Harry.
“Very good…”
At this, Cho smiled and glanced at the other Ravenclaws with a rather superior expression, which immediately disappeared at Harry’s next words.
“…and very bad.”
Her head whipped around with her waist-long hair following and almost hitting Harry in the face.
Her scowl was instantly replaced by a teasing smile. “Will you tell us which was which?”
Harry shook his head. “We agreed I wouldn’t have to say who was right and who was wrong.” He looked at the now pouting second year witch. “Sorry.”
“We’d better be leaving, Harry,” Ron said. “History of Magic. Right?”
“Nice talking with you guys,” Harry said, as he tried to ignore the smiling face and penetrating gaze of Cho Chang. “See you at Astronomy tonight.”
He headed out of the hall with Ron and Neville and was able to make it through forty-five minutes of History before Professor’s Binns’ monotone voice and boring subject finally glazed his eyes and dulled his brain into a foggy stupor.
After the class was over, the first years returned to their common room. Harry said to Ron, “I’m going to put my books away. I have to see Professor McGonagall.”
Ron’s face fell. “I forgot about that. Blimey, I was hoping we could fly the Nimbus.”
Harry thought as they walked up the stairs. “Maybe there’ll be enough time after I get back.”
“That would be great,” Ron enthused. Harry smiled to himself over Ron’s obsession.
Since Neville, Seamus, and Dean had remained in the common room, Harry pulled out the Marauders Map and looked carefully at the corridors he would be taking to the Room of Requirement. Satisfied that the route was clear, he folded the Map and placed it in his pocket.
Harry smiled when he saw the door already visible in the usually blank wall of that seventh floor corridor, and he quickly entered the room. He stopped in surprise when he saw it was configured similarly to what he had done after talking with Professor Lupin.
“Good afternoon, Mr Potter.” Professor McGonagall’s face reflected her stern educator persona.
“Hello, Professor,” he said, walking towards where she sat at a desk that looked exactly like the one in her classroom.
“Please have a seat.” With a wave of her wand, she conjured a straight-backed wooden chair.
Harry bit his lip to keep from smiling about the type of chair she had created. He sat down, and looked expectantly at his instructor. A brief look of . . . worry? concern? . . . passed over her face before she wiped the emotions away.
“This is to remain between you and me, Harry.” The boy tried to exercise the same control over his facial muscles as his professor just had, but he was certain his look of surprise showed briefly. “You need to know about the conversation I had with Professor Dumbledore last night, so you will be prepared for the potential reactions from both the headmaster and one of your professors . . .”
“Professor Snape?”
“Precisely.” Minerva McGonagall sighed. “I showed the pensieve memory to the headmaster, and he agreed to speak with Professor Snape about his behaviour and approach to educating students.” The witch leaned towards the boy. “I have never done this in my many decades of teaching, so please be discrete with this information.”
Harry’s eyes widened, but he immediately nodded his head. “I understand.”
The professor held his eyes for several moments before continuing. “I am concerned how both Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape will react. There is an uncomfortably wide range of possibilities, and I want you to be aware of that.” The professor straightened up. “Both men are highly intelligent, and both are good men in their own way, so please do not think what I am about to say is a criticism of either of them. In fact, the only reason I showed the memory to the headmaster was to ensure only positive steps will be taken, and it is my strong hope that we will see improvement as a result.”
Harry nodded again. She must be really worried about what she did and what could happen to say all of these things.
“Professor Lupin also shares my feelings about this.” The witch took another deep breath. “If events go positively, we will see a change in how Professor Snape teaches and how he treats his students.”
She stopped abruptly, her discomfort obvious to the boy. “I need to repeat myself, Mr Potter. I have never discussed such subjects with a student in my life.”
Her eyes bored into his. “You can trust me, Professor.” His insides started shaking, and he quickly blinked back the moisture that had accumulated in his eyes. “I . . . I know you’re doing this . . . to help me.”
He couldn’t hold back the tidal wave of emotions any longer. They crashed over him, making him feel both numb and achingly conscious. Harry launched himself around the desk and into the outstretched arms of the now kneeling professor, whose eyes were closed tightly, trying to rein in the flow of her emotions.
Harry wrapped his arms around the witch and held on tightly, as her arms encompassed him. The boy noticed her breathing was as ragged as his was, and he instinctively began rubbing his hand on her back, while feeling her do the same to him.
When he finally felt the surge of emotions had calmed, Harry took a small step back and looked at the witch, their hands remaining on the other’s shoulders. “It could be really bad.”
Harry could see the fight going on just below his professor’s surface. He saw a light come into her dark grey eyes and her strength return. “Yes, Mr Potter, it could be bad, but we will meet any challenge that may arise, because we are doing what is right.”
Harry marvelled at the steely strength in his professor’s voice, yet it was also soft and reassuring, as it filled him with hope and something else, an emotion he had felt only few times before.
This is how I felt when Ginny and her parents first hugged me, and Mr Weasley said he’d always be there for me.
“Th . . . thank you,” he whispered, and they held each other close again.
When they moved out of their hug, Minerva McGonagall slowly reached out her hand, a smile coming to her face when her student leaned into it, instead of flinching. “The situation you are in and what may happen as a result of my showing the memory is not fair to you, Harry.” She looked at him with her eyes overflowing with confidence and strong feelings for the boy. “But you will be able to handle whatever happens, and I will always be available to answer your questions or provide the help you may need.”
Harry tried his best to smile at the witch. “You think Professor Snape may be upset by me showing how he acted?”
“That’s one of the possible reactions, Harry. Of course, we hope that he will see this as a positive step and make the necessary adjustments.” Her eyebrows rose as she took another deep breath. “If he does react angrily and takes it out on you or your classmates, please let me know immediately. I hope he does not choose that path, but I wanted you to be aware of what has happened and what the potential outcomes may be.”
The witch’s expression turned thoughtful, and she smiled briefly. “Harry, I know that among young wizards your age, it is considered a sign of weakness to complain when someone is not treating you fairly.” She gazed warmly at him. “Harry, that is not the case here, so I hope you do not feel you have to tolerate mistreatment and remain silent. We can improve a situation only if we know what is happening. Please do not feel you are on your own and have to solve it yourself. Will you trust me to do the right thing and tell me if either of the two professors does anything inappropriate?”
“Yes.” The boy tried to hide his concern. She really is worried.
She smiled more widely this time. “Good. Shall we practice your wandless magic for just a bit?”
A grin split the boy’s face. “Yeah,” he said eagerly.
The professorial persona returned in a blink of an eye. “Unless your opponent is capable of casting spells silently, a simple Silencio will stop most wizards and witches. If they cannot say the word, then the spell cannot be completed. After that, you can quickly Disarm the person, do a Full Body Bind, or tie them up by casting an Incarcerous spell. Let’s practice.”
For the next fifteen minutes, professor and student progressed from single casting, incorporating the various spells the witch had mentioned to dual casting, where Harry would use both hands almost simultaneously. Finally, the professor was satisfied that her student could cast each spell quickly and accurately.
“Shall we put what you’ve just practiced into a more realistic situation?” The professor wore a challenging smile.
Harry grinned at her. “That would be fun.”
“Stand facing that wall,” she pointed opposite to where she faced, “and cast a Silencio so you can’t hear my movements. Count slowly to twenty, release the spell, and be prepared, Mr Potter.”
They half-bowed to each other. Harry moved to the wall and slowly counted until he reached twenty.
Standing still, he thought, Finite, and sound returned. She’ll think I’m going to turn to my left, so I’ll move to my right. There’s nothing here to hide behind, so if I see her I’ll have to cast immediately. Hmm . . . I wonder.
Harry exploded from his position, pivoting to his right. His premise proved true as he saw the professor against the wall that was now on his left as he faced her.
Harry swept his right arm, as soon as he began to pivot, thinking Silencio.
McGonagall’s voice went silent after “Stu . . .”
Harry completed pivoting, immediately aimed his left hand at the professor, and silently cast Expelliarmus.
While her wand flew towards him, Harry non-verbally issued Protego, Petrificus Totalus, Incarcerous, alternating the spells between his two hands.
The entire sequence took less than five seconds.
Professor McGonagall stood unmoving next to the wall, bound in thick ropes, her eyes staring at her student.
Harry quickly cast four Finite spells to eliminate his Shield spell, as well as those he had sent at Professor McGonagall. Seconds later, the ropes disappeared and she regained her mobility and power of speech. After rubbing her wrists, the witch sternly regarded the young wizard who was rapidly approaching, a concerned and slightly embarrassed expression on his face. Harry returned the professor’s wand to her.
“Mr Potter, that was brilliant. Please tell me exactly what you did and the thoughts behind them.” Her comment ended with them smiling at each other. “First, let’s sit down and order tea.”
Harry, without thinking, said, “Room, may we please have tea and some Scottish shortbread biscuits?”
Minerva McGonagall couldn’t hold back her laughter, as she placed an arm around the small boy’s shoulder as if that were an oft-used gesture for her. “Mr Potter, you’re quite observant, aren’t you?”
He smiled sheepishly. “I remembered you had them when you first came to my relatives’ house. Was that okay?”
She smiled warmly, as they separated at the desk and went to their respective chairs.
With a ‘crack,’ Mimsy appeared by the desk, holding a silver platter containing a tea service and a large plate of the requested biscuits.
“Hi, Mimsy,” Harry said. “Have you met Professor McGonagall before?”
Both females stared at the boy.
The house-elf squeaked, “You’s is remembering me, Harry Potter?”
Harry immediately looked confused. “Of course I do.” He looked at the platter. “Can I help you with that?”
Mimsy shook her head, causing her bat-like ears to wave. “No’s! That is being my job, Harry Potter.” The elf regarded him suspiciously.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
Mimsy sat the platter down and placed the tea set and biscuit plate in the middle of the desk. “Is that being all, Professor and Harry Potter?”
Minerva smiled. “Yes, that is all. Thank you, Mimsy.”
The elf disappeared with another loud ‘crack.’
The professor studied her student. “Apparently you met Mimsy when you discovered this room.”
As he answered, she started preparing tea for two. “That’s right. When I entered the room, I wondered how it worked, and a parchment appeared in front of me that was signed by the four Founders of Hogwarts. It told how the room worked, and that the house-elves who brought the food were the only ones that could get through the wards. I asked Mimsy if she could teach me how they did that, but she said she’d have to ask if she could tell me. She said elf magic is different than wizard magic.”
The professor smiled to herself, warmed by the boy’s long, detailed response. “Maybe that’s one of the reasons Mimsy seemed so uncomfortable.”
Harry’s eyes grew bigger. “I hadn’t thought of that. You’re probably right.”
McGonagall handed a cup of tea to the boy. “Now, Mr Potter, describe what you did to me.”
He smiled sheepishly. “I figured you would be on that side of the room, since it’s more natural for me to turn to my left. I started casting the Silencing Charm as soon as I started moving, because I didn’t know where you were. If I waited until I saw you, you’d have more time to cast your spell.” Harry stopped when he saw the sharp expression on his professor’s face.
“Did you try to do the Silencing Charm over a wide area?” she asked, her eyes narrowed in concentration.
“Yeah, I thought you’d be in that general area, so I tried to cover the whole thing.” Harry shrugged.
McGonagall stood up. “Let’s see if we can still detect the spells.” She started walking towards that part of the room, with Harry quickly following her. “Did you repeat the charm as you swept your arm through the area you wanted to cover?”
“Uh huh, that’s what I did.” He looked puzzled. “Was that a mistake?”
The witch stopped and turned so she faced her student. “No, Harry, it is not a mistake at all. You have not been taught that technique, so I am curious how you did it, that’s all.”
He nodded, and they walked over to the area in question. McGonagall moved her wand in an arc and mumbled several words that Harry could not make out.
She soon smiled at the boy. “I was here.” She pointed to the spot. “Your Silencing Charm begins here,” she moved up about three metres, “and ends here.” She retraced her steps and continued for another two metres.
McGonagall again stopped. “Harry, this is what we call blanketing an area with spells. The technique is used in situations exactly as you described, that is, where you generally, but not precisely, know where the other person is.” She smiled at her protg. “I am very impressed that you came up with this solution without knowing about it previously. Well done!”
“Th . . . thank you, Professor.” He smiled almost shyly at her.
“You are quite welcome. What did you do next?”
Harry thought for a second, and then repeated his actions as if he were viewing them again. “Expelliarmus with my left hand, Protego, Petrificus Totalus, Incarcerous, right, left, and right handed.” He looked up and smiled slightly. “Then, Finite to cancel all of them.”
“Ten points to Gryffindor, Mr Potter, for your performance and your explanation.” Minerva McGonagall smiled and again reached out her hand slowly, this time ruffling Harry’s already messy hair, and rejoicing when he welcomed her touch. “I am very proud of you.”
Her heart wanted to fly, when he beamed back at her.
When they returned to the desk, the professor cast Warming Charms on the cups of tea. Reaching for a shortbread biscuit, she asked, “Outside of Potions, how has the week been so far?”
Harry paused, trying to figure how to answer such an open question. His forehead furrowed when he answered. “Some things are much better than I thought they would be. Professors Flitwick, Lupin, and Sprout — and you — are great. History is, uh, disappointing.” He looked at the professor, as if he shouldn’t have said that, but she just nodded her head to continue. “Having Professor Lupin here was a surprise. I saw him at the Weasleys’, but he didn’t say anything. I hope I can learn stuff about my parents from him, but he seems . . . I don’t know . . . like he doesn’t want to talk about them.” The boy looked up.
“That was a tough time for him, too, Harry,” the professor said quietly. “He lost people he was very close to.” She stopped for a moment, then resumed talking. “You will find Remus Lupin is reserved by nature, but he is a very good wizard and worth any effort you may give to get to know him better.”
Harry nodded his understanding. He went to all that trouble to get the memories. Professor McGonagall wouldn’t tell me to keep trying if he wasn’t worth it.
“I’ll keep trying, then,” he promised. Harry almost winced at what he wanted to say about the DADA professor. “Um, I get kind of a funny feeling from him.”
McGonagall’s head jerked slightly, but she answered calmly, “It may take some time, but Professor Lupin may share some of his history with you. Tell me about the students you are meeting. You seem to have made some acquaintances already with students from other Houses.”
I wonder if I should bring up the House idea. No, not yet. It’s too early.
“Some people have wondered about that. I see my roommates and the Gryffindor witches every day, so it’s not as noticeable when I talk with them as when I talk to someone from another House. I like all the guys, but I’m closest to Ron and Neville. The three girls are harder to figure out.”
The professor laughed. “That may take you a few more years to figure out.”
Harry laughed. “Ginny wrote that I’d never figure out the mind of a witch, so I guess I won’t even try.” He took a deep breath and ploughed on. “The Sorting Hat said I could qualify for any of the four Houses.” McGonagall gasped. “So, I thought I should get to know some other people.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Daphne and Tracey came to Ron and my compartment on the train, so I just started with them. Plus, the Greengrass family is related to the Potters from hundreds of years ago. They both told me they were considered for Gryffindor and Ravenclaw before the Hat put them in Slytherin. Neville’s family is related to mine, and so is the Bones family.”
“That’s how you’ve chosen who to talk with?”
“I figured it would give me something to talk about. With the Ravenclaws, I just wanted to apologize to Michael Corner, because I knocked him over in Defence. He, ah, didn’t seem too friendly, but the others were. They all had theories on why I was talking to people in other Houses. No one guessed it was based on our families being related. It’s so long ago, maybe most don’t know. Hannah was hanging out with Susan, so I just started talking with her, too.”
Should I ask?
“Um, I was in the library last night and Hannah sat down next to me.”
He looked at the witch, not sure what to say next. She remained quiet, so Harry continued, even though he felt increasingly uncomfortable.
“Hannah kept putting her hand on me, and smiling, and talking even though we were supposedly studying, and she seemed sad when I finished and wanted to go back to the dorm, so I stayed, then when we left she kept bumping into me, but that wasn’t as bad as when we reached the staircases and she kissed me on the cheek.”
Harry wiped the sweat from his forehead and looked at his professor, whose eyes were sparkling, even though her mouth was in a very tight, thin line.
“It really confused me.”
“I am not surprised such behaviour would confuse you,” the professor replied. “Do you like Miss Abbott?”
Harry looked at the professor like she had just asked the question in some foreign language.
He sat, staring at the desk top, his forehead furrowed. “Sure. She seems nice.” Harry looked at the professor, silently wondering if that’s what she meant.
“I mean, do you like her more than the other witches you know,” Minerva McGonagall asked gently.
Harry’s eyes quickly widened. “No!” His body jerked reflexively as he realized how explosively he had responded. “I mean she’s okay, but she’s just a friend like Susan and Daphne and Tracey.”
“Have you considered that Miss Abbott might not want to be included with all the other witches you think of as friends?” The professor’s question was again conveyed in a soft, neutral tone.
The boy sat in silence, contemplating the question.
“Oh.”
As realization finally dawned on Harry Potter, his expression moved from surprise to confusion to something very uncomfortable. “I don’t feel that way about any girl. It was . . . I don’t know . . .” He exhaled sharply. “I felt uncomfortable when she touched me, you know, squeezed my hand or shoulder, or when she was walking so close to me. And I really don’t understand why she kissed my cheek.” He looked lost. “I don’t know what to do.”
Minerva McGonagall looked at the slight boy in front of her. This is a conversation for a son with his mum and dad, not for his Head of House, who has known him for barely a month. Albus, what have we done to this boy? How do I help him when I’ve never had children of my own? She could feel something in her reaching out to the boy. Merlin, I hope this will help and not hurt him.
“Harry, at this age, some girls start to show that they like certain boys. Generally speaking, girls mature faster than boys in this area. Miss Abbott apparently likes you and wanted to show that feeling. She felt comfortable acting that way, and she probably hopes you feel the same way about her.” The professor looked at the young wizard in front of her. “Is this making any sense to you, Harry?”
The boy’s face scrunched up in thought. “Yes . . . no . . . I don’t know.” He sighed heavily. “It’s confusing. She’s nice but so are most of the other people I’ve met. She’s just one of them.” He looked up. “But she doesn’t want to be just one of them. Right?” McGonagall nodded. “She wants to be . . .” several moments passed, “the only one?”
“From what you’ve described, Harry, yes, it does sound she wants to be your best friend.”
Harry looked shocked. “She can’t. Ginny’s already my best friend.”
Minerva’s thoughts immediately went back to the times she had seen the two children interact, the concern they had for each other, Ginny’s hurt at being excluded from their trip to Diagon Alley, their comfort with each other from joking to the natural physical manifestations such as the touching and hand holding she’d seen and which had shocked Harry when Hannah had done the same thing.
The poor boy doesn’t have a clue . . . and I doubt if Ginny does at this time, either. Poor Hannah, she — and probably any other witch — doesn’t stand a chance. How do I tell an eleven-year old boy to let a witch down easy?
“Harry, let’s say you tried out for the House Quidditch team.” He immediately brightened. “You thought you had played well enough to make the team. If the captain made the decision not to keep you, would you prefer that he or she tell you immediately or hold off until it became obvious that you weren’t being considered any longer?”
Harry closed his eyes. I would feel horrible if they just strung me along. It would hurt to learn I didn’t make the team, but I’d want to hear immediately not until it was obvious to everyone. I don’t want Hannah to feel horrible.
He opened his eyes again and looked at the professor. “I need to tell her immediately. She needs to know I think she’s nice but like other people I know. It would hurt her more the longer I waited.”
Professor McGonagall smiled warmly at her student. “That would be the best decision, Harry. It would save Miss Abbott from developing false hopes, and while it would disappoint her now, it would be many times worse if you waited to tell her how you felt. Doing so will probably be difficult for you, but it is the kindest thing you could do for Miss Abbott.”
The boy slowly nodded his head. “This stuff is pretty complicated, isn’t it?”
Minerva McGonagall smiled widely. “Yes, it is, Mr Potter. Yes, it is.”
She paused and looked at the son of Lily and James Potter. How could he have turned out this well, given the way he was raised and by whom? Somehow, what James and Lily gave him is beginning to re-emerge. I hope they are feeling as proud as I am at this moment.
The witch turned away from the boy and blinked rapidly to blot up the moisture that had formed. Once having recovered, she asked, “Any more questions, Mr Potter?”
He grinned. “Nah. I don’t think I could handle any more like that one.”
She smiled. “Then, I will see you in class on Friday. Until then, Mr Potter.”
“Thanks for . . . everything, Professor.”
The second Harry entered the common room, Ron was all over him. “There’s still an hour before dinner, Harry. Can we try out your Nimbus?”
“Sure.”
The two boys raced up the stairs. Harry grabbed the shrunken broom and put it inside his robes, not wanting to make a big deal as they returned through the common room. The boys half-ran, half-walked all the way to the Quidditch pitch. As soon as they saw it was not being used, Ron heaved a huge sigh of relief.
Harry unshrunk the broom, kicked off with a ‘whoop,’ and shot into the sky in an almost vertical ascent. After about ten minutes, he reluctantly returned to earth to give Ron a try.
“You’ve got to be careful,” Harry cautioned. “The Nimbus is so much more responsive than the Comets at home. The acceleration means you have to decide on your manoeuvres much quicker, it responds more easily so it’s easy to turn too sharply or too soon, and the brakes almost tossed me off the first time.” Harry’s eyes lit up. “It’s incredible.”
He handed the broom to Ron, who held it almost reverently. “I’ll be extra careful, don’t worry.”
He launched slowly and moved about the pitch as if in slow motion. But after a few minutes, he got more comfortable and his flying became more instinctive.
Ron and Harry spent the next hour trading back and forth, becoming more and more familiar with the capabilities and handling of the Nimbus. Way too soon, their time was over, and Harry ended the session with Wronski Feint that had Ron out of his seat and cheering.
“No one is going to catch you on that broom, Harry. Can I carry it back for you?”
“Sure. It’s not too heavy for you, is it?”
Ron scowled, then started laughing when he saw Harry’s teasing expression.
The two boys chatted back and forth about the broom on the way to the castle and into the Entrance Hall, when an increasing familiar and irritating voice interrupted them.
“What a show-off, Potter,” Malfoy said. “Don’t you know first years can’t have their own brooms at school? Of course, being Muggle-raised, you probably don’t know much about proper wizarding behaviour. I suppose you’re paying Weasley to carry the broom. He’s so poor I’m sure he’d do anything for a few Knuts.”
The two boys had been walking through the hall, ignoring Malfoy’s remarks. But with the comment about being poor, Ron had growled and started moving towards Malfoy. He stopped seconds later, when a sixth year Slytherin prefect walked around the corner, shaking his head in disgust.
“I can’t believe I have to do this. Malfoy, you blithering idiot, can’t you keep your mouth shut? I should take House points from you, but I’m afraid that would put us into the negative. Instead report to Filch on Monday night for three night’s detention.”
Malfoy’s cheeks heated up and he whinged, “I already have detention next week with Filch.”
The Slytherin prefect shook his head. “I should have known. See Filch a week from Monday, then. And for Merlin’s sake, learn to keep your mouth shut. With a brain like yours, your mouth should be wired shut. Now, get going before I have take points from my own House.”
Malfoy glared at Ron and Harry, who were barely suppressing their laughter at Malfoy’s consistently bad timing and the record-breaking number of points he had already lost for Slytherin.
After returning the Nimbus to the special compartment in his trunk, Harry and Ron went down to the Great Hall for dinner. Already, the various years had claimed sections of the Gryffindor bench, and the two wizards headed towards the first year section. All the others were already seated, with Neville leaving plenty of room for Harry and Ron to sit by him. Harry noticed Hermione sat slightly apart from Lavender and Parvati and was reading a very large book, whose size looked somewhat familiar.
When they sat down and filled their plates with pork chops, scalloped potatoes, applesauce, and green beans, Harry looked in Hermione’s direction. “Are you reading Hogwarts: A History?”
Hermione looked up, a questioning glint in her eyes, but the witch smiled when she saw Harry’s innocent expression. “Yes, I am. It’s ever so interesting. You can learn so much about the school and its history. I find it fascinating.”
Ron, between mouthfuls of food, began to mutter in a falsetto voice, “It’s so interesting . . . it’s so fascinating.”
Harry ignored his roommate. “Ginny — Ron’s sister — received a copy for her birthday last month. It looked about the same size as what you were reading. I’ve read a bit of it, but it looks like you’re further along. Going to the library later?”
Hermione looked at Harry curiously, but finally nodded her head.
“Good. Maybe I’ll see you there.”
Conversation returned to normal, and Hermione buried herself in the huge book, not even trying to participate.
On the way back to the common room, Ron demanded, “Why did you talk with her?”
Harry looked at his roommate. “Talk with who?”
Ron shook his head. “With Hermione. She’s a bloody bore. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without a book in her hands.”
Harry shrugged. “She’s okay. She knows a lot of different things.”
Ron laughed. “And everything she says is boring.”
Harry chuckled. “I’m going upstairs to get my books. Then, I’m off to the library. The training session with Professor McGonagall went longer than I thought it would, so I haven’t even started my homework yet.” Ron looked at his roommate. “No, you don’t have to go with me.” He lowered his voice. “I’ll check the map before I go.”
Ron’s expression turned serious. “You sure? I’ll go if you want.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it.”
Harry retrieved his books and waved goodbye to Ron, as he passed through the common room. He checked the Marauders Map once he was through the Portrait hole. Seeing the route to the library was relatively clear, Harry pocketed the Map and set off for the library. Hermione was in her usual spot, far in the rear of the library and all the way to the left side by the stacks of books. He watched the witch for a few moments.
I should go sit with her. But she seems like she’s already busy studying. I might interrupt her. I’ll just go to my usual place.
Harry walked back about half the length of the library and moved to a table on the far right side. Professor McGonagall wanted twelve inches on the Four Principles of Inanimate Transformation. He didn’t see the young witch watching him with disappointment when he sat down.
Piece of cake, thought Harry, and he pulled out his book, parchment, ink, and his quill. He was well into the essay, when he turned around to find out who was approaching him.
“Hi, Hermione.”
“Hi, Harry,” she said hesitantly. “Do you mind if I join you?”
“No, that would be great. I was going to sit with you, but you looked so busy I didn’t want to interrupt you.”
“Really, I, ah, never mind.”
The girl sat in the chair next to Harry, on his left side. Harry watched as she fished through the large book bag she always seemed to have with her. With a smile, she pulled out four books and turned to Harry.
“After you mentioned what Professor Dumbledore had done, I did a bit of research into Legilimency and Occlumency. Neither subject is taught at Hogwarts, but I found both of them to be fascinating. These four books appeared to be the most comprehensive and understandable, so you should be able to get a pretty good idea what the fields are like . . . ah . . . that is . . . if you want to read them.”
The witch looked at him hopefully, but her cheeks rapidly turned a soft red.
“That’s great, Hermione. I’ll definitely read them. Thanks.”
“Well, that’s okay,” she said. “I do enjoy doing that kind of research, and, well, there’s not much else to do.” The last few words trailed off and the girl’s eyes moved to the table top.
“It’s really different here, isn’t it?” the boy asked quietly.
Hermione’s eyes grew wider. “It’s not like I thought it would be,” she replied even more softly.
“What did you think it would be like?” Their voices had dropped so low, their heads automatically moved closer together so they could hear clearly.
“Oh . . .” The internal debate became obvious on the girl’s face. “I thought . . .” She exhaled strongly. “I hoped it would be more academically oriented, where the students researched magic, and worked together with their professors to learn new spells, that it would be more collegial, and everyone would be like that . . .” The witch’s shoulder slumped. “It’s just like my Muggle school, with most of the students not caring, and talking about sports, or like my roommates and talking about boys and clothes and make-up. We’re eleven! What do boys and clothes and make-up have to do with anything?”
Hermione stopped abruptly when she realized what she was ranting about and to whom.
“You’re right,” Harry whispered back.
Hermione immediately lost her frozen in the headlight expression. “What do you mean, I’m right?”
“Okay,” Harry replied. “The students range from troll-like with Crabbe and Goyle,” Hermione laughed softly, “to super-intelligent, like you and some of the Ravenclaws, so the classes have to be aimed at the middle of a pretty wide range.”
The witch nodded her head.
“The professors also range from Binns, who is dead and teaches like it,” Hermione actually snorted mildly, “to McGonagall, who is brilliant, and Flitwick and Lupin, who both seem to be excellent. Snape shouldn’t be teaching.”
Hermione gasped. “I couldn’t believe what he did. How did you know those answers? Those subjects won’t be covered until the end of the year.”
“I finished the book during the month I stayed with the Weasleys.”
Hermione stared at the boy. “I don’t understand. You stayed with Ron’s family? Why?”
Harry stared at the girl. What should I tell her? I don’t know her that well, but if I tell it’s none of her business, her feelings will be hurt.
“Do you know about my early life?”
Hermione nodded her head energetically. “I’ve read about you in . . .” and she was off to the races. “None of the books I’ve read — and I’ve done a lot of research — say anything what happened to you after, well, after you vanquished Voldemort.”
Harry stared into the girl’s eyes. “Only a few people know this, so you have to swear you won’t tell anyone. Okay?”
“It’s that important?”
“Yes. Dumbledore wouldn’t tell anyone where I was, even Professor Lupin, who was a close friend of my parents.”
“I promise.”
She extended her right hand. Harry’s initial reaction was to slide away, but he quickly understood she just wanted to shake hands to confirm her promise. Her hand felt the same size as his, but soft and warm. They shook.
“Okay. Until a month ago, I lived with my Muggle aunt and uncle. My aunt is, err, was my mum’s sister. She and her husband hate magic. When Dumbledore came to their house on my birthday . . .”
“July 31st,” the girl said authoritatively.
Harry looked at her. “Do you remember everything you read?”
Hermione smiled, her face showing a combination of ego and embarrassment. “Pretty much everything.”
Harry grinned back. “Thought so. Anyhow, after seeing what it was like at my aunt and uncle’s house, Dumbledore decided to move me to the Weasleys. That was on my birthday. Then here on September first. Lots of changes.”
“You didn’t grow up in a wizarding family?” Hermione asked with an incredulous edge in her voice.
“Hermione, I didn’t know I was a wizard until my birthday. My aunt and uncle said my mum and dad died in a car accident.”
Hermione gasped. “They lied to you?” Harry nodded. “So, you didn’t know about the wizarding world at all.”
“Nothing. I learned about magic, the wizarding world, Gringotts, Hogwarts, witches and wizards, everything in the last month.”
“How do you know all those spells and the answers in Potions and everything else? I thought you were trained from the time you were a toddler.”
Harry shrugged. “I’ve learned my parents were very smart. The Hat said I could have fit into Ravenclaw.”
“Me, too,” Hermione immediately said.
Harry smiled. “I knew that.”
“Prat.” Hermione grinned back.
“I’m not sure, Hermione, but I know my parents were very creative and powerful with their magic. I guess I got all of theirs. Plus, I was able to do magic at the Weasleys. That helped.” I can’t tell her about the lessons with McGonagall.
“How did you learn to do wandless magic?” Hermione whispered.
“I’m not supposed to talk about that.” Harry looked around. “But I made a mistake at the first Charms class. Dumbledore was really upset.” Hermione gravely nodded her head. “At the Weasleys, I practiced the spells wandlessly. I didn’t know any better. It just comes naturally to me. Please don’t talk about this with anyone. Okay?”
“You can trust me, Harry.”
“Thanks. Your turn, now that you know I’m as much a Muggle as you are.”
Harry listened to the young witch, who had known she was smarter than any other child her age, as soon as she had entered school and found out she could read as well as kids three or four grades higher than she was. What she hadn’t known until this most recent summer was that the unusual things that would occasionally happen around her were a result of her being a witch. Her Muggle parents had no idea, of course, so Harry learned that the combination of her native intelligence and magical abilities combined to set the girl apart at a very early age from the children who should have been her friends.
By the time Hermione finished her story, the moisture that had formed in her eyes began to slowly overflow and spill down her cheeks. Harry reached out his hand, intending to put it on her shoulder. But Hermione took his hand in hers and laid her cheek against it.
And that is what the previously happy and widely smiling Hannah Abbott saw when she walked into the library.
She stopped, seemingly paralyzed by the scene playing out in front of her, and then, unnoticed by anyone, she turned and ran.
After her tears and emotional display, Hermione stared at the table top. “We should study,” she said hoarsely, still not raising her eyes.
The young boy briefly looked at the girl, whose face was now flushed, wondering what had happened to make her change so suddenly. “Yeah, I guess so.” He mentally shrugged his shoulders and began work on the Transfiguration essay.
About half an hour later, Harry had finished the assignment and had checked it twice. Looking out of the corner of his eyes, he saw that Hermione had more than enough written to have finished the essay, but she appeared to still be fussing over it.
Merlin, it’s the same thing again. I don’t know if I should stay or leave or start talking, just like with Hannah last night. She seemed to like that I stayed, so I guess I should do the same thing with Hermione. Why did she change so fast? One minute she was talking non-stop, then nothing. She hasn’t said a word since she cried.
The boy chanced another look out of the corner of his eyes. Her face is all blotchy and red. Is she upset about something? Did I do something?
The boy wracked his brain to see if he could find anything that could have upset the girl. I don’t think I did anything. I wonder if I should ask. No, that could make it worse. If she wants to tell me, she will.
The boy shrugged his shoulders, put the homework into his book bag, and pulled one of the Legilimency books towards him. He had been reading for about fifteen minutes when activity next to him broke his concentration. He looked over and saw that Hermione had cleaned up her workplace and was getting up to leave.
“Ready to go?” he asked.
He nearly flinched at the sharp look he received from the witch. “Yes,” she said coldly. “You don’t have to leave if you still want to read.” She began to walk away.
“No, I’ll go back with you.”
“Whatever,” she muttered and she turned away.
Harry put the Legilimency book away and scrambled to catch up with the departing girl.
On the way back from the library, Harry found it nearly impossible to talk with Hermione. The conversation had flowed easily while they were surrounded by books and scrolls of parchment, but as soon as she had cried, it had become increasingly forced, until . . .
“You know, you don’t have to make me one of your projects.” Harry looked at Hermione and was met with a fierce glare. “I don’t need your pity. I can function here without your stamp of approval or being pulled into conversations that would bore me to death with people who think a mirror has depth. I don’t want to be one of your girls.” The last sentence was spat, as if the witch were cursing the bewildered boy.
Hermione’s comments stunned Harry, leaving him without a reply or even the ability to walk the few remaining steps to the Portrait hole. Hermione gave the password and climbed through, not even bothering to look back to see if he were following.
“Are you coming in, dear?”
Harry’s head snapped up. He was shocked to see the Fat Lady looking at him sympathetically. “Try not to let her comments bother you. She was being quite rude. Here, go on in. You shouldn’t stand out here by yourself.”
The Portrait swung open, and a numb Harry Potter climbed through and continued straight to his dorm room and his four-poster. Once situated, he cast a Silencing Charm and pulled Ginny’s letter and the one from Gringotts from his pocket. He reread the letter from Griphook first.
Good. Everything’s taken care of. I don’t have to do anything else, except have them touch the key to each property.
He placed that letter on his night stand and carefully opened up Ginny’s letter, a smile already forming on his face. By the time he had finished reading Ginny’s upbeat letter, the smile stretched across his face.
Why can’t all witches be like Ginny? Everything would be so much easier. I wonder if she could help me figure out what’s going on with Hermione. I’m glad Professor McGonagall helped me with Hannah. Hannah? I wonder why she didn’t show up at the library.
Wow! This night would have been even worse if I had to talk with Hannah like the professor wants me to, plus Hermione. It’s probably better she didn’t show up. I can’t imagine writing to Ginny about both of them.
Harry pulled his book bag over and took out a roll of parchment and his self-inking quill.
Dear Ginny,
Thanks for another great letter! You won’t believe what’s going on around here . . .
Harry proceeded to write about his conversation and training with Professor McGonagall, receiving the Nimbus 2000.
You won’t believe how fast and responsive it is!
He told her about having Astronomy at midnight this evening, and he finally worked up enough nerve to describe his conversation with Hermione and her abrupt change of attitude.
I don’t think I did anything, but what do you think? You said I’d never figure out what’s going on in a witch’s mind, and boy is that true! I just can’t figure out why she changed so much.
Harry also told her that Gringotts had modified the protective wards on the houses and that Ron and he would Floo to The Burrow early Saturday morning. He finished with
I’m really looking forward to seeing you and your parents on Saturday. It seems a lot longer than a week. Keep the letters coming ‘til then!
Your best friend,
Harry
Albus Dumbledore sighed heavily at the prospect of doing something he had put off for many years. Minerva McGonagall’s ultimatum had eliminated any chance of further postponing the inevitable.
‘We’ll soon find out if Severus is capable of making the necessary changes. Perhaps I have added to the problem by not addressing it in a more timely fashion. Minerva certainly thinks so,’ the headmaster thought. He absently massaged his temples, knowing the answers would soon become apparent, and more than likely, would require more action on his part.
“Frankie?” The headmaster’s house-elf appeared seconds later. “Please ask Professor Snape to see me immediately in my office.”
“Yes, Headmaster.”
The house-elf disappeared with a ‘crack,’ and seconds later appeared in the personal quarters of Severus Snape.
The loud ‘crack’ caused the Potions Master to glance up quickly and reach for his wand. When he saw who it was, a look of annoyance quickly replaced the one of surprise. Snape stared at the elf, while marking his place in Moste Potent Potions and placing the book on the table next to his chair.
“Headmaster Dumbledore is wanting to be seeing you immediately,” the elf said in a high-pitched voice.
“When will you infernal creatures learn how to speak properly?” When no answer was forthcoming, Snape said, “Let the headmaster know that I will be there momentarily.”
The house-elf transported out of the professor’s quarters half a second later.
Minutes later, the wizard approached the headmaster’s office. “Come in, Severus. Have a seat. How are you this fine evening?” He extended an ornate cut glass candy dish. “Lemon drop?”
Severus Snape closed his eyes briefly to keep from rolling them at his headmaster’s transparency. He had learned many years ago that the longer and more effusive the old man’s greeting the more troublesome the topic of discussion would be. He also knew that garrulousness was an indication of the headmaster’s lack of comfort with what he had to do. ‘McGonagall probably has pushed him,’ the Potions Professor thought.
“No thank you, Headmaster,” he said smoothly. “You wished to see me?” The Slytherin Head of House crossed his legs at the knee and regarded the elderly wizard with a polite but neutral expression.
The headmaster exhaled heavily. “These are old topics, Severus, but ones we need to address again and achieve the desired results.” Snape leaned forward slightly. “I am referring specifically to your penchant for bullying instead of teaching.” Snape snorted, but Dumbledore continued. “Your continued abuse of the House point system is the second issue we need to revisit, and lastly, your treatment of certain students is being called into question.”
“Potter,” Snape spat.
Dumbledore shook his head, his eyes moving from placid to questioning. “Yes, Harry Potter and also Neville Longbottom . . .”
“That walking disaster, Headmaster? I question whether he has sufficient magical abilities to even muddle through his education here.”
“Severus, we both know the young wizard’s family history. In his way, Neville Longbottom has been as limited by his family circumstances as Harry Potter has.” Snape shifted angrily in his chair. “I have tested Neville’s magical powers myself earlier this summer. You undoubtedly will be surprised to learn that he ranks in the top third of his class. It is his emotional and psychological make-up that is limiting him at this point. This issue was discussed at our meeting prior to the students arriving. You also will recall, Severus, that I strongly recommended that his professors approach him in a calm, supportive manner.”
A look of confusion briefly crossed Snape’s face, but he quickly covered it with a neutral expression. “I’ve had little or no interaction with the student, Headmaster. How can there be a problem?”
“We will see, Severus, in a few moments.” A pinprick of concern entered the Potion Master’s mind, but he quickly dismissed it.
“You seemed to already know that there has been a problem regarding Harry Potter . . .”
“He is a spoiled brat, self-centred, and egotistical,” the professor said indignantly. “He tried to take over my class on the very first day.”
“Severus, we both know those are outright fabrications. His upbringing was as opposite of being spoiled as is possible. Harry suffers from lack of self-esteem and confidence due to this upbringing, though his time with the Weasleys has brought remarkable improvements. The boy rarely, if ever, thinks of himself, because he is so totally focused on other people. And he wishes to please people so much he essentially has no ego.”
The headmaster’s voice took on a new level of strength. “All of this information was conveyed to you and the other staff members at that meeting, Severus. Harry Potter is not James come back to haunt you. I realize you feel you owe his father a life debt. I am sure James would wave off any such thoughts.
“Severus, I listed the remarkable personality differences between Harry and his father at that meeting. I did so largely for your benefit. Unfortunately, you are seeking some form of retribution through James’ son, and I cannot have that happen.”
“Headmaster, I truly am disturbed by your comments,” Snape said softly. “Upon what do you base them?”
The headmaster stood up without another word and walked over to the cabinet that held his pensieve. Since his back was turned to the Potions Master, he did not see the wizard’s eyes widen in apprehension.
Placing the pensieve on his desk, Albus Dumbledore requested, “Please enter the memory, Severus. I will immediately follow you. I am sure you will recognize it.”
Snape slowly rose from the chair and leaned over the large vessel. Seconds later he fell into his own classroom. The headmaster joined him seconds later and spent the time primarily watching for subtle reactions from his Potions Professor, because Albus Dumbledore knew the wizard was almost as good as he at hiding his emotions.
When they finally emerged from the memory, Snape’s complexion had faded from sallow to ghost-like and his eyes had lost any signs of life.
“Severus, do you have any comments or questions?” Albus asked gently.
“No, Headmaster, I do not.” The wizard’s response verged on the robotic.
“I am sure you can now see that I have no alternative but to place you on a thirty-day probationary period.”
A sharp intake of air caused Dumbledore to look at the professor in concern. “Severus, can I get anything for you? Are you alright?” Albus peered closely into the man’s coal black eyes, trying to discern what he was thinking.
Snape reacted slowly to the questions. “Uh, no, no, I’m alright. You’re placing me on probation?” The question was asked softly and tinged with incredulity.
“I am sorry it has come to this Severus, but these are old issues for the most part, and they are made all the more telling by your inexcusable treatment of two students, who deserve much, much better from Hogwarts professors. In anticipation of this decision, I prepared a document listing the areas that need improvement and the timeframe in which this needs to be accomplished. It goes without saying, but I will nevertheless, all other professional standards must be maintained during this period, and at all times, for that matter.”
Dumbledore presented the document to Severus Snape, along with a quill and ink bottle. Snape signed the document without reading it and returned it to his headmaster. Dumbledore waved his wand over the form and made a copy. “Please study this closely, Severus, for your continued employment at Hogwarts depends on you making the necessary changes. I can only go so far in defending your actions.”
Snape looked up briefly, then returned his eyes to the probationary document. “Did the Potter boy come to you with his complaints?”
“I have debated whether to explain the circumstances under which your actions came to my attention. Perhaps it would be beneficial for you to learn how it happened.”
Dumbledore proceeded to explain how Remus Lupin had talked with Harry and finally discovered what had happened, how he had taken the pensieve memory to Minerva McGonagall, who had brought it to him.
“So you see, Severus, Harry Potter did not complain about you. Your own colleagues did. I strongly feel they were justified in their actions, and I hope you will agree with them and me. I need to repeat this, Severus, do not resent Harry Potter because he looks like his father. To me, his personality, once you get past his defences, distrust, and shyness, is far closer to Lily’s than to James’. Give him a chance, and you will find him an engaging young man, quite a scholar, and a good Potions student.” The headmaster smiled. “I would imagine you were shocked when he correctly answered your very difficult questions.”
Severus Snape again could not hold back a snort.
Dumbledore’s expression turned serious again. “Severus, I have just a few more brief points to make, before I release you to contemplate what kind of future you want. First, Remus Lupin responded to a student’s problem as I would expect any of my professors to do. He had no hidden agenda in bringing Mr Potter and his concerns to the attention of my Deputy Headmistress. This is not an example of the Marauders making your life miserable. If you harbour any thoughts of that type, my strong recommendation is to eliminate them.
“Second, it will not do for you to switch your tactics from Mr Potter and Mr Longbottom to other students, such as Miss Granger or Mr Weasley, for instance, or any other House, for that matter. That type of behaviour will not be tolerated, Severus, no matter who receives it.
“Third, do not attempt to use Legilimency on Mr Potter. He is extremely sensitive to it, and the repercussions should he catch you trying to enter his mind are beyond which I want to consider. You saw the power brought out by your questions. That example would pale in comparison to what would happen should he catch you trying to use Legilimency on him. And, I would agree with him.
“Lastly, Severus, on a purely personal note, your future is at stake. You know how fondly I regard you and how much respect I have for the decisions you have made and the risk they have placed you under. Regardless, Hogwarts cannot tolerate the type of behaviour captured in that memory. If you do not meet the standards of behaviour required of your position, I am afraid the consequences will be yours to bear. Please consider these consequences seriously. Severus, I am always available for any questions you may have or just to talk.”
A very shaken Severus Snape left the headmaster’s office and walked slowly back to his dungeon quarters close to the Slytherin common room, wondering which direction would best suit his own agenda.
Harry managed to nap from about nine thirty until Ron woke him two hours later. The short nap and time of the night combined to make the boy feel groggy, as if his brain was still in the off position. The first year Gryffindors left the common room together, but there was very little conversation, as most were quite tired as the midnight hour approached.
As they trudged through the hallways and up the winding Astronomy Tower, Hermione resolutely refused to meet Harry’s eyes any time he looked in her direction.
Maybe Ginny will be able to figure out what’s up with her. I sure can’t.
Part way up the Tower, they ran into the Ravenclaw first years and quiet greetings were exchanged. Harry smiled or nodded his head at the group he had spoken with what now seemed to be days ago, but in reality was that morning. Finally, they arrived at the top of the Tower, found the door open, and Professor Sinistra waiting for them on the ramparts.
The black-haired witch waited until the last student had entered the open-air classroom, before closing the door and casting Lumos Maximus. The students shuddered as the light assaulted their eyes.
The professor laughed lightly and said, “Just look away for a few moments and blink a couple of times and you will be fine. I’ll extinguish the light shortly when we begin to observe the stars, planets, and constellations that I will be discussing tonight.”
Professor Sinistra explained what they would be doing during the hour-long class, which consisted primarily of identifying various celestial bodies and charting where they were located in the night sky. She initially spoke of the North Star as a point of reference, then began to describe stars and constellations and their positions relative to the North Star.
“You will note a bright star approximately twenty degrees below and fifteen degrees to the left of the North Star. The star is called Sirius or the Dog Star. It is the brightest star in the Canis Major constellation . . .”
Harry stopped listening, as his thoughts went to his midnight flights with Ginny. I wonder if she’s flying now and looking at the same star. No, she’s asleep in bed. Her mum knows she flies so she doesn’t have to sneak out late anymore. C’mon, I’ll see her on Saturday.
The class proved to be interesting, and the first years left the Tower chatting much more energetically than when they had arrived. Harry noted, with some disappointment, that Hermione had bolted out the door as soon as the professor had dismissed the class, since he had hoped she might find students more like her among the Ravenclaws. He recalled overhearing Seamus, Dean, and both of Hermione’s roommates wondering previously why she had been placed in Gryffindor. The four thought she was much more suited to the more intellectually inclined Ravenclaws. Apparently, Hermione was not interested in meeting anyone from that House since she remained well ahead of the intermixed group and had already gone up to her dorm room by the time the seven remaining Gryffindors arrived at their common room.
The five wizards headed up to their room, changed quickly, and were all asleep within minutes, including one boy who had cast a Silencing Charm again.
“Harry? A moment, please,” Professor Lupin called out, just after he had dismissed the second DADA class of the year.
Harry noticed that several of his classmates looked at him curiously when they heard the summons, but those looks were beginning to lose their effect on him.
“Yes, sir?”
“Just a quick comment.” The professor lowered his voice. “The headmaster spoke with Professor Snape last night. Harry, be careful. I’m not sure how he will respond to the discussion. Just answer his questions, remain calm, and you’ll be fine. Let me know if anything untoward happens.”
The boy nodded. “Thank you, Professor.”
He walked away from the classroom, wondering why he didn’t feel more worried. He’s not going to hurt me. If he tries to intimidate me again, I’ll just picture Uncle Vernon.
Harry chuckled to himself, as he sped up to catch his classmates. Finally doing so, he overheard Ron saying, “Did she raise her hand for every question in Defence? Are you guys getting as sick of her as I am?”
Harry immediately knew which ‘she’ Ron referred to. But this time, his concern grew when he heard a few other first year Gryffindors agree with Ron’s question. Harry noted with a small smile that Neville looked irritated by the topic of conversation.
I wonder if Hermione has heard any of these comments. I hope not. She would be even more upset.
Hermione, again, had raced out of the DADA classroom and was already seated when the rest of the Gryffindors arrived in the clammy dungeon classroom. Professor Snape was standing behind the podium at the front of the classroom, watching without expression as the students filed in.
“Please be seated. I have a small announcement before we start today’s lesson.”
Every student’s head swivelled towards the Potions Professor, with expressions ranging from shock to curiosity, because the professor’s voice did not contain its usual arrogant tone. Harry prepared himself for the verbal attack that he expected to receive from the professor. He turned to Neville with a warning look, and his roommate nodded his head slightly in acknowledgment.
Snape cleared his throat and began pacing from one side of the classroom to the other. “I am afraid,” he said slowly and without his usual inflection, “that I got off on the wrong foot with certain members of this class.”
“What?” Everyone in the class, including the professor, heard Malfoy’s exclamation.
“Is there something you wish to add to my comments, Mr Malfoy?” The subtly threatening edge had returned to the professor’s voice.
Malfoy’s head jerked up. “Uh, no, sir.” The boy peered at his Head of House, his expression both confused and annoyed.
“Then I will proceed. As I was saying,” the professor resumed pacing, his hands clasped behind his back. “I owe an apology to the Gryffindor students in general and Longbottom and Potter specifically. The points deducted during the first class have been reversed so they now count as points given. Mr Longbottom, your potion was . . . adequate. Mr Potter, your answers were surprisingly correct, and I acknowledge that there was no way for you to have known what your classmate was doing with his dried nettles.”
Stunned silence greeted the Potion Professor’s announcement. Harry glanced briefly at Neville, who shrugged. Returning his gaze to the professor, Harry said, “Thank you, sir.”
Neville quickly followed. “Th-thanks . . . sir.”
“Good.” He nodded in the general direction of the two boys. “Let’s discuss the ingredients and processes for creating a Forgetfulness Potion.”
Snape waved his wand at the board at the front of the room, and the steps for preparing the potion appeared. Unlike the first class, though, he thoroughly explained each step, soliciting questions after each one. When the discussion was completed, the students gathered the necessary supplies, fired up their cauldrons, and prepared the ingredients as directed.
Again, unlike the previous lesson, the professor circulated through the classroom providing helpful advice and assistance as required.
“Very uniform cutting, Weasley. Good job.”
“Precisely three anti-clockwise stirs now, Goyle. That’s right.”
“Five more seconds until you add that ingredient, Miss Bulstrode. There you go.”
“Mr Malfoy! What did you just throw at Mr Longbottom’s cauldron?” Snape’s comment caught everyone’s attention.
Draco looked up in confusion. “I didn’t do anything, sir.”
“Five points from Slytherin. See me after class.” Snape’s gaze swept the classroom. “Back to work, please.”
At the end of the period, the professor returned to the front of the classroom. “By the colour, aroma, and consistency of your potions, it appears that most of you have prepared them properly. Please take a sample, write your name on the phial, and turn it in. Then you may leave. Good day.”
Within several minutes, the potions had been turned in to the professor and the workplaces cleaned. The students, though, remained silent until they were well beyond the dungeon classroom.
Then, in an explosion of sound, virtually all of the Gryffindors began to talk at once, plus several Slytherins, including Blaise, Daphne, and Tracey.
“I wonder what brought that on,” Daphne asked.
“Who cares?” Seamus responded. “As long as he stays that way, that’s all I care about.”
“It certainly was more conducive to learning,” Hermione said quietly.
Ron peered at her. “‘Conducive to learning?’ Does that mean Snape didn’t act like an arse this time?”
Most of the group laughed, but Neville, Harry and the two Slytherin witches looked quickly from Ron to Hermione. They saw the young witch’s body deflate and she began to blink rapidly. The rest of the group continued walking towards the Great Hall, while the four students dropped back slowly, until they were walking close to Hermione, with the two girls beside her and Neville and Harry about a metre or two of front of the trio.
Tracey whispered, “Ron was being rude again. Try not to pay attention to him, Hermione.”
The bushy-haired girl’s expression instantly changed from suspicious to startled. Her eyes remained wary, though.
“The Sorting Hat said both Tracey and I could have been in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, Hermione,” Daphne said softly. “We could have been roommates.” She laughed. “It appears with Ron not all of the snakes are in Slytherin.”
Hermione’s eyes jumped between the two Slytherin witches. “Why are you being nice to me?” she asked in a small voice.
The Gryffindor witch’s words stopped the boys in mid-stride, and they turned to face her. “Because you’re worth it, Hermione,” Neville said fiercely.
The witch immediately looked at Harry, her body shaking with anxiety. He nodded.
She stared at the boy for several seconds, almost as if she expected him to recant his agreement with Neville’s statement. When Harry nodded again, with eyebrows raised, the young witch could no longer hold back the tears that had pooled in her eyes.
Tracey and Daphne immediately moved to Hermione, whispering reassuring words, providing tissues, and gently holding her. Harry and Neville awkwardly backed away a few steps, too embarrassed to watch what was going on.
Within several minutes, Hermione had calmed down, and the odd quintet resumed walking towards the Great Hall.
Hermione spoke hesitantly, “I can’t go in there like this. You guys go on. I’ll return to my room.”
“No.” Four pairs of eyes jumped to Harry. “I know where we can go for lunch by ourselves. Wait for five minutes, then go up to the seventh floor. You know where the tapestry of the Dancing Trolls is?”
“I do,” Hermione said, still looking confused.
“There will be a door in the blank wall across from the trolls . . .” Four mouths moved simultaneously to ask the obvious question. “No questions.” He looked at each student and received assurances from each one. “Good. Five minutes.” He smiled at Hermione and set off at a half-jog.
Walking back and forth three times and repeating, ‘I need a room for lunch for five of us, something warm and comfortable, and a place where Hermione can fix herself up.”
Harry looked up and exhaled deeply when he saw the door appear in the middle of the wall. He immediately entered the room to see how his wish had been interpreted.
The room was smaller this time, almost cosy in dimension, with a round dining table and five chairs as its centrepiece, along with two angled love seats, two overstuffed arm chairs, all decorated in soothing blues and greens, and a crackling fire in a brick fireplace. The walls were panelled in honey-coloured wood. On the far right, Harry saw a door, which he assumed led to the facilities.
The dining table was laden with an assortment of sandwiches, salads, fruit, and juices, along with the place settings for five people.
Hermione should be able to relax here. I sure hope so.
A few moments later, the door opened slowly, and the four students hesitantly entered, not sure what to expect. Harry smiled to himself as he saw four sets of eyes sweep around the room, then move to the dining table and each piece of furniture. Daphne and Tracey beamed at him, and he returned their cheer. Neville’s mouth remained open, but Hermione again seemed to collapse into herself.
When Harry approached the group, she whispered hoarsely, “You did this for me?”
“Yes,” he replied quietly.
“After what I said last night?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Harry said as sincerely as he could, hoping that would dispel her doubts.
The bushy-haired witch launched herself at the small boy, knocking him back a half-step, before she wrapped her arms around him and buried her already damp face on his shoulder. Hesitantly, Harry’s arms moved up from his sides, and he awkwardly patted the overwhelmed witch on the back.
He glanced over Hermione’s shoulder at his three friends. Neville still appeared overwhelmed by everything that was happening, standing with his head cocked to one side and a puzzled expression on his face. Daphne smiled warmly, but Tracey watched them almost as if she were analyzing what was going on.
Harry caught Daphne’s eyes and mouthed ‘Loo,’ and moved his head in that direction. Daphne nodded her head to confirm her understanding.
Hermione stepped back several moments later, took the boy’s hands in hers, and whispered, “Thanks, Harry,” she looked around the room and at the three people behind her, “for all of this.” She finally released his hands and smiled through still watery eyes.
“Hermione,” Daphne asked softly, “can I show you where the loo is?”
The girl started, then nodded her head, and the two witches walked towards the door on the right side of the room.
Tracey said, “Let’s sit down.” She walked to the table without waiting for either boy and sat down. Neville sat on one side of the dark-haired witch, so Harry moved over to her other side.
Neville finally spoke. “How did you do this?”
Tracey looked at him curiously. “I think we would all like to know that. Plus, what’s going on with you and Hermione?”
Harry gulped in surprise, looking at the petite girl in confusion. “Nothing’s going on. Um, could we wait until Daphne and Hermione return to talk about the room?”
Tracey looked at him sharply. “Yeah. Sure. So you only have to say it once.”
Harry looked at Neville, who had been staring at Tracey. Neville turned his head and nodded his okay to wait. Seconds later, Daphne and Hermione emerged from the loo and walked to the table, Daphne sitting next to Harry and Hermione by Neville.
Hermione’s eyes moved from Daphne around to Neville, stopping momentarily on each person. “Thank you. I know I haven’t been the easiest person to get to know or the nicest.” She looked directly at Harry. “So, this means a lot to me.” She brightened. “Harry, can you tell us about this room, how you found it, how you got the food ready so quickly . . .”
Everyone started laughing. After a fretful second, Hermione joined them. When they calmed down, she looked a bit sheepish.
“Okay, I guess I got a little carried away,” she admitted.
“A little?” Neville teased.
Hermione raised her head and looked down her nose. “Yes, just a tad.”
Harry looked at the other two witches and saw they were smiling as he was. Tracey seemed much more relaxed. She reached under the table and squeezed his hand. ‘Good job, Potter,’ she mouthed. His smile got bigger.
“Well?” Hermione looked at him. “The room?”
Harry took a deep breath. “Don’t you guys want to eat first?” When they started eyeing the fruit — most likely to throw at him — he reconsidered.
“Okay.” He stopped and looked at his four friends. “When I told Professor McGonagall I found the room, she told me not to tell anyone . . .”
Daphne arched an eyebrow and said, “Imagine how the older students would use it if they found out.” She and Tracey grinned, while Hermione looked puzzled initially, then her eyes widened rapidly. Harry and Neville exchanged shrugs.
“Oh, just a second.” Harry turned and was about to wandlessly and non-verbally cast Silencing and Door Locking spells, when he caught himself at the last second. Instead, he pulled his wand out and muttered, ”Silencio, Colloportus,” which was followed by an odd squelching sound. “That locks the door and stops any sounds from escaping the room.
“Anyhow, I found the room, learned how it works, and McGonagall swore me to secrecy.”
“Then, why did you bring us here, Harry, if you could get into trouble with Professor McGonagall?” Hermione asked but in interest, not accusation.
Before he could answer, Daphne replied instead, “Hermione, Harry knew you needed to get away, but with us, not by yourself. Plus, you have to eat!” With a grin, Daphne grabbed the sandwich platter and passed it to Hermione. “Take several!”
In seconds the salad and fruit containers and the pitchers of juice were being passed around as the hungry first years served themselves, then dug in with relish.
Finishing a bite of roast beef and cheddar cheese, with ground mustard, all on cracked wheat bread, Harry asked Hermione, “Did the Hat consider any other Houses for you?”
Hermione looked up, shook her head, and swallowed a forkful of macaroni salad. “Just Ravenclaw. Initally, I thought that’s where I’d go. He even mentioned Slytherin briefly.” Her eyes ducked. “But he decided I was too stuck on following rules, and he said that would cause problems for me in your House.”
“So, the four of us could have been in Ravenclaw and almost Slytherin,” Tracey said. “Do you see what Harry is trying to do now?”
Hermione thought for only a few seconds, then she peered at Harry. “You want to break down the House barriers?”
Harry stared at the smaller Slytherin witch. “Thanks, Davis.” Then he grinned at her. “It just seemed like there were a lot of different ways to divide the students. You could divide them by year, alphabetically, randomly, by counting one through four over and over, rather than by qualities that may change while they’re here. I figured putting people who have the same qualities together limits them and sets up competition instead of the Houses working together. I talked with Mr Weasley about it, and he said to talk to the first years, since the others would be more set in their way. He also thought I should talk with Professor McGonagall, but I haven’t done that yet. Daphne and Tracey stopped by Ron and my compartment on the way up here, so I started with them. Daphne’s family and mine are related from . . .”
“About three centuries ago, I think,” Daphne said.
“Same with Susan Bones’ family, so I talked with her next. Hannah Abbott was with her, so we talked with her, too.”
Hermione started to say something, stopped, then ploughed ahead. “I thought she would be at the library again last night.”
The two Slytherin witches looked sharply between Hermione and Harry. The boy ducked his head, not comfortable sharing what he and Professor McGonagall had discussed.
Hermione looked like she usually did when a professor had asked a question. Finally, she couldn’t hold back and blurted, “Harry, don’t you realize she was really flirting with you?”
Three “What’s?” chorused — from Daphne, Tracey, and Neville.
“Yeah, I finally figured it out. She’s nice, but . . .”
“You don’t feel like that about her?” Tracey asked.
Harry shook his head. “No. It’s like that part of me . . . doesn’t work.”
“Yet,” Daphne added, finishing the sentence. “Harry, no offence to either you or Neville, but you’re boys. You’re not supposed to feel that way yet.” She grinned at both wizards.
Daphne’s teasing banter brought laughter to the group, and Harry’s concern dissipated. Whew! I thought maybe something was missing in me.
“We probably should get going,” Neville said.
Everyone nodded, but their eyes moved from the food and dishes on the table to Harry. “Don’t worry, the room will take care of it.” As they walked towards the door, he said without thinking, “Thank you, room.”
Four heads whipped around, looking at him in surprise, except for Hermione, who was deep in thought.
“Oh! The room’s sentient, isn’t it?” she asked, but her tone was closer to stating a fact.
Harry closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he looked directly at the witch. “Hermione?”
She froze, a look of concern covered her face, then it turned to worry, but finally a smile broke out. “Okay. I’ll behave myself.”
Harry laughed lightly. “Thanks.” The mood brightened, as the five friends’ smiles returned.
Harry cancelled the spells and carefully opened the door. After searching the hallway in both directions, he said, “It’s clear. Let’s go.”
They departed and the door immediately disappeared. A few minutes later, the two Slytherins split off from the group, while the Gryffindors went outside, heading for their Herbology class.
When they entered Greenhouse #1, Harry noticed that Hannah and Susan were at one table, whispering to each other. They broke off their earnest conversation when they saw the Gryffindors. Hannah turned a little pink, but both witches smiled and waved. After a slight hesitation, Harry went over to join them, followed by Hermione and Neville.
The lesson went smoothly, as the first years learned how to trim Abyssinian shrivelfig plants, which were used in Shrinking Solutions. The two Hufflepuffs and the three Gryffindors talked easily during the class, including Hermione who seemed less judgmental of the ‘Puffs compared to her comments from the first night.
When Professor Sprout ended the class, the five students walked out together. Susan, Hermione, and Neville continued talking earnestly about the shrivelfig’s useful properties. Harry found his focus drifting until he noticed Hannah walking next to him. The muscles in his back tightened, as he struggled to put into words what Professor McGonagall and he had discussed.
He looked at the blond witch and was ready to begin speaking when she said quietly, “I owe you an apology, Harry. I think I let myself get too far ahead, you know?”
He nodded, both relieved that Hannah had brought up the subject and appalled that they were actually having such a discussion.
The girl’s voice became even quieter. “I saw you and Hermione in the library and well, I admit I was really hurt but Susan made me realise that you probably didn’t even know that I sort of wanted us to be . . .” She giggled nervously and blushed. “I hope I didn’t do anything to stop us from being . . . you know . . . regular friends . . . not the other kind.” The last words rushed out. Hannah had been looking at the path in front of them as she spoke, but when she finished, she looked at Harry with eyes that almost pleaded with him.
His stomach lurched. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he whispered hesitantly. “You’re nice. I want to be regular friends.”
The blond witch exhaled, then smiled. “Good. I want that, too. Sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.” Her eyes returned to the ground.
“Don’t worry. We’re still friends. Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She beamed at the boy. “Is Hermione going to be part of our group now?”
Harry laughed. “It’s not like I have a plan, you know. But, probably. We’ll see.”
Hannah smiled. “Good. It would help her to have some . . . regular friends.”
Harry smiled back at his friend. By this time they had reached the Entrance Hall. With a chorus of goodbyes the Hufflepuffs went downstairs, while the three Gryffindors trekked up to their Tower.
After homework, dinner, and a letter to Ginny, another day ended, as a pattern began to establish itself on the lives of the Hogwarts first years.
Chapter 25: The Potter Philosophy
Author's Notes: First and foremost, my thanks to two absolutely spiffing people: cwarbeck and Peter/MyGinevra. By now, you should know this is where I thank cel for her brilliant beta work, and this chapter is no exception. Thanks, cel!
By the time you read this, I will temporarily be without Internet access, so Peter has volunteered to submit this chapter. Otherwise, the posting would be delayed about a week, and we all know how testy you guys get. So, let’s give a round of applause to Peter for stepping into the breech. I would be remiss if I did not mention that Peter/MyGinevra is the author of the hugely popular, The Hogs Head. I highly recommend it!
Even though I’ll be electronically silent for a few days, I will respond to each review as quickly as I can. You know how much your comments are appreciated! [Note from Peter: Jim WILL be able to respond to reviews.]
For those of you who have been pushing for more Harry/Ginny interaction – and you know who you are! – this chapter contains a lot of their special “goodness.” Hope you enjoy it! I’ll be talking with you soon.
“What’s up with Granger?” Ron asked Harry as they walked to the Friday morning Charms class after breakfast. “First she won’t talk with anyone. Now she wants to be part of every conversation. It’s annoying.”
Harry shrugged his shoulders. “Dunno. She’s just trying to fit in. Hermione’s okay.”
Ron snorted. Since they were entering the classroom, the conversation stopped, and they took their normal seats.
Why is Ron so concerned about Hermione? Why doesn’t he just ignore her if she bothers him? It’s almost like he’s looking for things to criticize. Ron sure wasn’t like this at The Burrow. Maybe it will help him seeing Ginny and his parents tomorrow.
Professor Flitwick reviewed the two charms the class had learned during the week — Wingardium Leviosa and Lumos. Harry and Hermione were able to cast the charms easily, but this time Neville and Susan Bones were also quite proficient. The class ended without Seamus’ setting fire to any feathers, and the Gryffindors moved on to DADA and Professor Lupin.
Once the students were settled, Professor Lupin said, “We will pair up again and practice Shield and Disarming Spells. What is the incantation for the Shield Charm? Yes, Miss Padma Patil.”
“It is Protego, Professor,” answered the Ravenclaw twin.
“Good. Two points to Ravenclaw. Now, the Disarming incantation? Mr Weasley, what do you think it is?”
“Expellimarmus?” The redhead shrugged.
“Close. Miss Granger?”
“Expelliarmus, sir.”
Harry heard Ron muttering under his breath, though he did hear ‘show-off’ clearly enough.
“Two points to Gryffindor. Please pair up again, but this time try to choose someone from the other House.”
Anthony Goldstein shouted out, “Harry?” He motioned back and forth between the two of them.
Harry nodded and walked over to the Ravenclaw. Once all the students were paired up, Professor Lupin waved his wand and cleared the desks back to the sides of the room. “Okay, everyone, spread out. There’s plenty of room. I’ll give you each five minutes, and you can switch from one spell to the other. I will circulate and advise where improvements can be made. Please start now.”
The room was soon filled with a series of Protego and Expelliarmus incantations. Harry made doubly sure he used minimal power with both spells, not wanting to send another Ravenclaw sliding across the floor and gaining the attention of his classmates again. He found Anthony to be technically perfect, with the pronunciations and wand movements exactly replicating the text book and what Professor Lupin had told them. But, Harry felt that perfection caused the Ravenclaw to react slowly, making it easy to disarm him or set a shield well in time to block his spell.
“Anthony, may I make a suggestion?” Harry asked in a low voice.
“Sure,” he answered, smiling. “I’d like to win at least once today.”
“Are you thinking about the wand movement and the exact wording before casting the spells?” Harry asked.
“Yes, of course . . . ohhh. You’ve already cast the spell by that time. I’m going through my head first, aren’t I?”
“I think so.”
Anthony concentrated for a moment. “So, just do it?” Harry nodded. “Merlin, that will be different.”
“Well, you do the spells really well. It’s just your speed.”
“Thanks, Harry.”
The drills continued and the double session ended much sooner than any of the students anticipated.
Professor Lupin called out, “All of you showed improvement today. Think about the suggestions I made when I spoke with you.” He smiled. “But no practicing outside of the classroom. Have a good weekend, and I’ll see you on Tuesday. Mr Potter, please stay behind.”
Harry walked over to the professor. Once the class had emptied, his parents’ friend asked, “How was Potions yesterday?”
The question startled Harry, not coming close to any he had anticipated. He looked briefly at the wizard before answering. “It was an excellent class. Professor Snape apologized and was helpful, instead of being critical.”
Remus nodded. “Harry, Professor Snape is a very proud wizard. While I am pleased he responded positively, please still be very careful. I went through Hogwarts with Professor Snape, so I know how long he can hold a grudge.” Lupin shook himself. “Well, I’ve kept you from lunch long enough. Good job with Mr Goldstein, by the way. You picked out exactly what he was doing wrong.”
“Thank you, Professor.” Harry paused a second to see if Lupin had anything else to say, but when nothing was forthcoming he left the classroom. As soon as Harry entered the hallway, he stopped.
Hermione, Anthony, and Padma Patil were standing in the hallway, apparently waiting for him. Each smiled when they saw him walk towards them.
Anthony asked, “Did you get in trouble for beating me every time?” He smiled only after he finished the question.
Harry laughed. “Yeah. Professor Lupin said I could crush your confidence. I told him there was no chance of that happening.”
The four first years laughed. When they calmed down, Padma caught Harry’s eye.
“We want to be part of whatever you’re doing.” The Ravenclaw witch stated their intent so matter-of-factly that Harry stared at her wide-eyed.
“It’s apparent you don’t want to be restricted to people just in Gryffindor,” Anthony said, “and we like that idea.”
Padma continued, “There are good people in each House that we’d like to get to know.”
“Both Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis have been very nice to me,” Hermione said softly.
“And Blaise Zabini seems to be okay, too, but I haven’t talked with him.” Harry’s forehead furrowed. “You guys know I don’t have a detailed plan, right?” They all nodded. Harry averted his eyes and looked at the floor. “It just seems better not to be limited by qualities selected by the Founders a long time ago.” He looked up and saw the three first years nodding their agreement.
Hermione smiled. “So, we’re part of your group?”
Harry shook his head. “Nope, it’s not my group. We’re just all friends. Okay?”
For some reason, his right hand moved forward, into the area in the middle of the four students. Instinctively, the other three magical children reached out and grasped Harry Potter’s hand. All were smiling.
Unnoticed by his students, Remus Lupin quietly closed the door to his classroom. He did not consider himself an emotional man; he much preferred academic pursuits and the cerebral realm, which better enabled him to keep the demons at bay. But seeing Harry interact with his fellow students like that, he quickly made a silent oath to his departed friends, James and Lily Potter, to do everything in his power to help their son reach whatever his destiny was.
The four wizarding students reluctantly parted when they entered the Great Hall, with Padma and Anthony walking to the Ravenclaw table, and the two Gryffindors joining their classmates. The flow of conversation at the table momentarily paused as the new additions sat down next to each other and began filling their plates. But the chatter quickly resumed, and lunch proceeded as usual, with one exception.
“Harry, will you come by my office tonight at seven, please?”
“Of course, Professor.”
The headmaster’s gaze took in each of the Gryffindor first years. “Have an enjoyable class in History of Magic.”
Ron wisely bit his lips to keep from exclaiming.
Unfortunately the lecture was as exciting as Professor Binns’ pearl white complexion, and the class shuffled off an hour and a half later, stretching, yawning, and having no idea what their ghostly professor had discussed.
Wanting to shake off the sleepy feeling induced by the History of Magic lecture, Harry pulled Ron aside when they reached their dorm room.
“Want to go down to the pitch and fly before dinner?” Harry whispered.
“Yeah!” Ron responded loudly, turning red when their three other roommates stared at him.
Harry pulled out the shrunken Nimbus from the secret compartment in his trunk and put it in his pocket. After locking the special compartment and the trunk, he and Ron went down to the common room.
“I probably should let the twins know where we’re going,” Ron said.
He walked over to a table where they were seated, along with their best mate, Lee Jordan, and the three witches who would be the starting Chasers on the House Quidditch team, Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet.
Ron quickly rejoined Harry, and they left the common room. Rushing through the castle and across the grounds, Ron was flying above the green pitch just minutes later. After ten minutes of wending around the stadium, and attempting some mild dives, loops, and rolls, Ron reluctantly returned the Nimbus to Harry.
“You know I’m going to get used to this broom, so I’ll never be able to fly our Comets again.” Ron grinned. “If you’re wondering what to get me for Christmas or my next birthday . . .”
Harry shook his head. “Your parents were upset when I got Ginny parchment, ink, and a quill. Can you imagine what they’d do if I got you a Nimbus?” He grinned at the lanky redhead and kicked off.
Despite rocketing up almost vertically, Harry still heard Ron’s reply. “I’d return all my other presents, so don’t worry about it.”
Harry grinned at his friend’s obsession, but the words, along with the other concerns, problems, challenges, and changes from the week, melted into the air, as Harry took the Nimbus through its paces. After shooting to a height about one-hundred metres above the stadium, Harry pointed the broom downward, aiming at the wall at the end of the pitch, behind the goal posts. Leaning forward, almost on top of the handle, Harry felt the power surge through the broom as it accelerated at a breakneck speed.
Harry maintained the course until the wall loomed so large he could see dirt spots and small cracks in the wood. Pulling up hard on the front of the broom allowed him to skim just above the top of the wall, before he banked into a sharp curve and did a series of loops down the length of the pitch. At the other end of the stadium, Harry rolled into a turn and followed the perimeter of the wall surrounding the pitch.
Finally, with a huge grin, he brought the broom back to a vertical ascent, rocketing well over one-hundred and fifty metres above the top of the stadium. Next, he cut power and brought the broom to a virtual standstill and leaned back in one motion until he faced the ground again. Snapping forward, with his body flat on the broomstick, Harry tried to see how fast the Nimbus 2000 could move.
In seconds, the grass became a green blur and seeing individual blades an impossibility. Harry focused totally on the uprushing ground, and the Nimbus pulled out of the Wronski as if it had read his mind. When he felt the telltale brush of the grass on his trainers, Harry released all of the emotions created by the first week’s events.
“Wooo hooo!”
He toured the perimeter of the pitch once more to drain the adrenaline that had spiked during the Wronski and brought the Nimbus to a stop in front of a wildly grinning Ron Weasley.
Seconds later, Harry was inundated by more redheads, plus several other people, who seemingly had appeared out of thin air.
“We are so going to win the Cup this year,” a feminine voice cheered.
“Didn’t we tell you . . .” asked a much more familiar voice.
“. . . that our Harry was something special?” finished his verbal clone.
Finally the group stepped back from their good-natured physical and verbal assault on the small boy, and Harry saw six smiling faces looking at him, Ron, the twins, and the three Gryffindor Chasers.
Ginny had told Harry how to tell the twins apart, so he knew George was speaking. “We wanted Katie, Angelina, and Alicia to see what we’ve been talking about.”
“Some would say,” Fred added, “that they were somewhat doubtful of our veracity.”
George finished the thought. “They have no doubts anymore.”
Harry couldn’t stop grinning. He glanced at Ron and saw the same smile on his face. Then, he noticed the three witches enviously eyeing the Nimbus.
Before he could say anything, Angelina asked, “Is it really as fast and responsive as they say?”
“Yeah, it’s almost like it can read my mind. On the Wronski, it felt like the Nimbus pulled out of the dive on its own. It’s so fast it has to be responsive or else you’d get ploughed or run into things all the time.”
The group laughed, and then Katie asked another question. “You’ve ridden it a lot?”
Harry immediately shook his head. “This is the second time.”
Five open mouths and ten wide eyes greeted his remark.
Ron chipped in. “Harry and I have been out twice since Professor McGonagall ordered it for him.”
Harry looked at the three Chasers. “Do any of you want to try it?” He literally had to take a step back from the explosion of affirmative answers coming from the trio.
The tall, athletically built Angelina Johnson stepped towards him. “Harry, if you’re sure you don’t mind, all three of us would love to try it out.”
“I’m sure. We’re team mates, right?” He handed the Nimbus to her.
Angelina didn’t wait another second, kicking off with an enthusiastic ‘Whoot!’
Five minutes later, she landed, wearing an ear-to-ear grin. “It’s even better than you described.” She handed the broom to Alicia, her third year roommate. “Don’t stay on too long. You’ll hate your broom if you do.”
Alicia grinned and launched towards the far end of the pitch. After a series of aerobatic manoeuvres, she gave the Nimbus to her second year team mate. “Katie, it takes a minute or two to get used to the broom, then it’s like you’re part of it.”
Katie smiled at the new Seeker and mouthed, ‘Thanks, Harry,’ and was gone a second later, rocketing down the pitch and returning at an even faster speed.
“Well, I’m glad she held back,” George said, shaking his head.
Fred grinned at the two remaining Chasers. “Harry, you’ll find these three young witches are quite crazy . . .”
“. . . but excellent Chasers.” George completed his twin’s thought.
Angelina smacked Fred on the shoulder, while at the same time Alicia lightly whacked the back of George’s head.
Katie’s screaming arrival ended the byplay, as she circled the group shouting loudly, and then brought the Nimbus in for a smooth landing. As soon as her feet touched the ground, the brown-haired witch raced over to Harry and threw her arms around the smaller boy.
Harry felt his emotions swinging wildly from elation that the tree girls had enjoyed the Nimbus so much to mortification that he was in a full-body hug with an obviously female team mate.
When Katie finally stepped back from the shell-shocked but widely smiling boy, she grinned at her team mates. “I think Harry is a keeper.”
Fred shook his head. “No. Oliver is . . .”
“Our Keeper,” George finished.
Within seconds, a series of groans filled the air, and the girls started smacking both twins. Finally, the two redheads ran off to keep from being bruised by the female members of the team.
Instead of chasing after the twins, the girls turned their attention to the two first years. Katie and Alicia looped their arms through Harry’s, while Angelina did the same to Ron.
Katie smiled at the small boy. “Tell me all about yourself, Harry.”
They all laughed when he blushed Weasley red.
During the fun, relaxed dinner, the Gryffindor first years kibitzed with the second and third year Quidditch players, and even a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws joined in. Walking back afterwards, Harry discussed the plans with Ron for visiting his houses the next day.
“We need to get up early and eat breakfast,” Harry explained. “Then, we’ll Floo to your house. The keys to the houses are portkeys, so we’ll leave from The Burrow with your mum and dad and Ginny, visit the houses and return to your house and Floo back to school.”
“Cool. Uh, how many houses again?” Ron asked.
“Four. I didn’t even know they existed until I went to Gringotts with your dad and Ginny. I wonder if Dumbledore ever would have told me about them.”
“Do you think you’ll be able to live at one of them during the summer?” Ron had a puzzled expression on his face.
“Nah. No one would let me live by myself. I’ll only be twelve in July. My parents had friends, like Professor Lupin, I might be able to live with.” The boy shook his head. “But I know Dumbledore wouldn’t like that. Besides, I liked staying at your house.”
“Yeah, so did we.” Ron cheeks coloured. “Sorry about that prank the last night. It really was meant for Ginny.”
“I know. It’s okay.” The boys arrived at the common room. “I’m going to the library for a bit. I want to write Ginny before I see Dumbledore at seven.”
“Harry! It’s Friday night! Are you mental? Besides, you’ll see Ginny tomorrow.”
I can’t tell Ron I want to write to Ginny. “I just want to confirm everything. I’ll see you after I talk with Dumbledore.”
“Okay.” Ron wandered over towards Seamus and Dean, who were playing Exploding Snap, while Harry raced up the stairs to get his book bag with its writing materials.
Minutes later, he was in the library. When he entered the long rectangular room, he saw Hermione in her usual place and walked towards her. She must have heard his footsteps, because she looked up, then smiled and gestured to join her. Harry smiled back.
“Whatcha studying?” he asked as he sat down across from the brown-haired witch.
“Well, I’ve finished all the homework, so I’m just doing some light reading. I’ve learned some fascinating facts in Hogwarts: A History. What are you doing here?”
“I’m writing a letter to Ginny, you know, Ron’s sister. I’ve been letting her know what’s happening in school. Telling her about the lessons, so she can follow along. She’ll be here next year, so I thought it would help.”
Hermione looked thoughtfully at the boy. “That’s nice of you to do that, Harry. I bet she appreciates hearing from you. Oh, you have that meeting with Professor Dumbledore tonight. I should let you get started, then.”
“Yeah, I guess I should.” He pulled out the parchment, ink, and quill and started writing.
Dear Ginny,
I wanted to write even though we’ll be seeing you tomorrow morning. It sure seems like we’ve been gone more than a week. Does it seem that way to you, too?
Ron and I are all set. We’ll Floo to your house tomorrow morning, and I’ll bring the keys to the four houses. I’ve tried not to think about them. I guess it’s because it makes me think of what didn’t happen, and these houses are places I could have lived in. Kind of a weird feeling.
Well, enough of that! We’ll have a great day with Ron and your parents.
It’s been a pretty good week at school. Please let your dad know I’ve met some new people. In fact, I’m writing this in the library and Hermione Granger is here. She’s the girl I’ve said was rude. Lot more to it than that. We have a lot to talk about when we meet.
Anyhow, I’ve made friends with two witches in both Slytherin and Hufflepuff, a witch and wizard in Ravenclaw, plus Hermione, so we’re starting to go outside the Houses. Neville Longbottom is part of the group, too, sort of. He’s pretty shy at times but a good bloke. I think you’d like him.
Well, Dumbledore told me to meet him at seven tonight, so I shouldn’t go on too much longer. Hope it doesn’t last too long.
Oh, please hold onto Hedwig. I’ll tell her that, too. There’s no sense you sending a letter when we’ll be together soon.
I can’t wait to see you.
Your best friend,
Harry
Harry put the letter in an envelope and wrote Ginny’s name on it. “I’m going to the Owlery to mail this, then Dumbledore’s office.”
“Hope the meeting goes well.” Hermione smiled. “See you later?”
“Not if I see you first.” Harry slapped his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. “Sorry, Ginny and I used to say that.” And Sammi before her. The thought came unbidden to Harry’s mind. He quickly tried to expel it.
Hermione sniffed and said in her haughtiest voice. “It’s corny but faintly humorous.” Then, she grinned at her friend. “See you later.”
Harry waved and walked out of the library, noticing that Madam Pince watched him each step of the way.
Harry was the only person in the Owlery, and moments after he had arrived, Hedwig flew down and landed on his outstretched arm.
“Hi, girl, how are you doing here? Do you like all these other owls? Have you made any friends?” Harry had been stroking her back feathers while talking with his familiar. “I have a letter for Ginny. Just stay there. She won’t have a return letter, because Ron and I will be there tomorrow morning, so I’ll see you then.”
Harry took out two owl treats from a pocket in his robes. “Here you go, girl.”
When she finished both treats, Harry tied the envelope to her leg. “Have a safe flight, Hedwig.”
She gently nibbled his finger tips, then with a soft hoot, stretched towards the open window and started her journey south. Harry watched until the owl disappeared from sight, wishing he were going with her. Tomorrow, he thought.
As he walked through the corridors on the way to the headmaster’s office, Harry’s thoughts were on the visits to his properties and his meeting with Dumbledore, when a sarcastic drawl interrupted them.
“You shouldn’t be wandering the halls alone, Potter. No telling what trouble could find you.”
Ignore the prat. I wonder why he isn’t in detention now? Harry kept on walking, not even bothering to look back at the blond-haired boy.
“You’ll learn not to walk away from a Malfoy, you half-blood.” Draco's voice betrayed his frustration.
Harry listened carefully, ready to move at the first sounds of robes rustling or physical movement. When none reached his ears, he sped up slightly, and headed to the headmaster’s office. When he reached the gargoyle, Harry stood there in frustration. Dumbledore forgot to give me the password. He looked at the guard statue.
“Uh, excuse me? I’m supposed to meet with Professor Dumbledore at seven o’clock, but he forgot to give me the password. I’m Harry Potter, if you can check or something.”
The gargoyle’s eyes glanced at the boy’s forehead, then the statue moved to the side, and the stairs began revolving upwards.
Harry shook his head. “Thank you.”
When he reached the top of the stairway, Harry expected Dumbledore’s usual early greeting. But he walked to the large oak door in silence, pulled back the doorknocker that was in the shape of an animal he didn’t recognize, and let it drop.
A confused Albus Dumbledore answered the door. “Harry? How did you get up here? I was positive I forgot to provide the password to you.”
Why isn’t he letting me in?
“I just told the statue at the bottom of stairs that I was meeting you at seven and gave it my name.” Harry shrugged. “He moved out to the way and the stairs started moving.”
“Well, that is unusual.” The headmaster continued to look pensive. “The statue is a gargoyle, a rather grotesque decorative figure originally used as a form of downspout to cast water from the roofs and rain gutters on buildings.” The old wizard brightened. “Regardless, I’ve been looking forward to your visit, Harry. Please come in.”
The headmaster opened the door more widely and swept his arm back in invitation. After they sat down, the older wizard offered the inevitable lemon drop, which Harry declined.
“Harry, I’m very interested in hearing how your first week has gone. Feel free to talk about anything that has happened.” Harry noticed Dumbledore’s eyes were twinkling and wondered if there was something going on when they did that.
“Well . . . the food has been great. It still is strange not to have to make the meals and clean up myself, though.” Dumbledore winced at the last comment. “The castle and grounds are interesting. The castle seems to be alive, with some of the staircases moving, the portraits, and all.” The boy paused. “Uh, what else did you want to know?”
“What did you think of your professors?”
Harry bit back a laugh. “Professors Flitwick, McGonagall, and Lupin are excellent. Professors Sprout and Sinistra seem very good. No one can figure out Sn . . . Professor Snape. Oh, Professor Binns, well, being raised as a Muggle I hoped to learn about the wizarding world in his class, but . . .”
“Yes, Professor Binns was overly interested in goblin wars even when he was alive.”
Why does he let someone like that teach here? It’s a waste of time. The class is worthless.
The headmaster’s voice deepened and softened. “Harry, I’ve noticed that you seem to have made a lot of friends already. Are you comfortable at school now?”
Harry shook his head. “No, I’m not comfortable here. Two months ago, I didn’t know magic or Hogwarts or you existed. Now I find I’m famous,” the boy’s voice turned hard and deliberate, “for something I didn’t do. It was my mother. So, people point and stare and whisper. And I’m just learning about the wizarding world and magic. It would have helped if I’d known about it a long time ago.”
“Yes, well, that is a discussion for another day,” the headmaster said. “Did you notice a change in Professor’s Snape’s behaviour in your last class?”
“Yes, he proved he could teach if he wants to. The class was excellent.”
“I thought it was time to let Professor Snape know his approach to teaching was not acceptable. I was quite pleased that he followed my advice and seemed to improve dramatically from one day to the next. I’ve been working diligently with the professor to share his potions expertise more freely, without House concerns. Your positive comment concerning the last class is reassuring.”
Harry caught his flare of irritation before he said anything. He wouldn’t have done anything if Professor Lupin hadn’t given my memory to Professor McGonagall. Who does he think he’s kidding? Snape’s been like that for years, according to Percy and the twins, and Dumbledore is taking the credit for changing him?
Harry shifted uncomfortably, trying to move his shirt that seemed to be stuck to his back.
“Well, Harry, any plans for the weekend?”
Harry wasn’t sure if he hid his surprised reaction quickly enough. “Nothing much. Maybe do some flying with Ron.”
“Oh, yes, Professor McGonagall told me she ordered a ‘House broom,’ as she called it. Congratulations on making the team. First year, that’s quite unusual. I was a Chaser, but that was many, many years ago. More relevant, your father was an excellent Chaser. No doubt you received some of his talents. I look forward to seeing you play.”
The headmaster looked at his student in a grandfatherly manner. “Do you have any questions, Harry? Anything you would like to discuss?”
“No, sir.” Does he know what we’re doing tomorrow? I don’t know how he could.
“Well, then, thank you for visiting with me tonight. Harry, my door is always open for you. I hope you’ll feel comfortable bringing any of your concerns to me.” The headmaster rose and towered over his first year student, who quickly stood up and walked towards the door.
“Thank you, Headmaster,” Harry said as sincerely as he could.
“Good night, Harry.” The headmaster’s eyes sparkled at Harry, as he left the office.
Once the door closed, Dumbledore sat down with relief, thinking that maybe, he had actually begun to mend his bridges with Harry Potter.
“Harry? Where are you two going?” Hermione looked up from her spot on the sofa in front of the fire place in the Gryffindor common room.
Ron muttered something unintelligible, which Harry tried to ignore. “Oh, we’re going out flying for a bit. Trying to get used to the new broom.”
She smiled. “Have fun.”
Harry tried to smile but wasn’t sure he succeeded. “Thanks.”
Ron looked sour when they exited the Portrait. “She’s so bloody nosy,” he griped.
“Shh, Hermione’s okay. Give her a chance.” Harry replied, with a touch of irritation in his voice.
They quickly made their way to the seventh floor corridor opposite the tapestry. Harry paced three times back and forth while thinking ‘I need a room with a Floo connected to the Weasleys’ house, The Burrow.’ He exhaled heavily when the door appeared and he pulled an astonished Ron Weasley in by the arm.
Ron goggled at the small room, empty except for a large fireplace that faced the door. Only a small porcelain pot of Floo powder sat on the simple wood mantel.
Harry turned to Ron. “You know what to do, right?”
Ron nodded numbly and walked over to the fireplace, took a pinch of powder, stepped into the green flames, and called out, “The Burrow.”
In a flash, the fire returned to normal. Before entering, Harry looked around. “Thank you, room. Once I leave, please disappear. We will need to do the same thing in reverse later today. We’ll return from The Burrow as close as possible to five in the afternoon. Would you please be here then? We’ll call out ‘Room of Requirement Fireplace Floo.’ Thank you.”
With a pinch of powder, the flames again turned green and Harry announced, “The Burrow.” He went spinning as usual, but this time as he began to slow down, Harry concentrated on bending his knees slightly and readying his arms to hold out for balance.
As he exited The Burrow’s sitting room fireplace, Harry smiled at landing on his feet, though his eyes were still adjusting from the darkness of the Floo Network. He automatically extended his arms to ensure he would remain upright. A second later, he smacked into something — or something ran into him — as a crimson-coloured curtain cut off his sight.
The next thing he knew he smelt an explosion of wildflowers, and Ginny Weasley was hugging the stuffing out of him. Harry smiled at the realization he was exactly where he wanted to be, and his arms encircled the petite girl.
When the two children finally parted, one smile mirrored the other. Shining gold-flecked brown eyes locked on those of emerald green, which reflected the shared warmth. Two pairs of hands sought their mates and intertwined, instinctively and innocently.
“I missed you,” they said simultaneously, then laughed together.
Ginny ducked her head. “It’s seemed longer than a week.”
“Yeah, but we’re here now.”
She grinned. “That you are, Mr Potter.”
Someone clearing his throat brought the children out of their two-person world. “It’s nice to see you, Harry,” Mr Weasley said, kneeling down.
“You still need some fattening up.” Mrs Weasley smiled widely.
Harry stared at the two adults for a brief moment, then reacted without thought, launching himself into their waiting arms. Harry luxuriated in their hugs, the hands rubbing his back, ruffling his hair, and an especially small hand that squeezed his shoulder.
Merlin, I knew I’d missed them, but I had no idea it was this much.
As the parents and children released each other, Harry noticed Ron standing off to the side, a puzzled look on his face.
Before he could say anything to his roommate, Mr Weasley said, “Not that I want to rush anything, but if we are going to see all four houses today, we probably should get moving.”
“I have the four keys,” Harry said and pulled them out of his pocket. The substantial gold keys each featured the Potter Family crest at the top, with a number, one through four, below the crest. “All I need to do is tap whichever key we want, say ‘Potter residence,’ and it will take us there. We can go in order if you want — Potter Estates, Godric’s Hollow, the Lake District retreat, and the Notting Hill townhouse.”
“Whatever you want, dear,” Mrs Weasley said, watching him closely.
“That sounds fine, Harry,” Ginny said with a smile, while her dad nodded.
Ron just shrugged, still staring at the gold keys.
“Let’s go in that order, then.” Harry moved the first key away from the others on the thick key chain. He looked between Mr and Mrs Weasley. “I guess we all touch it?” They both smiled and nodded. “Then, I’ll touch the key with my wand and send us off. Okay?”
Five fingers were placed on the key. Harry touched his wand to it.
“Potter residence.”
Seconds later, the five travellers found themselves standing in the ornate entry hall of Fortuna, the Potter ancestral home.
Five mouths dropped open, as their eyes took in all the details of the enormous marble-floored entry of the manor house. A wide staircase, covered in a burgundy and deep blue Persian runner, faced the double front doors. The walls were painted a type of white colour that Harry thought was referred to as cream. Wood mouldings in the same colour ran along each wall at about his shoulder height, and also along the edge where the walls met the ceiling. Marble surrounded the fireplace that sat against the wall on the left, close to the front doors.
Probably for Floo travel.
Double doors on both the left and right walls were closed but obviously led to rooms used for entertaining guests. Harry walked slowly towards the door on his left. Ginny followed and slipped her hand in his. He looked over and smiled, suddenly aware that his breathing had become shallower the closer he got to the double doors.
Harry put his hand on the door knob and turned, slightly surprised when he didn’t meet any resistance and the door opened smoothly with a minimal push. His muscles tightened, and he could feel Ginny waiting patiently for him to take the first step. He walked through the opening and within several steps into the room, Harry could feel wave after wave of emotions sweeping over him.
The boy sat on the nearest piece of furniture, a love seat covered in an off-white chintz with a green and blue floral design through it. Ginny sat next to him, holding his hand and lightly running her thumb over his knuckles.
Echoes of past lives there came to life for the boy as he sat in the living room. He felt — and somehow knew the emotions had come from previous family members of his — the joys and sorrows, the achievements and disappointments, but most of all the lives being lived in that house by people whose blood coursed through his veins, today, now, just this second.
Harry Potter finally felt he was part of something. More than just himself and vague images of his parents, he now knew he was part of a large family and belonged in the wizarding world, because he was surrounded by a place — a home — where those lives played out over decades that stretched back many centuries. But his reality stopped the entrancing imagines.
I don’t have a family.
They had been killed, robbing him of the bridge that connected him to his relatives, his history, and his heritage. He had been robbed of a life with his mum and dad. His reality was the magic-hating Dursleys, who lived in the beige, stifling conformity of Privet Drive.
And all of this was due to the decisions of one man, Albus Dumbledore. Harry’s world finally crashed around him. But instead of breaking down with it, Harry made a promise to himself.
I’m going to live. I’m not going to let someone else decide how I live my life.
Harry felt a warming energy flowing through his right hand and into his body. He snapped back to the present time and looked at his hand, smiling when he saw it in the grasp of the smaller, porcelain-skinned, lightly freckled hand of Ginny Weasley.
“Have you come back to us, Harry?” she asked quietly, more curiosity than concern showing on her face.
“Yeah,” he smiled. “I could feel my ancestors, their emotions. Gin, for the first time I feel like I’m part of the wizarding world, that I belong somewhere, that I’m part of the same world you’ve been showing me.” He looked at the young girl, all his defences down. “I wouldn’t have been able to sense the emotions here, if it hadn’t been for you and your family. Thank you,” he whispered.
The tears came unbidden to the young girl’s eyes. “Oh, Harry,” she choked out and threw her arms around the boy. He responded immediately and gently held her.
The whispered sounds reached Arthur and Molly Weasley as they examined the furnishings, artwork, and other decorations in the large room. They stopped and watched the scene develop from Harry being caught up in something to their daughter responding with her heart to whatever the boy had said.
“I don’t think they know what’s going on yet,” Molly whispered to her husband of many years.
“That’s what makes it so pure and innocent. I hope they can always retain that,” Arthur added.
“The poor boy has such a road ahead of him, Arthur.”
“I know, dear, but we’ll be with him.” Arthur assured his wife.
“Some of us more closely than others,” she said, gesturing with her eyes and moving them from the couple that still held each other closely to their youngest son, who looked at the young couple with a mixture of confusion and irritation.
Harry and Ginny broke their hug, and Harry asked, “Want to explore some more?”
“Nah. I’ll just get spoiled for real life. You go on. I’ll wait here,” Ginny replied.
Harry stared at the redheaded witch in disbelief. Ginny snorted and ducked her head down but couldn’t hold back her laughter. Harry soon joined her.
“Very funny, Weasley. Let’s go.” Harry stood up and extended a hand, helping Ginny up.
“Mum, Dad? We’re going to explore the rest of the house.”
Mrs Weasley replied, “Have fun, but be careful. Some of these items looked very old and fragile.”
“If something looks questionable, best not to touch it,” cautioned Mr Weasley. “I’m sure there’s nothing Dark here, but better safe than sorry.”
The two kids nodded and left the room, hand-in-hand, crossed the entry hall and entered the double doors on the opposite side.
“It’s an office where they discussed business and did the paperwork,” Harry said, without knowing how he knew.
The boy closed his eyes and the room’s history swept through him. A series of images moved through his mind like a kaleidoscope. Harry felt like he was looking through some type of family album, but as if he were there watching what had happened.
“You saw again?” Ginny asked quietly, once Harry’s eyes had opened.
“Yeah, mostly wizards sitting at the desk there, talking, arguing, reading and signing . . . I don’t know . . . contracts and agreements, I guess.” He smiled at Ginny. “Most of the men who sat behind the desk had messy black hair.”
“Your ancestors,” she whispered.
The boy nodded.
They quickly looked around the large office, sat on the brown leather sofa and chairs, and browsed through a few of the many bookshelves that lined the walls of the room. Ginny laughed loudly when Harry sat in the chair behind the massive mahogany desk, because only his neck and head showed above the desktop.
He grinned back and asked, “Next room?”
The two children continued along the right side of the entry hall until they came to a short recessed entry, about two metres deep, which served to hide the double doors from people entering either of the first two rooms. They opened the doors and walked into a massive library.
The room appeared to be carved out of mahogany. A good size rectangular table with two chairs on each of the longer sides dominated the centre of the room; a cut glass crystal chandelier hung over the middle of the table, the multi-faceted crystals softly reflecting light throughout the room. Soaring bookcases, tightly packed with books similar to those they had found in the first room of the Potter vault, filled every available space along the walls. Two seating arrangements, one in each corner of the far end of the room, featured a small sofa with two chairs facing it and large table between them. Each piece looked very comfortable. A very large Persian rug filled the remaining floor space, and its colours — burgundy, hunter green, deep blue, and soft gold — were repeated in the upholstery. A fireplace, framed by a soft gold-coloured stone, sat in the centre of the back wall, between the two sitting areas.
The two children wandered around the room, open-mouthed and staring at the furnishings and the books. After several silent minutes, Ginny squealed, and Harry had drawn his wand before he saw she was staring at an ancient-looking leather covered book.
“Harry, the title is Potter Philosophy,” she whispered.
Harry joined her and glanced at the pages of the book. “Each owner of the manor has written down his thoughts on the philosophies and attitudes that have passed down through the generations.” She gently, carefully leafed through the pages. “There must be over one-hundred pages.”
Their eyes locked. Finally Harry said what he was sure Ginny also was thinking, “This will tell me about my family, what they thought, how the acted, their code of conduct, as King Arthur would say . . .”
“It will help tell you who you are,” the young witch whispered.
Harry stared at the book, wanting nothing more than to devour it right then and there. He took a deep breath. “I’ll take it back with me. I want to read it now, but we’ll never see the other houses if I do.”
Ginny handed the book to Harry, who shrunk it and put it in his pocket. “Next room?” he asked.
An informal living room, sunroom, and a breakfast room stretched across the back of the house. The sunroom occupied the right corner of the house, and except for the two interior walls, was all windows. Likewise the back wall of the informal living room featured a series of French doors that opened onto a large brick veranda that ran the full width of the house. The view from the room looked like a painting, with meandering gardens and flagstone footpaths leading to verdant expanses of grass, broken by groves of trees. In the background, a dark green forest rolled over the foothills until both dissolved into shadows in the distance.
Ginny came up and bumped his shoulder with hers. “It’s breathtaking, isn’t it? You can see parts of a stream on the left side over there.” Ginny pointed. “See it?”
Harry could only nod his head, afraid the thoughts of his parents and perhaps growing up in the idyllic setting would cause his voice to crack.
Don’t think of that stuff. It doesn’t do any good. At least, Griphook told me about the houses. I may not have ever found out otherwise. Just enjoy the day.
“Did you notice how different the furniture is back here?” Harry asked.
“I think this is where the family lived most of the time,” Ginny replied. “The front probably was just used for entertaining and business.” She took his hand. “Let’s see what else is down here.”
At the opposite end of the sunroom, a casual eating and sitting area completed the informal area of the ground floor. As with the other two rooms, it had lots of windows that let in the light and provided glimpses of the scenery that seemed to extend forever.
“The front of the manor is really impressive, but I like it better back here,” Ginny said.
Harry nodded. “It’s like the front is for show, and back here is for living.” He smiled. “Bet the kitchen is next.”
They went through the door that was centred on the wall opposite the back of the house and entered a huge kitchen. Both kids stopped and stared.
This has got to be five times bigger than Aunt Petunia’s kitchen.
Harry’s eyes swept around the room, taking in the stove with ten burners on top and a double oven, a large sink, and a smaller one on an island, two refrigerators, and more cabinets and counter space than he had ever seen before. Plus, it had room for a big wood table that had ten chairs arranged around it.
“Big parties,” Ginny said. “You need a kitchen like this for big parties. Where does this go to?” She walked over to a door and opened it. Seconds later, she had disappeared. “It’s a giant pantry, I guess.” She emerged and went to the door directly across from it.
“Oh, there are stairs going down.” She looked hopefully at her friend.
“You can go if you want, but I’m going finish looking, then go upstairs. We still have three more houses to see.”
“Yeah, we could be here all day,” Ginny agreed.
“We can always come back,” Harry said.
“You know what I keep wondering?” she asked.
Harry grinned. “No idea.”
“Prat.” She grinned back.
“Yup. What do you wonder?”
“How is the house so clean? It’s spotless, like it was cleaned just before we arrived.”
Harry frowned. “You’re right. I hadn’t thought of that. Griphook may have had a crew come in and clean it up. He knew we would be visiting today. I’ll ask him.”
“Thanks. I’m curious. You’ll let me know?”
“Sure,” he said. “Want to go to the next room?”
“Yeah. It’s got to be the formal dining room.” She grabbed his hand, left the kitchen, and entered not the anticipated dining room but a long and not very wide room filled with floor and wall-mounted cabinets, like those in the kitchen, and a large sink. They shrugged their shoulders and continued into the next room.
As with everything else in the front section of the manor, the formal dining room was decorated to impress guests, with wainscoting, mouldings, and an expensive looking rug. But commanding Ginny and Harry’s attention were the pieces of furniture.
Highly polished walnut, featuring complementary inlaid designs, was used for the enormous dining table, sideboards, and cabinets that stood along the cream-coloured walls. A chandelier, similar to the one in the library, hung over the centre of the table.
Ginny grinned. “Big parties.”
Harry nodded his head, smiling back at her, and they exited through double doors set in an alcove like those that led into the library across the hall. They had now come full circle, finding themselves standing in the entrance hall, near the grand staircase that led to the first floor. With a shared glance, they raced up the stairs, bumping into each other several times in an attempt to gain a lead on the other.
An expansive landing greeted the children when they reached the top of the stairs. Sitting areas with a large sofa, two wing chairs, and several tables were located on either side of a wide hallway that led straight back from the stairs and ended in double doors. The two friends looked at each other.
“Gotta look in there first,” Harry said.
They raced to the double doors and pushed them open, then stopped and gawked. The master suite extended the length of the entire back of the house, with the en suite bathroom on the left side of the room. The biggest bed Harry had ever seen sat directly opposite the doors. The two kids stared at the bed, then turned to each other. In the next second, they had sprinted to the bed and began to bounce up and down on it like it was a trampoline. Laughing loudly, they bumped into each other and tried different tricks like landing on their bum or stomach. Harry attempted to do a flip in mid-air but landed with a thump on his back to Ginny’s great amusement. After several more minutes, their legs gave out, and they crashed to the bed, breathing heavily but still chuckling.
After catching their breath, the two children got up and examined the large walk-in closets, which were located on either side of the double doors. Ginny went into the closet on their right as they faced the double doors and immediately began oohing and ahhing.
“Harry, these are the most gorgeous robes and gowns I’ve ever seen.”
Harry walked through the other enormous closet, which evidently had been used by the Lord of the Manor, as evidenced by the robes, cloaks, slacks, shirts, and shoes Harry saw. He shook his head. Each item was immaculate, as if they had just been laundered. Harry walked out of the closet, trying not to think that some, maybe all, of the clothing had belonged to his dad or his granddad, who he knew nothing about.
The right side of the room was arranged as a sitting area and office space, with a small sofa, two chairs, tables and an ornate desk with a credenza behind it. Harry squeezed his eyes closed to keep from picturing his dad sitting at the desk, completing correspondence or paying bills, and his mum sitting on the sofa, reading a book, her legs curled underneath her.
A small hand found his and squeezed. “Thinking of them?” she asked softly.
All he could do was nod, again not trusting his voice or wanting to open up the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.
“Let’s check out the other rooms, then,” Ginny suggested.
They found six additional bedrooms on the floor. “Guest rooms,” Ginny advised him. Each was decorated in a differing colour scheme, but all had their own en suite bathroom.
“It’s hard to imagine all the people who must have lived here,” Harry said, shaking his head. “This place is huge.” He looked at the staircase that led up to the second floor. “Want to see what’s up there?”
“Of course. No telling what we’ll find.”
As soon as they reached the top of the stairs, they were confronted by a set of double doors several metres in front of them. Walls extended on both sides of the doors, then turned and ran down the sides of the floor towards the front of the house. The room in front of them looked like it duplicated the footprint of the master bedroom and the informal living area below that. They pushed the double doors open and walked in.
“It’s huge,” Ginny gasped.
Indeed the room extended for the entire width of the manor and the ceiling appeared even higher than those on the other floors. Despite the overwhelming proportions, what stood out was the starkness of almost two-thirds of the space, which sharply contrasted with the opulence and comfort of the furnishings and decorations on the other floors. The walls in this section of the room were a grey colour and looked like a rubbery type of concrete, as did the floor.
“Do you think it’s a training room?” Harry asked, thinking back to the Room of Requirement, when he blasted the dummies and when he and Professor McGonagall had trained there.
Ginny looked around again and even knelt down to feel the texture of the floor. “Could be.” Looking to her left, she said, “Let’s take a look at the finished part.”
Taking up about a third of the left side of the room looked like a mini-library. Floor mounted cabinets in a rustic blue-grey finish lined most of the wall space, with a long, rough-hewn wooden table dominating the middle area. The walls were the same type of wood as the cabinets, and a thick carpet covered the floor. A wall-mounted mirror, several chairs and tables finished the contents of the space.
Harry was drawn to the mirror but shrugged when all he saw was his reflection. I hoped it would be a special mirror, and I could see my family. Oh well . . .
Moving away from the mirror, he saw a small door, virtually hidden in a small alcove. Like the recessed entries to the library and dining room on the main floor, the door could not be seen until you were almost in front of it.
“Gin, look here.” She turned and a surprised expression emerged. “Let’s see where it goes.”
Harry tested the door knob and was surprised to find the door was locked. He thought, Alohomora, and the knob turned easily in his hand.
They entered a cramped space and stared at another staircase. This area contrasted sharply with the rest of the manor, since it was dust-covered and had numerous spider webs.
Harry waved his hand in a room-encompassing arc, while saying “Scourgify”.
“Great idea,” Ginny enthused, as the dust, cob webs, and spiders disappeared.
They quickly reached the top of the stairs and another locked door. Harry again cast the door opening spell. Glancing at each other, the two children took deep breaths, then stepped through as Harry pulled open the door.
“Oh, Harry, this is incredible.”
Both Harry and Ginny moved around the space soaking in the sights that seemed to extend forever.
“What a great idea to build a viewing deck on the top of the house,” Ginny said softly.
They moved around the ten metre square deck that was surrounded by wooden cross-hatched, waist-high railing, their fingers laced together, trying to commit the views in each direction to memory.
“This is gorgeous,” she whispered, turning and hugging her friend. She looked up at him. “You feel like you belong here, don’t you?”
Harry stared at the redhead. “How did you know that?”
Ginny shrugged as much as she could in the embrace. “I could feel it. It just seems right that you’re here.” A concerned look crossed her face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No! It’s okay.” He looked at Ginny until he received a reassuring look. “I do feel like it’s a part of me, and I’m part of this house.” He shook his head. “No. It’s more than that. It’s like I feel I’m part of something much bigger than myself — part of the Potter Family, how they lived their lives, what they looked liked and acted. I’ve never felt that way before.”
Ginny sighed. “It makes you wonder about Dumbledore’s decisions. He must have known about this property. He probably attended events here, maybe even knew your grandparents and their parents. They rescued you from Godric’s Hollow, so he knew about that house, too. It makes me wonder if you could have grown up here or at Godric’s Hollow.” She looked at the boy, her sad expression tinged with anger.
“Instead of growing up with the Dursleys and not knowing magic or anything about my family or even who I really was.”
Harry could feel the telltale heat beginning to build up and took a deep breath to stop it. “Gin, I really need to get off what could have been and just think about what can be done now.” She smiled. “It’s just hard not to think about what my life could have been.” He grinned at the girl.
“You’re right, Mr Potter, and I have a suggestion on something that can be done now.” He looked at her, waiting for her to continue. “We should go to the next house.”
“You’re right,” he agreed. “One more look, though. I bet we can see all of the grounds from here.”
“And the stream,” she added. They moved to the south side of the deck and easily found the stream, with its water sparkling in the late morning sun.
With simultaneous sighs, the two friends departed the observation deck. Harry cast door locking spells on both doors after exiting, and they made their way down to the first floor, stopping when they heard noises coming from the master suite.
“Blimey, look at all these robes. I can’t believe how much money these people had. This place is probably nicer than Malfoy Manor . . .”
Ron’s comments were cut off by his mum. “Ron, that’s not polite talk. We probably shouldn’t even be looking into the room without Harry’s approval.”
Ron snorted.
Ginny’s face blazed crimson. “I’m going to hit him with a Bat Bogey Hex. I can’t believe he said those things.”
“Ginny, please don’t. Let’s act like we just got to this floor and didn’t hear anything. I don’t want to make it worse and get in a fight or anything. Okay?”
Ginny stared at him for several moments. Finally her stony expression calmed. “Okay, but if he says anything else, I will do something.” She raised her head up in defiance.
“That’s okay, though we may have to flip to see who curses him first.”
Ginny laughed and they noisily walked into the suite.
Harry smiled at the three Weasleys. “I’m glad you’re looking around. Sorry to have gone off on our own.”
“Lad, you don’t mind that we’ve been going into the rooms and closets,” Mr Weasley pointedly looked at Ron, “and other places.”
“No, not at all. You’re all part of this, too. That’s why I wanted you guys to come.” Harry felt Ginny squeeze his hand.
“Have you seen enough?” Ginny asked. “We probably should go to the next house.”
“Let’s go, then,” Mrs Weasley replied. “Harry, I’d heard your father had grown up in a manor house, but I had no idea where it was or how grand.”
Mr Weasley looked closely at the boy. “I would imagine this has been a daunting experience for you.”
“I’m fine.” He grinned when he saw several sceptical reactions. “Really. At first, it was tough, you know, knowing . . . what could have been. But it’s okay, ‘cause now I know I’m part of a big family, not just myself and my parents when I was a baby.”
Harry briefly closed his eyes. Thank you, House, for letting me know about my family. He opened his eyes and smiled at the four people surrounding him.
Ginny again squeezed his hand, but he noticed Mrs Weasley rapidly blinking her eyes. “Should we go?”
They quickly returned to the entry hall. Harry pulled out the key chain and held out the second key — the one that would take them to the house his parents had lived in. He took a breath to steel himself against the emotions that already were emerging.
Checking that everyone was touching the second key, Harry said, “Potter residence,” and touched his wand to the key.
Seconds later, they arrived inside the house at Godric’s Hollow.
I thought the house was supposed to have been blasted apart. But it looks fine, just as clean as the manor house. Merlin, my body feels like it’s turned to stone.
Ron had moved from the small entry into the living room on the left. Ginny, Mr and Mrs Weasley all tried to keep a subtle eye on Harry, knowing the visit to this house more than any of the others held the potential of being traumatic for the young boy.
Harry finally coaxed his legs into moving, even though they and the rest of his body still felt numb. He walked into the living room, recognizing the room and everything in it, down the last detail. Ginny laced her fingers through his and searched his eyes when he looked at her.
“It’s exactly the same,” he whispered.
Both children turned in the direction of a gasp that followed his comment and saw Mrs Weasley blushing, then quickly turning away. She bustled into the kitchen as if summoned by the stove.
Harry walked through the room, touching the fabrics, sitting on the sofa and chairs, running his hand over the table tops.
“I don’t feel much coming from them.” He looked at Ginny in confusion. “I know I was here, with my parents, but there’s no life, no connection to the place. I don’t understand.”
“Harry,” Mr Weasley said gently, “you didn’t live here that long.” He walked over to the boy and knelt in front of him. “You lived at the manor house when you were born. It was only after your father’s parents . . . passed away that you moved into this house. You lived here no more than four or five months. I’m sorry I have to be the one to tell you that, lad.” The wizard placed a reassuring hand on Harry’s shoulder. The boy’s hand automatically moved to grasp the man’s.
“It’s okay, Mr Weasley. I already figured out from what Ragnok said that my grandparents were killed by Death Eaters. That’s probably why we moved so far away. Thanks for letting me know. That explains why I felt more comfortable at the big house.”
“Do you want to leave now, Harry? It would be perfectly understandable if you did,” Mr Weasley asked.
Harry considered the question for several moments. “No. I’d like to look around a bit. Then we can leave. Is that alright with you?”
“Of course, son.”
They headed towards the kitchen in the back of the house and found that it opened to a large combination eating area and sitting room on the right. Mrs Weasley, who had been sitting at the table, joined them. Continuing their clock-wise movement, they arrived at a den that occupied the front right corner of the house.
Returning to the entry hall, they went upstairs and found three bedrooms. One was obviously the master bedroom, and the next looked like a guest room. The Weasleys held back, waiting for Harry to enter what had been his nursery and the focal point of his nightmares.
He slowly walked into the room, half expecting to see the snake-like figure and red eyes of Voldemort. Harry exhaled when all he saw was a sky blue painted nursery, dominated by a wood crib that had a mobile with Golden Snitches and Quaffles hanging from it.
He turned to Ginny and Ron and pointed to the mobile. “Want to play Quidditch?”
Both stared at the boy for a second, then started laughing when it became obvious he wasn’t going to go into a trance or channel Voldemort or something else equally disgusting.
Ron peered at his roommate. “You’re not seeing what happened or having those feelings like you had at the manor house?”
“Ron!” Mrs Weasley shrieked, as she and Mr Weasley joined the three children in the nursery. “You shouldn’t ask Harry questions like that.”
Ron flared, then deflated, his neck and face burning crimson.
“It’s okay,” Harry said quietly. All four Weasleys stared at him. “I’m not feeling anything like I did at the first house.” Harry shrugged. “Maybe it’s because I’ve seen this one before . . . in my dreams.”
Mrs Weasley shuddered. “Harry, are you sure you’re okay?”
Harry nodded his head with conviction. “Yeah. It’s like this house was never really ours since we were here such a short time.” He looked at each of the Weasleys looking at him with concern. “It doesn’t feel like home. Let’s go to the next house.”
Harry pulled out the key ring and held out the third key. Four hands reached out. With a touch of his wand and the silent words ‘Potter residence,’ they were transported to the Lake District retreat.
The family feeling immediately swept over Harry. Four pairs of eyes again looked to him, wondering what he was feeling but not wanting to invade his privacy.
He smiled at his new family. “We spent time here — my parents and my other family members. The feelings are much stronger here.”
They moved into a huge living room that ran the full length of the rustic retreat’s left side. The primary impression was of wood, on the walls, floor, and even the vaulted ceiling, complete with thick beams. The furniture was scaled to fit the room, and all of it was overstuffed and comfortable looking, with some pieces covered in medium brown leather and others in hunter green or a softly burnished gold fabrics. An enormous river stone fireplace dominated the centre of the wall on the left side.
Molly looked around the room and held back a laugh. “At least, there aren’t any animal heads mounted on the walls.”
Everyone started laughing, because the retreat most closely resembled their impression of an old-time hunting lodge. Harry walked over to one of the two sofas that flanked the fireplace and faced each other. As soon as he sank into the cushions, scenes from years before cascaded through his mind.
Family gatherings, both in summer and winter, since outdoor scenes were clearly visible through the many picture windows in the great room.
One scene repeated itself several times, until Harry noticed a young boy within the larger group. The slender boy looked to be around ten or twelve years old, wore glasses, and had messy black hair. Harry’s first reaction was that he was looking at himself, but he quickly understood the impossibility of that. It’s my father. He paid even more attention after that.
James Potter walked over to two adults, who were standing by the sofa opposite to where Harry was currently seated. A smile lit his face, as did those on the face of . . . James’ parents. The scene froze as Harry looked at the two adults standing in front of his father. The man had the same unmanageable black hair, glasses, and slim build his son did.
Harry inhaled sharply, though his eyes remained closed. It’s my grandfather.
His eyes moved to his grandmother. Auburn hair — thick and lustrous — dominated his first impression. Just like mum. A second impression swept over the boy. The strength of spirit emanating from his grandmother was palpable, just like he felt whenever he pictured his mum.
Harry laughed to himself. I wonder if the Potter Philosophy says Potter men have to marry strong, red-haired witches.
Harry gazed at his grandparents, trying to memorize every detail of their appearance and the feelings flowing from them. Finally, the freeze-frame memory began to move again. His father moved first to his mum and hugged her, then shook his father’s hand. James continued grinning, as he held up something that Harry hadn’t seen before. A shiny, undoubtedly new, broomstick was clutched in his father’s hand. His grandparents returned their son’s wide smile.
That family memory faded and was immediately replaced by another. His father was now an adult, a young one, but definitely an adult. He was sitting on the same sofa Harry was on and was again smiling broadly. Harry followed the direction of his dad’s gaze and saw his mum radiantly smiling down at the dark-haired, squalling baby she held in her arms.
Merlin, that’s me. How old was I, less than six months? Harry looked more closely at the infant. Good, I’ve stopped crying. Oh, green eyes, the same colour as my mum’s. No scar . . .
The scenes stopped, and Harry became aware that his breathing had become shallow. Opening his eyes, he again saw the four Weasleys trying to give the impression of not watching him. A wide smile broke out on his face.
“I saw lots of family members, but mainly my grandparents.” Several gasps interrupted his description. “It’s okay. Really. My grandmother looked like my mum, and my grandfather looked like my dad . . . and me.”
Mrs Weasley said, “We met your grandparents once, and the resemblance was startling. Your parents looked like younger versions of them, even though your mum wasn’t related in any way to the family.”
“If you haven’t heard it already,” Mr Weasley added, “you will be told by people who knew them that you remarkably resemble your father, except for your eyes, which are your mum’s.”
Harry nodded. “I also saw my parents sitting on this sofa . . . my mum was holding me.”
He looked to his right — to where his mum had sat in the memory — and started slightly when he saw Ginny Weasley sitting in the exact spot. Their hands met halfway and intertwined.
Harry’s eyes moved from Ginny to her parents and brother. “They were really good memories. I think the one with my dad was at Christmas or his birthday, because he had a new broomstick in his hand and was thanking his parents. There’re lots of good feelings here.” He briefly closed his eyes again. “Thank you, Lake House.”
Molly Weasley exhaled and smiled at the small boy. “Did you want to see the rest of the house?”
“Definitely!”
The group moved toward the back of the room, taking in the view through the large window that must have been at least five metres wide. Through it Harry could see dense woods to the left and a lake about seventy or eighty metres from the back of the house. The grounds in between had been left in their natural state — or had returned to it — filled with grassy patches, small boulders, and scattered shrubs.
The land was uneven but generally level until about twenty metres before the lake shore, where it began to drop slightly to meet the water. The only intervention into the natural state of the setting was a dirt path that moved from the back deck of the house to the water’s edge. Harry felt an unmistakable pull.
“Do you mind if we go outside next?”
Ginny had pulled on his hand, before their parents smiled and waved them on their way. The two children burst through the door and raced down to the shore, with Ron following slowly. The lake was large, but Harry could see the entire shoreline from where they stood.
As his eyes moved anti-clockwise from his right, Harry took in the rocky outcroppings and groves of trees that followed the lake’s outline. Several coves broke the smooth symmetry of the shoreline and hills rolled down to the water along the far side of the lake. Above the azure water and dark greens of the forest, the cerulean sky seemed endless.
Ron looked around. “Do you own the lake, too?”
Both Harry and Ginny looked at the redhead. “I don’t know. Can you even own a lake? I guess Griphook could tell me.”
Ron shrugged and walked a bit down the shore and began skipping stones across the lake’s surface. Harry’s eyes followed his roommate, then returned to the lake and the young witch standing next to him.
Ginny smiled. “You feel comfortable here, don’t you?”
Harry nodded. “I think, maybe, my father spent a lot of time up here. Maybe my mum, too, once they got together. It feels right to be here, you know?”
“Yeah. It’s so beautiful and so peaceful. It’s nice to imagine your parents having fun up here.”
Harry smiled. “That’s it exactly.” His eyes swept around the lake, trying again to memorize all the details, so he could recall them at will. “Back inside?”
Ginny and Ron reluctantly nodded and the trio returned to the lodge. Adjacent to the living room was a large eating area, where they rejoined Mr and Mrs Weasley. The kitchen occupied the back corner of the house. Going down the right side of the house towards the front, they came to a large storage room, then quickly made their way to a comfy den at the front of the house.
Located upstairs were the expected bedrooms, including a master suite, four guest rooms, and a dormitory running the full width of the front of house and containing six beds and an open play area. No memories came to Harry, so they quickly returned to the entry hall and portkeyed to the Notting Hill townhouse.
The fourth property proved to be anti-climatic. As soon as they arrived at the brick row house, Harry could tell his parents had never been there.
“Nothing?” Ginny asked.
“Even less than at Godric’s Hollow,” Harry replied. “I can’t feel anything of my parents. I wonder if my grandparents were ever here.”
They quickly moved through each of the three levels. Mrs Weasley finally commented, “The decorating style is totally different here than in the other houses. Harry, do you think some more distant relatives owned this house?”
Harry thought for several moments. “That makes sense. This place isn’t like any of the others — located in the city, no land around it, the furniture is different — it’s almost like it belonged to some other family. Should we return to The Burrow?”
“If you’ve seen everything you want, Harry,” Mr Weasley said.
“Yeah, we should probably be getting back to school anyway. Griphook said all I had to do is touch the key with my wand and say return. I guess it doesn’t matter which key.”
Harry held out the first key, which was quickly grasped by the four Weasleys, thought ‘Return,’ and seconds later, they arrived in The Burrow’s sitting room.
“Wow! That was incredible, Harry. Thanks for taking us.” Ginny’s smile lit the room.
“Yes, thank you, dear. That was quite an experience,” Mrs Weasley said.
“Lad, I would imagine this has been a lot to take in. We’re always here if there’s anything you want to discuss.” Mr Weasley placed a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder.
Harry’s eyes moved from Mr Weasley to Mrs Weasley and finally to Ginny. “Thanks for coming with me. I feel pretty good right now. The memories at the manor and lake houses were really great. But I’ll let you know if I have any problems with them. I guess we should be going. It’s almost five o’clock.”
Mrs Weasley made a beeline towards Ron, who took a step back before she enveloped him in a hug. “Mum, gerroff me.”
Ginny had moved over to Harry, while that was going on and gently put her arms around her best friend. “I’m going to miss you again,” she whispered.
“Me, too,” Harry replied.
“I’ll write tonight, so Hedwig can bring it in the morning.”
“Great, and I’ll write back. We can see each other again soon.”
Ginny nodded and stepped back from the hug.
Mrs Weasley quickly moved over and pulled Harry close. “You behave yourself and do well in your classes, Harry.”
He couldn’t help but smile. “I will, Mrs Weasley.”
Mr Weasley finished saying something to Ron that Harry couldn’t hear and walked over to the smaller boy. “Have a good rest of the weekend, Harry.” The wizard pulled him into a one-armed hug.
When Mr Weasley released him, Harry turned to Ron, “Say ‘Room of Requirement Fireplace Floo.’ I’ll follow right after you.”
Ron nodded, threw a pinch of powder into the fire, stepped into the green flames, and repeated the destination. A second later, he disappeared.
Harry looked at the three remaining Weasleys and smiled widely. “It was great seeing you.”
Seconds later, he, too, was travelling through the Floo Network hoping that the Room of Requirement would be there, with the necessary fireplace and Floo connection. Harry could feel himself slowing down, so he prepared for the hoped for ejection. The small boy was propelled out of a fireplace, and he raised his arms for balance. Once his eyes adjusted, a big smile appeared on his face. The same small room surrounded him, and Ron stood no more than two metres away.
“Want to go back to the common room? Then we can go to dinner with the other first years.”
Ron just shrugged his shoulders, so Harry opened the door to leave.
“Mr Potter! Mr Weasley! Where have you been?”
Chapter 26: Crime and Punishment
Author's Notes: You'll find out very quickly who greeted Ron and Harry as they left the Room of Requirement. There were some very good guesses, by the way.
Thanks, as always, to the wonderful cwarbeck for her beta work.
“Hi Professor McGonagall,” Harry replied cheerfully despite the witch’s stern expression. “We visited the Potter houses today.”
The professor’s usually unflappable demeanour wasn’t strong enough to withstand the shocking response the young wizard had just provided. Her stern expression turned into one of sheer incredulity.
“The Potter houses?” she finally uttered.
Both boys vigorously nodded their heads. “All four,” Ron explained.
Harry named the specific properties. “Fortuna, Godric’s Hollow . . .” the professor gasped, “the Lake District retreat, and a townhouse in Notting Hill.” Harry stopped and looked with concern at this Head of House. “Are you okay, Professor?”
Both he and Ron walked towards Minerva McGonagall, whose breathing had become shallow and laboured. “Should we get the school nurse?” Harry asked quietly, extending his hand towards her shoulder, then abruptly pulling it back when he realized where they were.
“No. I’ll be alright. Thank you for your concern, though.” The professor looked around, suddenly aware of her surroundings. “Let’s go to my classroom. We have several issues to discuss, and this is not the proper place.”
The two young wizards nodded and followed the rapid footsteps of their professor. Arriving at the Transfiguration classroom, she told the boys to sit in the front row. The witch stood in front of them, once more the imposing professor.
“Explain, please, Mr Potter. Mr Weasley, fill in whenever you feel it is appropriate.” She briefly held each boy’s eyes in order to convey the serious nature of the discussion.
Harry began. “I found out that I had inherited four properties when I went to Gringotts before school started.”
He paused and quickly decided to mention only the houses and not the other things he learned during the visit with the goblins. Otherwise, he figured, the discussion could become way too complicated.
“We made plans to visit the houses with Ginny and Mr and Mrs Weasley, and I cleared it with the goblins, so the wards wouldn’t hurt them. Then, we went to The Burrow this morning and just got back from seeing the houses.”
The professor’s eyes had widened considerably while Harry spoke. “How did you get to The Burrow, then to each of the four houses, and finally back to Hogwarts?”
“Oh, it was easy,” Ron said. “We just went into that room and Floo’d from the fireplace.”
Minerva McGonagall’s eyes moved from the redhead to Harry. She arched an eyebrow.
Harry shrugged. “I just asked the room to provide a fireplace and Floo connection to The Burrow and told it we would return around five.”
Ron looked at his roommate like he had begun speaking a foreign language. “You asked the room?”
“That’s neither here nor there, Mr Weasley.” The professor returned her gaze to the smaller boy. “I thought you would have known better, Mr Potter.”
Harry couldn’t hide his surprise or the sting from his professor’s remark. “I thought it would be okay, Professor,” he replied in a voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.”
“We can discuss your decision later, Mr Potter.” Her voice contained enough warmth to stop the boy’s stomach from plummeting any further. “Please continue.”
“We arrived at The Burrow, then used the keys the goblins gave me to portkey to the houses.”
“The manor house was incredible,” Ron blurted.
“I’ve been there before,” the professor admitted. “Both the house and the grounds are lovely.” A curious expression suddenly appeared on her face. “What condition were the house and grounds in?”
“Perfect.” Harry smiled as images of Fortuna immediately came to his mind. “It was like it had been cleaned just before we got there. All the houses were like that. Same with the outside. Everything looked great.”
“I wonder . . .” Professor McGonagall said to herself, then shook her head. “Perhaps the bank goblins made arrangements since they knew when you would be visiting the houses.”
“That’s what I thought,” Harry said. “I could ask Griphook if you want me to.”
The professor waved her hand. “Oh, no. No need to do that. I was just curious.”
The professor’s demeanour returned to that of a stern disciplinarian. “Gentlemen, are you aware that students are not allowed off the Hogwarts grounds without permission?”
The boys’ gobsmacked expressions eliminated the need for them to explain.
“Apparently not.” McGonagall shook her head. “At least you did not knowingly go out and break the rule.” Her eyes softened. “Boys, you had the castle in an uproar. Mr Potter, you told Hermione Granger that you were going out flying. Is that not true?”
“Yes, Professor. I didn’t want anyone to know I had these houses. I get enough attention as it is, and I didn’t want them to have something else to talk about.” Harry’s voice became much softer. “I should have trusted Hermione.” Ron snorted. “I’m sorry, Professor.” The boy’s head descended towards his chest.
“Perhaps that would have been the better choice, Mr Potter. Miss Granger thought it would have been nice to watch you and Mr Weasley on the Nimbus. She panicked when she could not find either of you and asked Mr Weasley’s brothers if they knew where you had gone. Suffice it to say, the search grew rapidly from there, with the headmaster, Professor Lupin, most of Gryffindor, your friends in the other Houses, and myself. We even tried to firecall your parents, Mr Weasley.” The boy’s head jerked up. “Obviously, we were unsuccessful.”
“I should have told you.” Harry’s head remained bowed.
“Mr Potter, we all make better decisions with the advantage of hindsight.” She looked sternly at the two boys. “As long as you did not know leaving the grounds required permission, my primary concern is eliminated.” Both boys exhaled heavily. “That does not mean your activities will go unpunished. I will speak with the headmaster to determine what, if anything, is appropriate. Professor Dumbledore or I will let you know what our decision is quite soon, I would imagine.”
Harry fought the heavy feeling that he had disappointed his favourite adult at Hogwarts. When he looked at the professor, she appeared to be blurry. He blinked rapidly to absorb the moisture.
Despite the numb feeling throughout his body, Harry whispered, “I’m really sorry, Professor.” He swallowed heavily, trying to keep the flood of emotions under control.
“Yeah, I’m sorry, too,” Ron added quickly.
“Thank you, boys. You might be prepared for a rocky reception when you return to the common room. Your friends and Housemates spent a goodly portion of their Saturday looking for you. They may not be that happy when you return and they find out where you were.”
Harry looked at the professor and then Ron. “I really don’t want to tell anyone that we went to the houses. Could we just say we went to The Burrow instead?”
“Mr Potter, please consider the consequences of telling an untruth on top of not telling anyone where you were going. I think you know what path I would recommend.”
“I think I do know, Professor.” He looked at Ron. “We should tell them we visited my family’s houses with your parents and sister.” Ron nodded his head.
“That should be more than sufficient, Mr Potter. Now, no more stalling, gentlemen. Time to meet your friends. Besides, it is almost dinnertime. I do trust we will not have a meeting like this for quite some time.”
Both boys nodded energetically and got up from their chairs. “Try to have a quiet rest of the day, boys.”
Harry moved his hand slightly in her direction. She glanced at the boy’s hand, then down at hers, moving it slightly in acknowledgment. “We will, Professor,” Harry said. “Thanks for everything.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Ron chorused.
Seconds later, they left the classroom and hurried down the hallway.
“That wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be,” Ron crowed. “I thought we’d have detention for months. Half the school looking for us?”
Harry looked sharply at the lanky redhead. “Professor McGonagall still has to talk with Dumbledore. He may decide to punish us.”
Ron’s expression quickly changed from elation to anger. “You’re right. And it’s all because that bloody busybody, Hermione Granger. If she hadn’t stuck her nose in where it wasn’t wanted, we wouldn’t have had any problems. But no, she had to ask all around and even bring McGonagall into it. If she’d been Sorted into Ravenclaw like she should’ve been, none of this would have happened. Merlin, what if we end up having detention with Malfoy?”
Harry bit his tongue. He had learned early in his stay at The Burrow not to argue with Ron when he was wound up and on a tirade. He decided it would be more effective to say good things about Hermione once Ron had calmed down.
The two first year wizards stopped in front of the Fat Lady’s portrait. Harry looked at Ron. “We probably should thank everyone for looking for us, plus the people in the other Houses.” Ron gulped, then nodded his head. “Ready?”
They gave the password to the Fat Lady and entered the common room. The buzz of conversation stilled as heads began to turn in their direction. Soon, the whispers and pointing began. Harry squeezed his eyes closed to steel himself for the uncomfortable cross-examination.
When he opened them again, two actions divided his attention. To his left, Harry saw the three Weasley brothers get up from their respective tables and begin to walk towards him and Ron. But it was the second sight that caused his jaw to drop.
Seconds later, Hermione Granger skidded to a stop a millimetre from the wide-eyed boy and wrapped him in a huge hug. “I was so worried about you,” she whispered. “You’re okay? Nothing bad happened?”
Harry pulled back slightly. “We’re fine, Hermione.” He dropped his voice so only she could hear. “I’ll tell you everything later. Okay?”
Her eyes lit up. “Okay.”
Hermione stepped back. “Ron, you’re alright?”
The redhead glared at the young witch, but his brothers grabbed his attention before he could respond.
“More important than if you are alright, where were you two?” Percy demanded. The twins looked at the two younger boys with a mixture of curiosity, some anger, and even a touch of admiration.
Harry stepped forward. “It was my fault. I wanted to see my family’s houses. We went with your parents and Ginny.”
The room went silent.
The majority of students probably assumed they had gone to Godric’s Hollow and knew what it represented. The few who didn’t know learned immediately, as several hushed conversations started up right after Harry’s admission.
Percy and the twins deflated, their anger dissipating quickly. Percy said, but in a much softer voice. “Tell us next time you plan to do something like that.”
Both younger boys nodded, and the three older Weasley brothers returned to their seats. Ron walked over to Seamus and Dean and sat down at their table.
“C’mon, Hermione, let’s talk.”
They walked over to the table where Hermione had been sitting by herself, and Harry cast a Silencing Charm, using his wand and muttering Silencio. Hermione looked at him in surprise but soon sat down, as Harry had.
“I owe you an apology, Hermione.” He smiled as the brown-haired witch prepared to disagree. “Let me explain. I should have told you what we were doing instead of saying we were going flying.” He stared at the girl. “I won’t do that again, and I’m really sorry that you were so worried.”
Hermione’s mouth fell open, then she blinked rapidly. “When you weren’t at the stadium, I panicked. I just thought . . . maybe . . . something had happened.” Her voice grew softer. “I’m sorry, Harry.”
“You did the right thing.” Harry smiled at his friend. “It never would have happened if I had told you the truth.”
Harry proceeded to tell his friend about his meeting with the Gringotts goblins, while accompanied by Mr Weasley and Ginny, but only mentioned the four houses specifically. “Hermione, the only reason I found out they existed was due to the goblins. I don’t think Dumbledore would have told me.”
Hermione peered at the boy for several seconds. “You don’t trust him, do you?”
Harry thought about his friend’s question before replying. “I guess I don’t. Dumbledore’s hard to figure out. Most of the time, he doesn’t have anything to do with me, like when he left me with my relatives for ten years and never checked to see what was happening. Then he shows up and moves me to the Weasleys’ the same day. He never talked to me, just made the decisions and expected me to go along with them. You know?”
Hermione had been concentrating on the boy’s every word. “It’s like he wants to make the decisions affecting you, but not take the time to explain them or even to get to know you.”
Harry smiled. “That’s it exactly. I didn’t know I was a wizard for all that time, until he showed up on my birthday . . .”
“July thirty-first.” Hermione grinned at her friend.
Harry grinned back. “Then he tells me I can’t do wandless magic, even though it feels right for me. He either wants nothing to do with me or he gets too close. It’s kind of creepy. And I still can’t figure out how he is able to make these decisions for me. Didn’t my parents tell him what they wanted? Who gave him the right to do this?”
Hermione’s eyes took on a distant look as she pondered her friend’s questions. “Maybe the wizarding world has laws about kids who lost their parents. Your relatives couldn’t do anything for you in this world, so maybe a wizarding court appointed Professor Dumbledore.”
Harry thought about that for several moments. “Could be. I just wish I knew what my parents had wanted. I can’t believe they would have wanted me to live with my relatives. They had to have known how much they hated magic.”
Hermione said softly, “I hope you find out some day.”
“Thanks.” He looked around the room and noticed that many of the students were moving to the Portrait hole. “Want to go to dinner?”
“With a reckless rule-breaker? I don’t know.” She smiled at the boy.
“Very funny, Granger.” He smiled back, dispelled the Silencing Charm, and they followed the other Gryffindors out of the room.
As soon as Harry and Ron walked into the Great Hall, with Hermione and the other Gryffindor first years, several students from each of the other three Houses made a beeline to them and started asking questions all at once. Harry instinctively backed away from the pressing throng, but he quickly found his back pressed against the wall by the entrance doors.
Harry could feel himself shrinking inside, almost like the group was an appendage that could be used to punish him. Sweat beaded on his forehead and began to drip down his back, causing an itchy, prickling sensation that was multiplied by the group of students pressing in on him and Ron.
“Give them some room.” A strong, authoritative — and female — voice cut through the chatter, causing the students to stare wide-eyed at Hermione Granger.
Harry looked at Hermione in gratitude, while Ron glanced at her curiously. The students shuffled back a few steps and looked expectantly at the witch.
“Thank you, that’s much better.” She looked at Harry and Ron and nodded for them to explain what happened.
Harry looked at the students in the group and realized they weren’t just curious gossips. These are my friends. They were worried about us.
Padma, Su, and Anthony from Ravenclaw, the Hufflepuffs, Hannah and Susan, and Daphne, Tracey, and Blaise from Slytherin looked at Harry with both concern and relief showing on their faces. Hermione remained standing beside him.
Ron nudged his shoulder. When Harry looked at him, the redhead whispered, “Go ahead. You tell them.”
Harry turned and looked at his friends. “Thanks for helping look for us. We’re sorry we caused you to lose some of your weekend.” He took a deep breath. “I kind of made a mistake.. I didn’t know I needed permission to leave Hogwarts. I wanted to see my family’s houses,” an audible intake of air came from several of the students, “so Ron and his family — his parents and Ginny — were nice enough to go with me.” He tried to smile. “So, it wasn’t anything mysterious or exciting. I, uh, didn’t think it would cause such a reaction. Sorry.”
Harry looked around the group, and saw that Ron and Hermione were doing the same thing. No one seemed to be upset or angry. In fact, Harry thought, they all looked calm and understanding. Another wave of emotions broke over him, but these were warm and reassuring.
Harry looked briefly at each of the eight students from the other Houses. “It,” he took a deep breath, “it means a lot that you would . . . do this. Thanks.”
Hannah and Tracey were the first two students to move towards Harry, but they were quickly joined by the other six. They squeezed his hand or patted his shoulder, smiled, and whispered words of welcome and relief. Some did the same to Ron, then returned to their tables, aware that they had been watched by their fellow students.
Only Hermione Granger noticed that Albus Dumbledore had watched closely as the scene played out, an increasingly irritated expression on his face, until he returned his usual grandfatherly public appearance.
As dinner began to wind down, Albus Dumbledore walked over to the Gryffindor table. “Mr Potter, would you please come to my office once you are finished with dinner?”
“Yes, sir.”
Dumbledore smiled and looked at the students surrounding Harry. “Good. I will see you soon, then.”
As soon as the headmaster had left the hall, Hermione whispered, “Harry, he watched you the entire time the other students were around you and Ron.” She paused. “He looked very upset.” Her eyes took on a pleading look. “Be careful, Harry. It worries me that he didn’t ask Ron to come, too.” She reached out and squeezed his hand.
“Thanks, Hermione,” he whispered back. “I’ll try to keep my temper under control.” He grinned at his friend.
“Prat,” she said quietly.
“Yup.” He got up from the table and looked at the other first years. “Well, I guess I should go see the headmaster.”
Amid the well wishes from the Gryffindors, Harry walked out of the hall, trying to stretch his back muscles that suddenly seemed to have become very tight.
Again, Harry approached the gargoyle that guarded the stairs to the headmaster’s office. The boy stopped in front of the statue.
“I’m sorry to do this again, but the headmaster asked me to see him after dinner, but he didn’t give me the password. Oh, I’m Harry Potter, if you need to check if it’s okay to let me up.”
Harry could have sworn he saw the statue smile briefly, but it was so fleeting his imagination could have been playing tricks on him. Seconds later, the gargoyle moved to the side of the stairs, and with a flourish, waved the boy through.
“Thank you, gargoyle,” Harry called back, as he rode the moving stairs up to the office.
The usual early greeting was still missing, so Harry dropped the doorknocker against the metal plate and waited for the headmaster to open the door. Moments later, the smiling face of Albus Dumbledore greeted the first year student.
“Ah, there you are, Mr Potter. Please come in.” The wizard gestured grandly towards the interior of the circular office.
“Thank you, sir.”
As they sat in their respective chairs, Professor Dumbledore held out the candy dish and its usual lemon drops. Harry declined with a quick shake of his head.
“Well, Harry, it sounded like you had quite the adventure earlier today,” the headmaster said.
“We had a fun day. I’m sorry I didn’t tell anyone what we were doing, but neither of us knew we couldn’t leave the grounds. Oh, did you want to see Ron after me?”
“No. I’m sure I will obtain all the information I require by talking with you. But it does look like we will need to keep a closer eye on you, Harry,” Dumbledore said, with a teasing tone to his voice.
“Why is that, sir? We understand we can’t leave without permission. It won’t happen again.” Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“True. But there are so many areas in the wizarding world with which you are still unfamiliar.”
Harry felt the heat of his anger flare inside him. His forehead and back immediately broke out in sweat. I need to hold my temper. I can’t let him get to me.
When the boy finally spoke, his voice was very cold. “Maybe it would have been better if you had kept a closer eye on me while I was with the Dursleys. If I had learned about the wizarding world and myself back then, it wouldn’t be a concern now.”
Dumbledore smiled in his grandfatherly way. “Ah, Harry, it is easy with hindsight to make a statement like that.”
“No, sir, I could have told you that as soon as I learned to talk.” Harry knew his eyes were blazing, and he consciously tried to take deep breaths so he could calm down.
The wizard’s face momentarily conveyed both anger and surprise. Albus Dumbledore stared at his eleven-year old student, shocked by the boy’s direct statement, but even more, embarrassed by its truth. He quickly doused the flare of anger that a mere child would question his decisions, and worse, that the boy would be correct in his assessment.
The headmaster instead put on his grandfatherly smile. “You are more than likely correct, Harry. Many things in the past would be better if we could go back and change them. Unfortunately, we can’t, so let’s concentrate on our current situation.”
Just breathe deeply. Don’t let him get to you.
Harry looked at the headmaster as neutrally as he could, trying to hide his rising anger and stay as calm as he could. He inclined his head towards the headmaster.
“As I’m sure you are aware, Harry, we need to address your excursion. It gave us quite the scare . . .”
“It won’t happen again, Headmaster. I should have told someone, like Hermione, the twins, or Professor McGonagall.”
“Or requested permission from me.” Harry nodded his head. “I was surprised by the extent of response from the students. I would have expected Percy and the Weasley twins and perhaps a few of the other Gryffindor first years. But many of your Housemates helped to look for you. Even more startling was the response from the other Houses. A sizable number of first years from each House spent a great deal of time searching the castle and grounds.
“Harry, I have to ask you. What is your intent in seeking friendships outside your House?” The headmaster’s eyes had lost their customary twinkle.
“I don’t understand, sir. Is there a rule against talking with students from other Houses?”
Dumbledore’s expression showed annoyance at the question, then just as quickly became neutral. “No, of course not, Harry. I was just curious, since you seem to have a plan to befriend students in all the Houses. It is unusual to do so, especially for a first year student.”
Harry looked quizzically at the professor. “I don’t have any plan, sir. It’s just a combination of things. Daphne and Tracey came by when we were on the train, so Ron and I just wanted to say ‘hi’ once we got here. Susan Bones’ family is related to mine, and with the Ravenclaws, I wanted to see if Michael Corner was doing okay. The others started asking questions. That’s about it.”
The headmaster gazed at his student for several moments, before speaking without his usual warmth. “How did you know Susan Bones’ family was related to yours?”
“When I went to Gringotts Bank with Mr Weasley and Ginny before school started, Ragnok and Griphook told me.”
Dumbledore’s look of shock quickly became one of anger, but his voice remained surprisingly calm. “If you were just withdrawing funds from your School Vault, why would they talk with you? They normally do not involve themselves in mundane transactions like that.”
Harry shrugged. “We were waiting in line. Griphook took us back to an office. Ragnok joined us right after that. They told us about my family, the assets they were looking after, the houses we visited today, and then Griphook took us to my Family Vault. I learned a lot of things I hadn’t known existed before.”
Harry stopped suddenly at the headmaster’s reaction. He pushed the chair back half a metre, so he could escape more quickly should the headmaster start to do something. The boy could feel his insides crashing, just like they would when he knew his uncle was upset. He felt the same types of emotions coming from the headmaster.
What’s wrong with Dumbledore? Why is he upset that the goblins talked with me?
“Harry, I am very disappointed that Ragnok and Griphook decided to reveal this information to you.” The headmaster’s statement brought a chill to the office.
The boy’s head snapped back in surprise. “Why?”
“I feel it is inappropriate for the goblins to share such information with an eleven-year old, especially one who is already adjusting to a number of new situations,” Albus Dumbledore said in a calm, thoughtful voice that contradicted the blazing fire in his eyes.
Harry stared at the elderly wizard for several moments. “Maybe they thought that’s why they should tell me, that it would help to know my family’s history and the houses and other stuff.”
“Well, I do wish they had consulted with me before telling you.”
Harry couldn’t hide the curious feeling that came over him. “Were they supposed to get your approval first?”
“No. My formal authority only extends to educational matters, but they knew I had taken an interest in your well-being.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry, then. They were very interested in making sure the Family money was earning as much interest as possible, and they made sure that the paperwork on the properties was completed. I think they even had the houses cleaned before we visited. They wanted to make sure I was aware of everything that had come to me . . . when, you know . . . my parents died.”
Albus Dumbledore grimaced. “Had the goblins followed the approach I would have preferred, you would not have left the Hogwarts grounds and needlessly worried everyone. Furthermore, you would not now be burdened by the ownership of four houses or the other contents of your Family Vault. I have to insist, Harry, that you do not leave the school grounds again without receiving permission from me. I also think that banning you from playing Quidditch may be an appropriate punishment.”
The headmaster’s words tore through Harry’s heart like a knife, leaving him able only to stare at the old wizard. His mind locked, unable to think of anything other than Dumbledore’s comment to ban him from playing Quidditch. Finally, Harry regained his ability to speak.
“I don’t understand why you would ban me from playing Quidditch. We didn’t know we couldn’t leave the grounds. We didn’t go off on our own. Instead, we went with Mr and Mrs Weasley. I’ve apologized to everyone.” The boy looked at the man with bewildered eyes. “Why would you do this?”
“Harry, it underscores the need for me to be more involved in your life, especially as it pertains to Hogwarts. This is but one example. We will talk later. You may return to your common room.”
Harry knew he was being dismissed, yet he couldn’t move. His decision doesn’t make any sense. Why would he ban me from Quidditch? That’ll hurt everyone on the team and the entire House.
Harry stared at the elderly wizard, who dispassionately returned his gaze. He wants everyone to be mad at me. I can’t believe he would do something like that.
Harry got up from his chair, stared briefly at the headmaster, and left the office without another word. The small boy aimlessly wandered the hallways, his stomach feeling like acid had burned a huge hole in it, even though the rest of his body felt numb.
This punishment doesn’t make any sense.
Harry’s eyes widened, as the answer jolted his body.
Dumbledore got upset only after I told him what the goblins had told me. He didn’t want me to know my family history, about the Family Vault and everything in it, or about the houses.
The boy stopped abruptly, unaware of his surroundings.
Why wouldn’t he want me to know these things?
A familiar feeling returned to Harry Potter.
He’s hiding something from me. It’s easier to do that if I don’t know anything about my family. Merlin, did he keep me at the Dursleys’ for that reason? Not because of the blood wards, but because it would keep me out of the wizarding world?
I could have stayed with the Weasleys, probably with Neville or Susan Bones’ family or Daphne’s. I bet a lot of wizarding families would have taken me in. Professor Lupin could have kept me. We could have stayed at any of these houses. And money wasn’t a problem. There’s more money than I could ever spend in those vaults.
What’s Dumbledore up to?
When Harry finally looked up, he was shocked to see he was standing in front of the Fat Lady’s portrait.
“Well hello, dear, you’re looking lost again. I hope it’s not another problem with a witch.”
Harry blinked several times at the unexpected words, then focused on the lady in the painting. “Oh, no, that’s not the problem.” When the portrait swung open, he added, “Thank you.”
“Harry!”
Ron ran over to him, quickly followed by Hermione. Several other first years walked over but stopped several metres from the trio.
“What did Dumbledore say?” The words poured out of Ron’s mouth in his excitement.
Harry winced when he felt the knife turn again in his heart. “He banned me from playing Quidditch,” the small boy whispered.
Within seconds, everyone in the common room had heard the devastating news. The crowd around Harry grew rapidly.
“What!”
Every head in the room turned towards the source of the exclamation. Oliver Wood’s complexion quickly moved from a ghostly white to increasingly darker shades of crimson.
The students parted as the furious captain of the House Quidditch team marched towards his Seeker, the rest of the team struggling to keep up with him.
“Team meeting. Now,” he barked. Looking around, he determined that the sofa and chairs in front of the fireplace would meet his needs. “Over there,” he commanded, pointing in that direction.
The several students who were sitting there got up and moved without a word.
The team, plus Ron and Hermione, followed the captain. When they all sat down, Wood looked at the two non-playing first years with both curiosity and irritation.
“I’d like them to stay, Oliver,” Harry said quietly.
“Oh, uh, sure.” He shook his head. “What’s this about you being banned from Quidditch? We haven’t even practiced yet. Potter, I never had you pegged as a trouble-maker.”
The explosion of protests almost knocked the Keeper off his chair. When the noise subsided, Harry looked around.
“You all know that Ron and I left the school grounds today.” Everyone nodded. “We didn’t know we couldn’t do that.” Harry shrugged his shoulders. “Dumbledore called me into his office and told me my punishment was being banned from Quidditch.”
Harry’s explanation was met by eight shocked sets of eyes.
“What did he say about me?” Ron asked in an unusually small voice.
“He said he only needed to talk with me. You’re okay.”
Ron looked at Harry as if he couldn’t believe him. “That’s not fair, Harry. We both left the grounds.” Ron shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“For once, our youngest brother shows he has a brain.” Fred ignored Ron’s frown.
“The punishment doesn’t fit what you did,” George said. “And why would you get such a huge punishment, and Ron gets nothing? Did anything else come up with Dumbledore?”
Harry shook his head. I can’t tell them about the houses, the Family Vault, and all the other stuff. “He was just really upset that I hadn’t checked with anyone.”
“Did he give you the impression you were taking advantage of your fame?” Hermione asked quietly.
All eyes quickly turned to her, but Ron was the first to speak. “What kind of question is that? Who invited you anyway?” Ron’s face had quickly turned red.
Hermione reacted to Ron’s questions with both defiance and hurt feelings. Ron continued to glare at her.
“I invited her, Ron,” Harry answered quietly but with surprising strength. The small boy’s eyes moved to his bushy-haired friend. “That is a good question, Hermione. The answer is no. Dumbledore didn’t mention anything like that. I would have understood better if he had. Something else was bothering him.”
Wood had started to shift uncomfortably in his chair during the exchanges among the three first years. “I’m going to go to Professor McGonagall. She’ll straighten this out.” He looked at Harry. “You really did a Wronski from two-hundred metres up?”
Harry shrugged, then nodded his head. Wood got up with fire in his eyes. “We can’t lose you.” He stalked towards the Portrait hole.
All the others, including Ron, returned to where they had been sitting before the announcement. Hermione moved over to the sofa and sat next to Harry.
“There’s more to it, isn’t there?” she whispered.
Harry smiled and cast a Silencing spell around them. “Yes. Dumbledore became upset when he learned that the goblins had told me about my family history, my inheritance, and other things.” Hermione leaned towards her friend, her eyes intently focused. “He said he wished they hadn’t told me about those things; that it was too much for an eleven-year old.”
“Did you feel overwhelmed when you were told?” Hermione asked.
“No.” Harry shook his head at the memory. “I felt angry that this information had been kept from me. If Griphook hadn’t taken me out of the line, I still wouldn’t know. What I don’t understand is why Dumbledore cares about this and why it upset him so much. The punishment doesn’t fit what we did.”
Hermione’s concentration deepened. Finally, she said, “If he’d punished both of you — and with something more reasonable — no one would have said anything. But this is just about you, not Ron.” She paused for several moments. “So it’s like Professor Dumbledore is trying to teach you a lesson. Does that sound right?”
Harry thought about Hermione’s comments. “You’re right. It’s like he wants to put me in a box.” Hermione nodded. “Oh, he did mention something else. He asked what my intentions were in trying to make friends outside of Gryffindor. It really bothered him for some reason.”
Hermione looked perplexed. “You would think he would encourage inter-House friendships.” The young witch shook her head. “I’ll have to think about that one.” She looked sharply at Harry. “They may be related. If I can find a common theme between them, we might have an answer.”
Harry smiled again at his friend. “That’s why I wanted you to join us.” He hesitated, then ploughed on. “I’m really sorry Ron is treating you the way he is. I don’t understand it.”
Hermione visibly deflated. “I’m used to it. That’s how I was treated in school. Thanks, though, for everything you’re doing.”
“He’ll come around — sooner or later.”
Harry cancelled the Silencing spell, and seconds later, both he and Hermione turned towards the Portrait hole.
“Mr Potter, I wish to speak with you.”
The normally tightly controlled Professor Minerva McGonagall marched towards them at such a surprising speed Wood had to trot to keep up. The professor’s expression could only be described as outraged.
“Miss Granger, if we may have some privacy?” the professor asked, in way of a command.
Hermione got up, but Harry quickly asked, “Can she stay? She knows most of what happened and has some good ideas.”
McGonagall’s eyes shifted several times between the two first years. “Yes, Miss Granger may remain, if you want her to.”
Harry turned to Hermione. “Okay?”
She smiled and whispered, “Thank you, Harry.” The young witch sat down on the sofa next to her friend.
The professor looked around at the furniture, shook her head, conjured a straight-backed wooden chair, and sat down. “Thank you, Wood. I will speak with Mr Potter and let you know what, if anything, I will do.”
Wood started to say something, reconsidered, and walked back to the table he had been sitting at previously.
The witch cast a Silencing spell. “Miss Granger, I have said this to Mr Potter already, so this is for your benefit. On rare occasions, I feel it is beneficial to have conversations with certain students that go outside the normal range of student-professor discourse. This is one of those times. I feel I can do that with you and trust that you will not cause me disappointment in making this decision.” The professor’s eyes pierced the young witch’s.
“Thank you, Professor McGonagall. You can trust me.”
The professor’s expression softened long enough for the girl to relax a bit, and her first question was asked in a soft voice. “Please tell me everything that happened, Harry. Don’t leave anything out.”
Ten minutes later, Harry completed the recitation of his visit with the headmaster. The professor sat quietly, a look of concentration dominated her face, but it also was mixed with anger.
“The punishment does not make sense in light of everything you have said. You and Mr Weasley made a dumb mistake,” Harry briefly closed his eyes and nodded, “but it could hardly be considered a serious one. It also was well within my jurisdiction to determine what, if anything, should be done. As you know, I had decided not to punish you and Mr Weasley this time.”
“Professor?” Hermione’s voice almost squeaked. “May I express an opinion?”
McGonagall’s curious look quickly softened. “Yes, please do, Hermione.”
The young witch smiled at her professor. “Could the headmaster be . . . jealous of Harry?”
Harry gawked at his friend, but the professor seriously considered her idea.
“I hadn’t thought of the headmaster’s reactions in that context, but now that you have suggested the possibility . . . there is a certain consistency that could be explained in that manner. Excellent thinking, Hermione. Five points to Gryffindor.”
The girl beamed at the compliments and the points she had won for her House.
“I will reiterate, though I am sure, it is not needed. You will be Miss Granger the next time we speak, and you will be treated the same as any other student. I trust that will not be an issue.” The smallest of smiles briefly graced the professor’s lips.
“It will not be an issue, Professor.” Despite the serious tone of her answer, Hermione could not hold back her smile.
“Harry, I will speak with the headmaster at my earliest opportunity and will let you know of any changes that may result.” Her voice softened. “Try not to let it get you down.” The witch stood up, cancelled the conjured wooden chair and Silencing spell. “Good night, Miss Granger. Mr Potter, please walk with me to the Portrait hole.”
Harry tried to hold back his surprise but got up quickly and accompanied the now stern-looking witch outside the common room.
“I have a question I didn’t think appropriate to ask in front of Miss Granger. When you and I visited Diagon Alley during the summer, did the goblin that took us to your vault suggest you meet again?”
Harry looked at his professor in amazement. “Yes! Griphook said they had a lot to discuss with me, but he didn’t think then was the time to talk. I went back when the Weasleys went to buy their school supplies. I asked Mr Weasley and Ginny if they would go with me. That’s when Griphook saw us and pulled us into the office.”
The professor cocked her head to one side. “You trust Mr Weasley and Ginny.”
Harry immediately nodded his head. “Yes.”
“Thank you for answering my questions. All of the information you provided will be very helpful when I ask Professor Dumbledore to reconsider his decision. Good night, Harry.”
“Good night, Professor. Thanks for helping out.”
As Minerva McGonagall walked back to her quarters, two very different thoughts occupied her. The first was positive and reflected her growing opinion that there were several very special students in the first year class. The second had become an increasing concern and had to do with her friend and mentor. Could his behaviour be explained by jealousy of an eleven-year old boy, whose destiny could eclipse even that of the esteemed headmaster?
When Harry returned to the common room, he saw the four Weasley boys surrounding Hermione.
As he approached the group, Harry heard Percy saying, “While I don’t condone rule breaking under any circumstances, the fact remains that this rule was not communicated to either Ron or Harry. It could be argued they did nothing wrong. I don’t understand the headmaster’s reaction or the level of punishment. I do hope that Professor McGonagall can straighten this out.”
“Thanks, Percy,” Harry said as he sat down next to Hermione.
“Harry,” George said. “We’re sending a letter to Mum and Dad about your punishment. They need to know what’s going on.”
Harry winced, then mumbled, “I don’t want to make a big deal about this.”
Several voices responded immediately. Fred, Percy, and Hermione stopped in mid-sentence and looked at each other. The two younger students deferred to the prefect.
“Harry, it is a big deal, to use your term,” Percy said quietly. “Mum and Dad need to know what is happening, especially since none of us think the headmaster is being fair. Perhaps Professor Dumbledore is not comfortable sharing something with you that he would say to our parents, which would explain his actions. Regardless, banning you from the Quidditch team is something they need to know.” Percy’s expression softened. “Don’t worry about their reaction. I think they’ll understand you didn’t knowingly do anything wrong. We’ll send Hermes tonight. I would imagine they would respond tomorrow. Perhaps even as early as tomorrow morning, since I will instruct Hermes to deliver the letter immediately and not wait for the morning.”
Hermione had been nodding her head in agreement with Percy’s comments. “He’s right, Harry. Mr and Mrs Weasley would want to know. They probably would be hurt if this information was withheld from them.”
Percy and the twins nodded, but Ron scowled at the witch. Just as he was about to speak, Percy said, “I will write the letter and send it.” He looked at his brothers, who all nodded their agreement. “Try not to worry about this, Harry. Professor McGonagall and our parents may be able to help.” Percy nodded his head and walked to a table that held several stacks of books, along with parchment and an assortment of ink and quills.
As soon as Harry Potter walked into the Great Hall the next morning, his friends from the other Houses immediately surrounded him, patting him on the shoulder or back, and whispering their opinions of Professor Dumbledore’s decision.
Harry had to take several deep breaths to overcome his surprise at the reception he had received. “How did you guys find out?”
Daphne smiled and said, “We haf our vays,” in a fake Russian accent, which elicited laughs from the rest of the group.
After the students had expressed their condolences and outrage over the decision, they glared at the headmaster as they returned to their respective tables.
Minutes after Harry and Ron sat down and had started to eat breakfast, the morning owl mail arrived. Hedwig landed on Harry’s outstretched arm and offered her leg, with the anticipated letter from Ginny. Harry placed the envelope in an inside pocket of his robes, offered some sausage and toast to Hedwig, then watched in amazement as Hermes flew directly to the headmaster.
He could see many other students watching in shock as the owl landed in front of Albus Dumbledore, something that happened rarely during the morning deliveries. The professor looked curiously at the owl, finally untying one of the two envelopes the bird was carrying. As soon as the first letter was delivered, Hermes flew to Percy and stuck out the leg with the remaining letter.
Percy smiled, while untying the letter, and read it quickly. Without a word, he handed the letter to Fred, who read it with George. Nodding their heads simultaneously, Fred passed it to Ron, who was seated closer to the twins. Ron held the letter between him and Harry, so they both could read it.
Dear boys,
Thank you for letting us know what happened after Ron and Harry left us yesterday afternoon. Suffice it to say, we are very interested in Professor Dumbledore’s decision, especially since they spent the day with us.
We will try to meet with the professor today in order to find out what his thinking was regarding this matter. We would imagine the results of that conversation will be shared with you, either by us or by Professor Dumbledore.
In the meantime, please make sure all of you stay out of trouble and that your homework is caught up.
Love,
Mum and Dad
Minerva McGonagall knew better than to voice her disagreement with Albus Dumbledore just after he had finished an unpleasant confrontation. For that reason, she had decided to wait until the next morning to broach the subject and try to discern what had led the headmaster to his bewildering and unpopular decision.
Now, having seen the Weasleys’ owl deliver a message to the headmaster and the looks of disdain from Harry Potter’s friends, Minerva thought Albus might be more open to a reasonably presented alternative. She took a pinch of Floo powder and threw it in the fire.
“Headmaster’s office.”
Five minutes later, she conjured her usual wooden chair and declined the headmaster’s offer of a lemon drop.
“Et tu, Minerva?”
Dumbledore’s opening comment was so unexpected, the witch laughed before she could rein in her reaction. As she calmed down, Minerva did note that the headmaster’s eyes showed their usual level of liveliness.
Still smiling, she said, “I do not believe in knives in the back, Albus.” She sat up even straighter than usual. “But I do strongly believe in discussing situations where I think a questionable decision may have been made.” Dumbledore gestured for her to continue. “I — and apparently everyone else in school — feel the punishment does not fit what the boys did. Notice, Albus, I said ‘boys,’ not the singular. By focusing only on Harry and levying such an extreme punishment, you have brought unneeded attention to yourself and further damaged any chance you had to establish a positive relationship with the boy.
“The primary question has to be, why, Albus?”
Albus Dumbledore gathered his considerable magical powers and briefly considered showing his deputy why he was considered the strongest wizard alive. But he hesitated just long enough to consider that his long-time friend and colleague had not attacked him but was, instead, truly interested in the reasons behind his actions.
In an instant, the headmaster knew he had reached a flashpoint in his relationship with Minerva McGonagall and also in the withering relationship, if it could even be called that, with Harry Potter. The wizard knew there was only one course to take.
“As to your question, my dear Minerva, I don’t know why I reacted the way I did with young Harry.”
He sighed heavily and removed his half-moon glasses, pausing to rub the bridge of his nose.
“It seems every time I meet with the boy I do or say things that I immediately question. In all honesty, I knew I had made another mistake as soon as I told Harry he was banned from playing Quidditch. Even now, I cannot provide a valid reason for my doing so.”
Minerva’s voice softened. “May I make two suggestions, Albus?” He nodded immediately. “First, rescind the ban. If we decide we need to do anything, we can schedule a detention for both boys with me. I can use that time for one of Harry’s wandless lessons and incorporate Mr Weasley into the training session.”
“That is an excellent suggestion, Minerva. Do you think it will be well received by the two boys and their friends?”
“I think so. It addresses the two major complaints — that the punishment did not fit the so called crime and that Harry was penalized and not Ron.”
“Good. Please do what needs to be done to make the changes,” the headmaster said. “You had a second suggestion?”
“Yes.” Minerva paused, trying desperately to word the concern in a way that would not hurt or anger her friend. “You said you do not know why you have acted the way you have towards Harry. I may — no, I do have — a theory you should consider. It will startle you, Albus, so I am asking you not to reject it out of hand.”
The headmaster’s eyes briefly turned cold, but he forced himself to take several deep breaths to calm himself. “Go on, Minerva.”
“I would like you to consider the possibility,” she closed her eyes briefly, then locked them on her mentor’s blue eyes, “that you are jealous of Harry.”
The headmaster flared as expected. He shot to his feet, the anger rolling off him, and paced the entire length of his office. By the third tour, his pace had slowed considerably and his expression had become pensive. Finally, he stopped next to his large mahogany desk, deep in thought.
“There may be more truth in your assessment than I would like to believe. It would explain some of my more irrational acts and statements.” He turned to his colleague. “I’m curious how you arrived at that conclusion.”
Minerva McGonagall smiled. “The conclusion was not mine. Hermione Granger suggested the possibility after participating in a conversation between Mr Potter and me. She, of course, had Harry’s permission.”
Albus smiled at his deputy. “I hope you gave her some House points.” He began to laugh. “Didn’t I tell you those two would make quite the pair if they ever became friends?”
“Yes, you did. They seem to have made remarkable strides in just a week.”
“Minerva, I will think long and hard about Miss Granger’s theory. Thank you for having the courage to confront me with it. It appears we may have some special students in this class.”
“Yes, we do, Albus. I will convey the revised punishment to Mr Weasley and Mr Potter. Is there anything else this morning?”
“Would you like to stay and protect me from Molly Weasley? They will Floo here in about ten more minutes.”
The two professors shared a smile. “I wouldn’t deny her the pleasure, Albus.” With a short laugh, Minerva McGonagall left the headmaster’s office and headed for the Gryffindor common room.
The professor found Ron and Harry playing chess in the common room and led the two first years outside the Portrait hole, so they would have a semblance of privacy.
“I have just finished speaking with the headmaster. He agreed that he missed the mark in his decision. Mr Weasley, the new punishment is good news for Mr Potter but less so for you. Mr Potter, you are no longer banned from playing Quidditch.” Both boys ‘whooped,’ and Ron pounded Harry on his back, sending the smaller boy lurching forward several steps. “However, both of you will serve detention with me.” The witch lowered her voice. “This is not to be broadcast, gentlemen, but the detention is nothing more than a wandless lesson for Mr Potter, in which you can participate, Mr Weasley.”
Harry smiled at his favourite professor. “Thank you. I felt horrible, like I had let everyone down.”
Ron added, “I really didn’t like Harry receiving all the blame and punishment. When do you want to meet?”
“Let me check my schedule. I’ll get word to you by tomorrow. Have a good day, gentlemen.”
Professor McGonagall had moved only a short distance down the corridor when she heard a loud cheer rise from the Gryffindor common room. Minerva McGonagall permitted herself a small smile and continued walking, wondering how the headmaster was doing with Molly and Arthur Weasley.
“Albus Dumbledore! I can’t imagine what came over you! Banning Harry from Quidditch! You know as well as I do how much that boy loves to fly. Have you seen him? He’s a natural and already as good as our Charlie. Besides, he didn’t break any rules he knew about. For Merlin’s sake, Albus, they went with us. They weren’t off on some lark. And why did you punish Harry and not Ron?”
Molly Weasley finally stopped for a breath of air, but she continued to glare at the headmaster, her fists planted on her hips.
Albus Dumbledore had held back his smile as long as he could. When Molly stopped her harangue, he relaxed and let it go.
“Why on earth are you smiling at me?” shrieked the redheaded witch. “This is serious business, Albus.”
“Molly,” he turned to the witch’s husband, “Arthur, by this time, Professor McGonagall already has conveyed to Ron and Harry my apologies for an extremely poor decision. The ban has been rescinded and replaced by a detention that is nothing more than a lesson for Harry in wandless magic, in which Ron will participate.” The wizard smiled broadly. “I thought it best not to interrupt you, Molly. Please forgive me.”
Both Weasley parents considered the headmaster’s startling admission. Molly responded first. “Well, yes, I’m glad to hear you came to your senses, Albus.” Her eyes regained some of the fire they had just held. “You could have told us that news before I got started.”
Molly Weasley tried to convey an irritated expression, but it came out more like a sheepish smile.
“We are glad to hear the ban has been lifted,” Mr Weasley exhaled heavily, “but we all know this was just one decision that is part of a pattern and has resulted in Harry not developing the type of relationship with you that we all hoped he would.”
“Alas, you are right, Arthur. This is only the first step of many that I must take to have any hope of building that type of relationship with Harry. You can imagine Minerva had some excellent suggestions for me to consider. One, in fact, stands out due to its simplicity and its relevance to most, if not all, of the actions I have taken in regard to the boy. With one exception, that is, my decision to move him to your loving care. I cannot express how grateful I am for the guidance and support you and your family have provided Harry.”
Molly sniffles could easily be heard, because Arthur stared at the headmaster, slack-jawed and mute at the wizard’s admissions.
Arthur quickly regained use of his faculties. “You’re welcome, Albus. It has been a great pleasure getting to know Harry. Frankly, it has been easy to respond positively, because we have found him to be a wonderful young man, in spite of the situation he came from.”
Arthur Weasley stared at the wizard he had respected more than any other. “Trust is understandably a huge issue with the boy. Albus, it hurts me to say this, but your actions have caused Harry to not trust you.”
Albus Dumbledore sighed and nodded his head, while Arthur took a deep breath and ploughed on.
“Probably due to the environment he grew up in, Harry is very sensitive to his surroundings and the people around him. When you are considering what Minerva suggested, please also consider that Harry feels you have not been truthful with him, that you are withholding information, and he sees you as the cause of all his problems. Lastly, using Legilimency on him was perhaps the worst action you could have taken. To Harry, it would have been akin to the treatment he received at the Dursleys’. I’m sorry to bring these concerns to your attention, but if you are serious about wanting to establish a positive relationship with Harry, then you have to be aware of what has contributed to his feelings about you.”
“No apology is needed, Arthur, except from me to you. I do, very much, want to establish a positive relationship with the boy. I realize that it will be a gradual process in which I must prove myself, by both understanding and eliminating the issues that caused me to make these poor decisions, and, by doing so, earn Harry’s trust.”
Molly had been listening closely to the conversation between her husband and Albus Dumbledore. “Albus, during the time Harry spent with us, we learned he really is two entirely different boys. While he is making great progress, Harry still reverts to the protective personality where he is shy, quiet, and quick to accept blame. But inside — the one we were seeing more often as the month progressed — is the real boy, who combines Lily’s intelligence with the aggressiveness and creativity of his father. He can learn so much from you, Albus, if you eliminate the fences you’ve built between the two of you.”
The headmaster smiled. “It’s telling that you mentioned Harry’s intelligence. Minerva and I discussed that topic just before you arrived. There is a first year witch in Gryffindor that we feel will help bring out that side of Harry. Hermione Granger, like Harry’s mother, is Muggle-born, yet she seems to have an advanced academic grasp of magic, much as Lily did. She and Harry appear to have developed a friendship, despite a somewhat rocky beginning.”
Molly laughed. “Ginny shared the contents of several letters Harry has written to her.” The headmaster’s eyebrows arched. “The early letters referred to this Hermione as ‘the rude girl.’ I think she came on a bit strong on the train and upon first arriving at Hogwarts. More recently, Harry seems to be seeing her in a more positive light.”
Albus smiled. “That is a friendship we think will be beneficial to both of our young students.” He paused and his smiled faded. “Harry is doing something somewhat unusual. Frankly, it has bothered me, because it is similar to what another highly intelligent, magically powerful student did half a century ago. That earlier boy very carefully cultivated friendships with selected people outside his House, Slytherin, in his case. That boy’s name was Tom Riddle, or as we know him today, Lord Voldemort.”
Molly gasped, while Arthur gaped at the headmaster.
“What is Harry doing that reminds you of . . . him?” Arthur asked.
“Harry appears to be making a concerted effort to establish friendships with selected students outside of Gryffindor. The parallels to Voldemort bother me greatly.”
Arthur Weasley started laughing loudly, causing his wife to look at him with concern. Finally, he recovered.
“I suggested to Harry that he do that.” Molly Weasley and Albus Dumbledore stared at the mild-mannered wizard. Seeing their incredulous expressions, Arthur turned serious. “First, I thought it would help Harry overcome his shyness if he were assigned a project to meet some of the new students. Second, the boy wondered about the House system, where students with similar qualities are put together. So, I encouraged him to look for people he liked, regardless which House they were in.” Arthur laughed again. “I guess he’s been successful.”
By this time, Albus was smiling widely and Molly had relaxed. “Arthur,” the headmaster said. “That illustrates perfectly what I have been doing. I equated Harry’s actions to those of Tom Riddle. The circumstances were the same, but the boys in question certainly were not. I failed to discern that. Now, with your explanation, we see it is you I should have equated to Voldemort.”
Arthur and Molly’s eyes locked in horror on the face of Albus Dumbledore. Seconds later, they joined him in laughing uproariously at the thought of Arthur Weasley being compared to Lord Voldemort. Minutes passed before they finally calmed down.
“Albus Dumbledore, don’t you ever do that again,” Molly Weasley chided, but with a smile on her face. “I thought I was going to have apoplexy.”
“Sorry, Molly. I couldn’t resist.” The headmaster looked at his long-time friends. “I’m so glad we were able to have this talk, even if it began under less than positive circumstances.” He hesitated briefly. “May I ask a favour?”
“Of course, Albus,” they answered simultaneously.
“I would prefer that my actions take the place of all but a few words. Harry and all of Gryffindor, by now, know the ban has been rescinded. I would appreciate it if you would limit the conversations you will have with Harry or the boys to that topic. Harry does not need to hear more words about my good intentions, when all he has seen are the results of my poor decisions. He needs to see the appropriate actions from me, not hear more words.”
Arthur and Molly listened intently to the headmaster’s request. When he finished, they looked at each other for several moments. “That is a good idea,” Arthur said. “What’s the Muggle saying? ‘Actions speak louder than words?’”
“That’s it exactly, Arthur. Thank you both.”
Towards the end of Monday’s Potions class, Ron turned to Harry and whispered, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Snape’s even better today than he was last lesson. I don’t know what happened to change him, but it’s working. Now, if we can only get Granger to stop waving her arms every time a question is asked, it would be perfect.” The redhead glanced over his shoulder at the bushy-haired witch and shook his head.
Harry smiled to himself when an idea came to him. “Ron,” he replied quietly, “just think of Hermione as the Oliver Wood of our lessons.”
Ron snorted. “They’re both kind of intense, aren’t they?”
As the Gryffindor and Slytherin first year students turned in their potions for grading and cleaned up their workplaces, the professor made a request of four students.
“Miss Greengrass, Miss Davis, Mr Longbottom, Mr Potter, if not inconvenient, would you please stay behind for a few minutes after class?”
The request surprised the four students, but each quickly indicated it would not be a problem. After they had responded to their professor, they glanced at each other to see if anyone had an idea why the professor would make such a request. None of them had a clue.
Once their classmates had departed, Daphne, Tracey, Neville, and Harry gathered around the professor’s desk and looked at him expectantly.
Snape cleared his throat. Harry thought he looked both hesitant and vulnerable. Finally the Potions Master asked softly, “Have the last two classes been acceptable?”
Harry saw the same emotions on the faces of his three friends that he felt — surprise at the question, curiosity over why he would ask them, and a bit of distrust concerning the professor’s motives. Daphne and Tracey quickly gave reassuring replies.
That’s not like Snape at all. Does he really care what we think or is he being nice because of the complaints?
Neville responded after the girls had finished their positive comments. “The classes have been g-g-good.”
Harry nodded in agreement. “Everyone seems to enjoy the class now, and we’re learning a lot.”
The professor looked at each of the four students. “Thank you for your observations. They are appreciated. It is my intent to continue with this approach, so please let me know if I get off course.” Receiving the students’ assurances, Snape continued. “Well, I shouldn’t keep you any longer. Have a good day.”
As soon as the four friends were far enough from the classroom, Tracey asked, “What was that about?”
Daphne shrugged. “Either our Head of House is serious about changing, or he is going to great lengths to create the impression that he is.”
Neville added, “These last two classes have been so much better than the first one, whatever he’s thinking.”
Harry began to respond when noises from around the corner of the hallway stopped him. “What was that?”
“Sounds like several people talking loudly,” Daphne offered.
Tracey said, “Let’s see what’s going on.”
They sped up. As soon as they rounded the corner, they stopped in shock.
“You’re nothing but a disgusting know-it-all.”
“No wonder you have no friends.”
“With that horrible hair and buck teeth, who’d want to be her friend?”
“You don’t belong with proper wizarding folk, Mudblood.”
Draco Malfoy’s comment brought a gasp from the Gryffindor and Slytherin students who were watching the scene. Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, Crabbe, and Goyle, along with the blond pure-blood, surrounded Hermione Granger.
Harry took one look at his crying, nearly catatonic friend and felt a cold wave of anger wash over him. He was no longer at Hogwarts, but instead, on a playground at his former school. Dudley and his gang had surrounded him and were hurling one insult after another, which usually was the prelude to other activities.
Harry snapped back to the present. He subtly pulled out his wand. “Leave her alone.”
Every eye turned to the small boy, then back to Draco Malfoy, who sneered, “You think you’re going to stop all of us?”
“Silencio, Petrificus Totalus.”
Harry stalked through the Silenced and Petrified group of Slytherins and stopped directly in front of the blond boy, whose only expression was the fear showing in his dark grey eyes.
“I guess I am, Malfoy,” Harry said, his voice cold and threatening.
“Wingardium Leviosa.”
Malfoy rose into the air until he was about five metres above the stone floor. The boy’s eyes widened in shock and fear, as they shifted between Harry and the floor far below.
Harry’s eyes turned hard. “Don’t ever do that to any student again . . .”
“Harry! Don’t hurt him . . . please,” Hermione pleaded in a shaky voice.
He turned to his friend, and his eyes immediately softened. “You’re okay?” he whispered.
She nodded hesitantly. “They were only words. I don’t want you to get in trouble for hurting him.” Hermione looked at the suspended boy, then each of his Petrified Housemates. “He’s not worth it.”
Harry looked intently into the witch’s brown eyes. “Alright,” he said quietly.
With a wave of his wand, Harry slowly brought the Slytherin boy back to the ground. Tracey and Daphne immediately went to Hermione’s side, whispering reassuring words and comforting her.
Neville walked over to Harry. “Are you going to cancel the spells on them?”
Harry grinned. “Let their friends cancel them. We have to get to Defence.”
The two boys walked over to Hermione. Neville said, “If you’re feeling well enough, we should go to class, Hermione.”
“Oh, that’s right,” she exclaimed, a startled expression on her face. She turned to the two Slytherin witches. “Thank you, both of you,” she whispered. As her eyes swept over her still Silenced and Petrified assailants, she added, “Be careful.”
The two groups moved quickly in different directions. As Harry walked with Hermione and Neville, he briefly caught Ron’s eyes, feeling anger but mostly disappointment in the redhead.
Ron’s cheeks coloured but just as quickly his shoulders sagged, and his eyes moved from Harry’s questioning gaze to the floor. The Gryffindor first years walked the rest of the way to Professor Lupin’s classroom in silence.
Severus Snape moved unseen through the dungeon’s shadows and returned to his classroom, having seen almost everything that had transpired.
Chapter 27: Foolish Wand Waving
Author's Notes: Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. RL intruded with a vengeance, which really slowed the process. I'm hoping that several major story twists will keep you all from getting upset with me.
Kudos, as usual, to my splendid beta, cwarbeck. She edited the chapter in record time. Thanks, cel!
By lunch, the entire school knew what had transpired after the first period Potions class in the dungeon, though each story seemed more exaggerated than the previous one. Draco Malfoy, who already had a poor reputation, had become even more of a school laughing stock. His so-called friends also received their share of derision. Draco’s haughty, pale complexion seemed to have acquired a permanent fiery red tint in just the last few hours, and his anger at being treated less than his family’s position demanded swirled like a dark cloud around him.
Whoever watched the boy as he and his four Housemates sat apart from the rest of the Slytherin students could see that he constantly whispered to the four other exiles, while flashing hateful glares towards the Gryffindor table. For the most part, the Gryffindors ignored the petulant ponce, Hermione being the primary exception.
“Harry,” she whispered. “That’s the third time Draco’s stared in our direction. I’m really worried about what he may do.”
“I’ve seen him, too, Hermione,” he answered. “I just don’t think he’ll do anything to us, since everyone would know it was him. Don’t worry.”
Hermione sighed heavily. “You’re probably right. He just concerns me, with all his arrogance and pure-blood bigotry. Be careful, okay?”
“I will.” Harry smiled at his friend. “You, too.”
A few minutes later the Gryffindor first years left the Great Hall to face an even greater challenge than Draco Malfoy — the sleep-inducing, monotonous recitation of Magical History by Professor Binns. After the ninety minute nap was over, Harry and Hermione walked part of the way back to their dorm with Susan and Hannah.
“Did you really levitate Malfoy to the top of the hallway and bump his head on the stone ceiling?” the wide-eyed Hannah asked.
Harry and Hermione tried but couldn’t hold back their laughter. As soon as Harry realized the blonde witch’s question was sincere, he calmed down quickly. “Sorry. We can’t believe the stories that are going around. Okay, here’s what happened. Draco and the other four were all ganging up on Hermione, so I Silenced and Stunned them. I did levitate Draco, but only about five metres up. Then Hermione made me put him back on the ground.” He glanced at his friend. “She’s no fun at all.”
The two Hufflepuff witches laughed, while Hermione put on a faux scowl, then smiled at the grinning wizard.
The quartet soon split up as they went to their respective dormitories. After climbing through the Portrait hole, Harry said, “I’m going upstairs for a bit. I’ll see you before dinner.”
“Okay, but don’t forget your Transfiguration essay is due tomorrow,” Hermione said.
“Oh, no, I completely forgot about it. What’s it on again?” Harry looked slightly panicked.
Hermione stared at him for a minute. “You’ve finished it, haven’t you?” She cocked her head.
Harry nodded his head, smiling impishly.
“Prat,” Hermione said, returning his smile.
“Yup. See you later, Hermione.” The boy waved and started walking towards the staircase.
“Not if I see you first,” she replied, stopping Harry in his tracks.
The small boy started laughing. Finally regaining his breath, Harry said, “Good one, Granger.”
Using her haughty voice, the brown-haired witch replied, “Thank you, Mr Potter.”
Harry grinned at his friend and went upstairs. Once there, he sat on his bed and pulled out the letter from Ginny.
Dear Harry,
Merlin and Morgana! A lot went on after you and Ron left The Burrow. First, Dumbledore bans you from playing Quidditch. Don’t tell anyone, but I was this close to going with Mum and Dad to see the headmaster, because I wanted to give him a Bat Bogey Hex so bad. Of course, they wouldn’t let me go, which worked out for the best, I guess.
So, you and Ron have a fake detention instead — not a bad trade — and you’re back on the team. What I don’t understand is why Dumbledore penalized you so heavily and did nothing to Ron. My parents didn’t really answer my question when I asked them about that. I did get the feeling that the headmaster is going to try to treat you better, which would be a nice change. Of course, he may have said that just to stop Mum from chewing his ears off!
Okay, enough of that! Time for the good stuff. I had so much fun seeing you on Saturday! I loved visiting your family’s houses, of course. But it was so much better watching you see them, especially when the houses “talked” with you. I could tell that you were filling up with the Potter history that you’d missed. I just can’t describe how good that made me feel!
Oh, have you had a chance to read any of that book on the Potter Philosophy? It looked fascinating. Let me know in your next letter, kind sir. I really wish I could have gone with my parents, so I could have seen you again, even if they would have taken my wand away so I couldn’t hex the headmaster. Not that I want you sneaking away just to see little ol’ me, but we need to figure a way to get together again. Just make sure everyone knows this time.
Thanks again for taking me to see your houses. I know my parents really enjoyed it, too. Study hard and write me!
Your best friend,
Ginny
Harry’s cheeks hurt from smiling so widely and for so long. He pulled out several pages of parchment and his self-inking quill, along with the Potter Philosophy book.
Dear Ginny,
Thanks for writing! I’m really glad you and your parents could see the houses with Ron and me. I think my favourite part was standing on the viewing deck of the manor house and looking at the countryside with you.
I couldn’t figure out why Dumbledore was so upset. It began when I said we met with Ragnok and Griphook at Gringotts and got worse when I said they told me about the houses, my family’s history, and the other stuff. That’s when he told me I was banned from Quidditch.
Please thank your parents for me for coming up and talking with Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall also said something. Between your mum and Professor McGonagall, I bet Dumbledore got an earful! Whatever they said, it worked. I couldn’t imagine not playing Quidditch.
It was great seeing you. I’ll try to figure out how we can get together again, but this time I’ll have to ask Dumbledore. He probably would ban me from Quidditch for as long as I’m at Hogwarts if I took off without asking him.
I have the Potter book with me and will read some of it after I finish this letter. Oh, I noticed you’re doing really well on the lessons I’ve sent. I’ll send more on Monday or Tuesday.
See you soon hopefully.
Your best friend,
Harry
Harry put down the letter and quill, picked up the Potter Philosophy book, and started reading. The philosophy expressed by the third writer captured Harry’s interest.
Dear Potter Heir,
When you find yourself on a path not of your choosing, do not question it or cry out, saying the Fates have conspired against you. Do you believe Fate will listen and change the path you are on?
No.
Your fellow countrymen, both noble and of peasant stock, may applaud your efforts to persevere. But even that is not relevant. In truth, you have been placed on that vexing path, because you are the solution to the problem that has made the path undesirable. Do not waste precious time and temperament bemoaning the Fates or the task that lies ahead. Instead, embrace the challenge, for that is what makes man great. You were chosen, because you can solve the problem. Use the collective wisdom of the Potter Family to remove the problem and make the path one which everyone wishes to travel.
You may find yourself leading a parade.
Harry smiled at the idea of him and his friends leading a parade of Hogwarts students and staff, house elves and goblins, and the students’ families. Then, the thought of being the sole solution to a “vexing” problem crept into his thoughts, and he felt a cold chill flash down his spine. Harry quickly read the next entry from the third Lord Potter.
The most respected members of the Potter Family through the centuries have dedicated their lives to providing solutions, whether knowingly selected or as a matter of personal nature.
This outward-looking philosophy precludes self-involvement and self-interest, and at its most effective, serves to improve the society in which we dwell. This approach does not pay heed to the size of the problem that requires a solution, and it does not think it relevant the level of importance of the person or persons involved.
A Potter Family member freely gives of his or her talents for the betterment of all.
Harry winced when his thoughts went directly to his parents’ sacrifice for him. He knew in that moment that they had felt their actions were the best solution possible and were made for the betterment of all, including himself.
The boy blinked rapidly but held back only some of the tears that had formed. He tried not to picture the hurried conversation, the instinctive decision, or the outcome. Somehow, he knew his parents had no doubt they were taking the best action possible.
Harry closed his eyes and the images of his messy haired father and radiant mother came to him. I can feel them inside me, the boy thought, as a reassuring warmth coursed through his body.
As he took a deep breath and brushed away the fallen tears, Harry’s thoughts went to his best friend. I need to mail this letter to Ginny. But first I want to write these sections, so she can read them.
Once he had added the two sections of the Third Lord’s philosophy, Harry raced downstairs and found Ron playing Dean Thomas in chess. From the demolished players on the side of the board, Ron was obviously winning again.
“I’m going to the Owlery,” Harry said and held up the letter.
Ron winced, since he was close to winning the match.
Harry immediately understood the redhead’s reaction and said, “Don’t worry. You don’t have to go with me. I’ll be fine.”
Ron smiled in relief. “See you in a bit, then.”
Harry left the common room and walked through the nearly vacant hallways to the Owlery. Hedwig flew down as soon as the boy entered the round tower. Landing on his shoulder, the owl nuzzled her head on Harry’s cheek. When she finished saying hello, he gave her two owl treats.
“This is a letter for Ginny.”
Hedwig nodded her head as if to say, ‘Of course it is.’
“Have a good flight, girl.”
Hedwig pushed off lightly and glided through the open window. Harry watched as the late afternoon sun created a halo of light around his snowy owl. In a few more seconds, Hedwig disappeared into the clear blue sky, wending her way south to her owner’s best friend.
Harry continued to look out the window at the peaceful scene, where the emerald green lawns rolled down to the lake, the darkening green forest beyond, and finally the shadowy blue grey sky at the horizon, as the sun’s rays became weaker.
Walking back to the Gryffindor common room, Harry’s thoughts returned to the book. I really like the third Potter’s philosophies. It’s almost like I can feel him inside me and what he wrote about. I bet my father read that book.Harry shook his head.It’s weird, but I can sense the thoughts, like they’re a part of me.
The small boy smiled to himself.
“Where’s Harry?” Percy asked, as George and Fred looked on.
Ron looked up from his second game with Dean. “Oh, he went to the Owlery to mail another letter to Ginny. Why?”
George grimaced. “We better go find him.”
The three older Weasley boys moved quickly to the Portrait hole, followed by a puzzled looking Ron.
They were just about to turn a corner, when shouted words cracked through the previously silent hallways. Knowing Harry would be coming from the opposite direction, the four Weasley brothers sprinted down the next corridor, with their wands drawn.
”Stupefy! . . . Stupefy! . . . Incarcer . . .”
Harry quickly reacted to the spells being cast, though he couldn’t see who was sending them.
Protego Circulo, Silencio.
Overwhelming heat flared through the boy’s body when he finished casting the spells, and he collapsed.
Seconds later, the brothers fired off a series of curses at Draco Malfoy, Gregory Goyle, Vincent Crabbe, Pansy Parkinson, and Millicent Bulstrode, who were fanned out around the fallen body of Harry Potter.
“Stupefy . . . Petrificus Totalus . . . Silencio . . . Stupefy . . . Stupefy . . . Stupefy.”
The redheads approached the Stunned Slytherins and cast five Expelliarmus and five Incarcerous spells, then quickly went to Harry.
“He’s burning up,” Percy said, quickly removing his hand from Harry’s forehead. The prefect puzzled over Harry’s condition for a second, then pointed his wand at the boy and muttered “Finite”.
Some of the bright red colour left Harry’s complexion, but heat continued to roll off his body. “George, get the headmaster quickly,” Percy urged.
George ran down the hall as fast as he could, skidding as he reached the first corner, then disappearing from sight.
“Ron, Fred, keep on eye on these miscreants, please,” Percy asked. “I’ll try to do something for Harry.”
The two brothers moved to either side of the group, their wands out, barely keeping their rage from boiling over.
Percy was lost, deep in thought. Seconds later, he smiled briefly. “Aguamenti.” A stream of water emerged from Percy’s wand, and he directed it first towards Harry’s chest and torso. Then he cupped his left hand, filled it, and gently poured the water on the boy’s forehead and hair.
Seemingly just seconds later, the staccato sounds of shoes rapidly hitting the stone floor reached the three boys. Albus Dumbledore, running faster than anyone would have thought possible, reached the group, with George arriving seconds later.
The headmaster immediately kneeled next to the prone figure and began to move his wand over Harry’s body. The headmaster’s face reflected myriad emotions, with sorrow being the greatest.
“Excellent idea to douse him with water, Mr Weasley. He is burning up, but the heat is coming from inside him, which is most peculiar.”
The headmaster waved his wand and three silvery forms sped off. Next, he conjured a stretcher and levitated Harry onto it. Moments later, Professors McGonagall and Snape arrived.
“It appears that Mr Malfoy and his compatriots attacked Mr Potter. Please take them to my office.” He stared in disgust at the five Slytherins. “You may wish to keep the Silencing spell on them. We’ll take Harry to the hospital. Once he’s settled, I’ll return to my office to handle these five students.”
McGonagall and Snape nodded their understanding. The various Weasleys returned the Slytherins’ wands to the professors, and set off with the headmaster towards the hospital, as the two remaining professors began their job of moving the remaining students to the headmaster’s office.
“Do you know what happened?” Dumbledore asked Percy.
“Yes, sir,” Percy replied immediately. “We saw Malfoy and the others begin to cast curses at Harry. They were initially hidden in alcoves, so he couldn’t see them. They cast two Stupefy spells and part of an Incarcerous, then nothing. Harry probably cast a Silencio silently and wandlessly, but I think he may have cast another spell, also, because when I cast a Finite on him, his complexion became slightly less red . . .”
“You are exactly right, Mr Weasley. First of all, twenty points to you for your excellent assessment and response to the situation. Ten points to each of your brothers. Thank you, boys, for being so quick.
“Harry also cast a Protego Circulo. Because the spells reached him before he raised the shield, it functioned to keep the spells inside, rather than the spells dissipating naturally. The shield Harry cast was so strong the spells essentially rebounded multiple times inside it. That is why his complexion got less red when you cancelled the shield. Again, excellent thinking, Mr Weasley. Unfortunately, the contained spells seem to have created an internal fire in Harry. At least, that’s my theory at this point.
“Ah, good, here we are.”
Madame Pomfrey, having received the headmaster’s message, met the five wizards and their patient as soon as they entered the hospital ward. She quickly levitated the stretcher carrying Harry to a bed close to her office at the far end of the room.
“Albus, students attacking students in the hallways of the school? What is the world coming to?”
The nurse gently moved Harry from the stretcher onto the bed and immediately began to cast diagnostic spells over the boy, while the headmaster and Weasley boys watched closely.
Madame Pomfrey’s forehead furrowed in concentration, as she read the results of her spells. Finally, shaking her head, she turned to Professor Dumbledore. “I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s as if the two spells that hit him, stayed inside his body for a period of time . . .”
“That is exactly what I think happened, Poppy. Harry cast a Protego Circulo,” the witch’s eyebrows rose rapidly, “and I think it contained the spells inside the shield. Percy Wesley guessed something was wrong and cancelled the spell, not knowing if or what it was.”
“It’s a good thing he did,” the nurse exclaimed. “The boy is burning up inside. I’m concerned what it could do to his magical core, if it goes on too long. We need to cool him down and make sure he remains hydrated. All of his vital organs are properly functioning, so that is a good sign.”
Madame Pomfrey cast a Cooling Charm, waited a minute and took the boy’s temperature again, frowned, and cast a second Cooling Charm. While she waited to measure the effect of the second charm, the mediwitch poured a glass of water, and with Professor Dumbledore’s help, raised Harry to a sitting position. Small sips were given to the boy and the witch watched closely to make sure he swallowed each time, ready to cast a Swallowing Spell should he not do so instinctively.
Taking Harry’s temperature again, Madame Pomfrey nodded her head in satisfaction. “We just need to wait now, Albus. I will check on him every thirty minutes, but after an experience like this, I doubt he will be waking up soon. I will keep you informed, of course.”
“Thank you, Poppy,” the headmaster replied. “Gentlemen, you probably should return to your common room.”
Ron asked, “We can’t stay with him?”
“I will let you know immediately when Madame Pomfrey advises me that Harry has woke up,” the headmaster advised. “Again, my thanks to each of you for responding so quickly. I shudder to think what would have happened if you four had not been there.”
“Thank you, sir,” Percy said and looked meaningfully at his three younger siblings. “We’ll return to the common room now.”
“I will advise your parents of the developments,” the headmaster said, “once I have dealt with the Slytherin students.” Albus Dumbledore shook his head, suddenly looking every year of his century and a half age.
The Gryffindor students, having heard the distress in the Weasleys’ voices when they left the common room, quickly crowded around the redheads when they returned.
Percy quieted the cacophony of questions by holding up his hand. “Stop!” The strong action caused the noise to end as if someone had thrown a switch.
“Let me explain what happened, then we will answer any questions you may have,” Percy said, as if he were conducting a classroom lesson. “Harry was attacked by Malfoy and the four other Slytherins who were part of the attack earlier on Miss Granger.” An angry buzz rose from the students, with threats of retribution on Slytherin House. Percy’s eyes blazed. “No one is going to attack anyone else.”
He paused and looked at his Housemates. “The five are already in Professor Dumbledore’s office, along with Professors McGonagall and Snape. They will handle this. Is that understood?”
Mumbles greeted Percy’s question, but no one argued, so he continued. “Harry is in the hospital, being cared for by Madame Pomfrey. He currently is unconscious.” A series of gasps arose from the group. “From what the professor and nurse could tell, Harry responded so quickly with a Shield spell it caused two Stunners to be contained within the shield, so they didn’t dissipate.”
“How could a simple shield contain a spell?” Hermione asked.
Percy’s eyes widened, then his head dropped as realization hammered against him. “Harry used an advanced Shield spell I taught him,” Percy whispered, his face turning a blotchy red. “It creates a circular shield that encloses the caster from attacks from all sides. If he had used a regular shield, the spells wouldn’t have been contained . . .”
George interrupted, “Percy, there’s no telling what could have happened . . .”
“That shield may have helped him,” Fred added. “You can’t beat yourself up.”
“They’re right, Percy,” Oliver Wood said, as the students around him nodded their heads and murmured their agreement. “What are they doing for Harry?”
“Because the spells were contained, they created a great deal of heat inside Harry,” Percy explained. “Madame Pomfrey is lowering his body temperature to counteract that. She also will keep him well hydrated.”
“When can we visit him?” Katie asked.
“Professor Dumbledore will tell me when Harry is better. Visits will not be allowed until then.”
Despite the distress showing on the students’ faces, they reluctantly agreed with Percy’s pronouncement and began to return to the desks and chairs.
Ron turned to Hermione. “You may want to tell Harry’s friends in the other Houses what has happened. It’s probably better they hear from you than some rumour.”
Hermione looked curiously at the redhead. “That’s a good suggestion, Ron. Thank you.” She paused again. “Would you go with me?”
The redhead looked gobsmacked for several seconds. “Sure. Want to go now?”
Hermione nodded her head. “Let me just put my books away. I’ll be right back.”
The bushy-haired witch quickly collected her things and returned minutes later. The odd couple climbed through the Portrait hole and awkwardly, silently started walking towards the Hufflepuff dormitory.
Finally, Hermione looked at Ron. “What did you and your brothers see when you got there?”
Ron closed his eyes, as if picturing the scene. When he reopened them, they looked haunted. “They were all hidden in alcoves, so Harry couldn’t see them. Malfoy and someone else got off Stunning Spells, but Harry must have cast the Shield and Silencing Spells, so those were the only spells they got off. We stunned them, got their wands, and tied them up.”
Hermione eyes had widened considerably. “Ron, if you hadn’t gone to check on Harry they could have hurt him more badly.”
Ron looked briefly at the witch, the pain obvious in his eyes. “We promised to go with him whenever he left the common room, so he wouldn’t be alone. He told me he was going to the Owlery but said I could continue playing chess. If I’d gone with him . . .”
“You’d be in the hospital, too,” Hermione said, reaching out and squeezing the distraught boy’s arm. “It’s the same as Percy and the advanced shield. You can’t blame yourself, just be glad you got there before it got worse.”
The redhead breathed deeply. “Yeah, you’re right.” He looked at the girl walking next to him. “Thanks, Hermione.”
“You’re welcome, Ronald.”
With a combination of luck and good timing, Hermione and Ron eventually were able to gain entry into each of the other common rooms and explain what had happened. By the time, they finished their tour, a group of first years was accompanying the two Gryffindors.
Padma Patil spoke up. “We should discuss what we can do to help Madame Pomfrey, visit Harry, destroy Malfoy . . .” a number of students chuckled at the last activity.
Hermione suggested, “Why don’t we go back to the Gryffindor common room? I’m sure there are others in our House who would want to be involved in anything we do.”
Hermione’s suggestion was met with silence. She looked around curiously.
Finally Susan Bones said, “Hermione, students don’t go into the common rooms of other Houses.”
Hermione got a glint in her eye that was unmistakable, and her voice was like soft steel. “Harry brought us together.” She smiled internally when she saw everyone nod or smile. “If something had happened to one of us, he would bring us all together, right?” More nods, some more energetic than the first time. “I don’t think anyone in Gryffindor would mind any of you coming into our common room to plan how we can help Harry. Don’t you agree, Ron?”
The redhead looked startled, then blurted, “Whatever you say, Hermione.”
The statement caused everyone to laugh.
They relaxed completely when Hermione added, “Besides, we don’t have the reputation of being rabble-rousers . . . yet.”
The friends were chatting and laughing as Ron and Hermione led them through the Portrait hole. Nevertheless, they stopped abruptly when they entered the circular tower and looked around, concerned how they would be received. The Gryffindors looked up, saw the new arrivals were Harry’s group of friends, and returned to whatever they had been doing.
The friends heaved a collective sigh of relief and made their way over to the sofa and comfy chairs arrayed in front of the fireplace. Percy, the twins, Lee Jordan, the rest of the Quidditch team, and the remaining first years all joined the group.
Percy looked at Hermione and smiled at the first year. “What are you planning, Hermione?”
The young witch exhaled and smiled shyly at the fifth year prefect. “Padma,” she pointed out Parvati’s identical twin, “suggested we find out how we can help Madame Pomfrey, schedule visits so Harry won’t be alone, plot revenge on Malfoy . . .”
Before Percy could say anything the group started laughing. The tall redhead’s backbone actually seemed to loosen a bit. “Good one, Hermione.”
She smiled back. “It was Padma’s joke.” Padma nodded her head when Percy looked over at her with a smile. “We hope Harry recovers quickly, of course. But if he doesn’t, we want to be doing everything possible to help him.” The students from all four Houses nodded in agreement.
An hour later, a list had been made, responsibilities accepted, and the group finally broke up, but each person took back the feeling that despite the block walls and differing qualities that separated the four Houses they had friends wherever they went in school.
While the four Weasleys returned to Gryffindor Tower, Albus Dumbledore slowly made his way back to his office, wondering how things had got so bad so quickly this school year. His thoughts went to the Malfoy boy, who had consistently been in trouble — even before arriving at Hogwarts.
He’s just eleven-years old, Albus thought. How could he think in terms of attacking students? The other four, he dismissed as followers based solely on the Malfoy family name and position. Without realizing it, the headmaster arrived at the foot of the stairs that led to his office. Only the movement of the gargoyle brought him back to the present, and he rode up the stairs, still not certain how to determine the futures of the five students.
Perhaps their actions and attitudes will direct my decisions, the headmaster hoped, as he opened the door to his office. Seven heads turned to see who had entered the office. Draco turned away, staring at the wall behind the headmaster’s leather-covered desk chair, somehow still maintaining a smirking, superior expression.
Crabbe and Goyle resemble mini-trolls, the headmaster mused, but the two witches look frightened, though both are trying to hide it.
As Dumbledore walked towards his desk, Professors McGonagall and Snape cancelled the Silencing Spells on the students.
“I protest being treated like a common criminal,” Draco immediately complained. “Wait until my father . . .”
“Mr Malfoy,” Snape sharply interrupted the boy’s diatribe. “Your father most likely would again be embarrassed by your actions. You would be best served by remaining silent until you are asked a question.”
Malfoy stared angrily at his Head of House but remained quiet.
The headmaster sat down, and his eyes swept the room, stopping briefly but intently on each of the students in front of him. Snape stood against the wall, next to the large window, while Professor McGonagall stood on the opposite side of the room, near Fawkes’ perch.
The headmaster looked at his deputy. “Professor McGonagall, would you provide a summary of what happened?”
“Of course, Headmaster. From what we could tell, these five ambushed Mr Potter in the corridor about halfway between the library and the staircases . . .”
“That is not true,” Malfoy interrupted. Every head in the room turned in shock towards the blond boy. “The Weasleys and Potter attacked us in the hallway . . .”
Professor McGonagall snapped, “Would you like us to retrieve a pensieve memory from one of the Weasleys? Or perhaps you would want to offer one as corroboration of your story?”
Draco’s eyes widened, and he quickly shook his head. “They can be tampered with.”
“Mr Malfoy,” Snape said coldly. “Perhaps it would behove you to tell the truth. You are in enough trouble already.”
Malfoy again glared at the Potions Professor.
The headmaster looked at the four other Slytherins. “Do any of you wish to say anything?”
Four heads immediately turned to Malfoy, who shook his head slightly, which the four followers, immediately mimicked.
“Well, then, it appears that the five of you launched an unprovoked attack . . .” Draco’s head snapped up but he held his tongue. Dumbledore regarded Draco for several moments before continuing. “You attacked Mr Potter, which necessitated us moving him to the school hospital, with injuries we cannot diagnose as yet.”
Four of the five students each wore similar expressions of shock, which quickly became anger, as they glared at Malfoy.
“Since the intent of your attack obviously was to injure Mr Potter, your punishment . . .”
“Stop!” Draco yelled.
Again, all eyes in the room turned to the boy.
“Professor Snape suggested we attack Potter . . .”
“Mr Malfoy, that is enough!” Snape’s normally sallow complexion quickly moved from red to purple, as he yelled at the boy. He turned abruptly towards the headmaster. “That is categorically untrue.”
“Albus?”
Everyone turned to the fireplace in the headmaster’s office, which held the green-flamed head of a confused looking Arthur Weasley.
“Am I interrupting something?” he asked. “Ginny hasn’t been feeling well, but that’s not why I’m calling. She thinks Harry has been hurt.” Mr Weasley ended his explanation with a questioning look on his face.
Dumbledore walked over to the hearth and spoke quietly with Harry’s guardian. “I was just going to call you and Molly. Unfortunately, Ginny is right. Harry has been hurt. I’m sorry, Arthur, but it looks serious at this point.” Arthur Weasley closed his eyes. “If you would wait five minutes, I’ll leave the Floo open so you can come through.”
“Yes, of course, we’ll be there in five minutes. Thank you, Albus.”
Albus Dumbledore turned angrily to face the five students. “I will determine your punishment at a later time. Until then, you are restricted to your dormitory. So there is no misunderstanding, you are not allowed out for meals or lessons. Your Head of House will coordinate meals and the material covered in classes. Except for supervised class work, he will retain your wands.” He turned to Professor Snape, who nodded his head in acknowledgment. “You are encouraged to use this time to reflect on the path you have chosen and to consider the ramifications of that decision. You are dismissed. Professor Snape, please see them back to their dorm. Oh, yes, one hundred points from Slytherin. Professor McGonagall, please stay here with me.”
Minutes later, the fire flared and the three Weasleys entered the headmaster’s office. Ginny looked beyond distraught.
“I could feel something happening, Professor,” she said in a small, worried voice.
Minerva McGonagall knelt down, so she was on the same level as the petite witch. “Would you explain what you felt, Ginny?”
“I’m not sure when I felt it, but less than an hour ago. Two shocks to my body, then I got really hot, like I was burning up inside. That lasted for a while, then I started cooling down.” She looked at the professor with eyes so sad they tugged on the witch’s heart. “Somehow I knew it was Harry who was hurt, not me.”
The professor looked at Ginny, then her parents. “That’s what happened. Five students from another House attacked Harry when he was returning from the library.”
“Was he alone?” Molly asked.
“Yes, that’s right. Your four boys probably saved him from worse injury, by responding quickly when they determined Harry was out by himself. They arrived in time to Stun and capture the five students.” McGonagall turned to Dumbledore, who continued the discussion.
“Let’s walk to the hospital ward, while I tell you what else happened,” the headmaster suggested.
By the time they were walking up the corridor to the hospital wing, he had finished the story, and the Weasleys, especially Ginny, were seething. But it was Molly, who spoke first.
“Albus, I can’t believe students — and first years at that — attacked a single student like that. What’s going on at this school that eleven-year olds would resort to that type of behaviour?” Molly’s eyes were blazing by the time she ended, while both Arthur and Ginny looked at the headmaster, waiting for his response.
“Alas, Molly, it was an act of desperation by a student who has had great difficulties adjusting to Hogwarts. Draco has lost more points in the first week of school than any other student in history. I think Harry’s stopping him from belittling Hermione Granger was the last straw for the boy, and he lashed out without thinking of the consequences of his actions. I truly believe it is a one-time event, and not indicative of the safety of the students at school.”
Dumbledore held the door open for the Weasleys, and as soon as Ginny saw where Harry was, she took off at a sprint. When she arrived at his bed, she held his hand in both of hers and began to whisper to the still unconscious boy.
“Harry, we’re here, Mum, Dad, and me.” She giggled self-consciously. “This is Ginny, in case you couldn’t tell from my voice.”
“Ginny,” her dad said gently. “Harry’s in a coma. He can’t hear you.”
Ginny’s head whipped around and she glared at her father. “But what if he can hear us? I want to be with him . . . please? He needs someone here.”
Arthur smiled at his daughter. “You’re right, Firefly. You can stay. I know Harry will appreciate it.”
Ginny quickly returned her father’s smile and resumed whispering to her best friend.
The raging waves pelted Harry, as he desperately held on to the sides of the small row boat he was in. The wind whipped the boat through the cresting waves, moving it closer and closer to the jagged boulders at the base of the cliff that rose like a shadow from the ocean’s edge. Through the driving rain and his water-drenched glasses, Harry saw two other small boats had already been driven into the rocks. If there were any survivors, they couldn’t be seen.
The oars had been ripped out of the boy’s hands by a massive wave that had come out of the flashing darkness and crashed over him and the small boat. Despite his attempts to grab the oars, they were quickly carried away by the surging tide, leaving the boy without any means to navigate away from the danger.
Thunder continued to drum in counterpoint to the flashes of lightning that lit the obsidian sky. With each crackling illumination, Harry could see more details on the jagged, looming rocks as the small boat was pushed towards its inevitable doom.
Harry threw his weight to the left side of the boat with all the force he could muster, trying to change the course of the boat. At the same time, he heard a heartfelt, desperate wail above the storm’s crashing noise.
“Nnnooooooo!!!”
The boy’s head whipped around towards the sound, and he froze at the image looming no more than ten metres behind him. The giant, man-like creature seemed to grow from the ocean itself, with his long, silver grey hair and beard whipping around his head from the gale force gusts of wind.
For a split second, Harry captured the eyes of the giant and was shocked when he saw remorse reflected in them. In the next second a wave surged under the boat and lifted it in one final push towards its destruction. Harry closed his eyes and braced himself for the crash.
Seconds later, instead of feeling the boat being smashed against the rocks, Harry felt . . . nothing.
The boy opened his eyes and found he was now standing in a meadow that covered the top of the cliff as far as he could see when lightning lit the sky. From his vantage point by the edge of the cliff, he watched the waves continue to crash into the boulders below, sending silver grey sprays of water that briefly stood apart from the foaming ocean before their energy ran out and they returned from whence they came.
Harry turned quickly when he heard the soft sound of muted foot steps behind and to the side of him. The man and woman were only two metres away when Harry finally could recognize their faces.
“You!” he screamed. “What have you got me into?”
His mum and dad stopped in mid-step, shock frozen on their faces, their eyes wide and questioning.
“I try to do what people tell me, and what happens? Draco and his followers curse me. Nobody was helping Hermione, so I had to. Now, I’m in the hospital and nobody knows what to do.”
“But, Harry,” his mum said softly . . .
“Don’t ‘But Harry’ me. You haven’t lived my life. Did you see that Dumbledore kicked me off the Quidditch team? And for what? All I wanted to do was see the stupid houses you left me. Of course, the headmaster never told me about them. I had to hear about my own family from the Gringotts goblins. Great job, you did. You knew Voldemort was after you. Why didn’t you get things set up right? Then that old man couldn’t have put me with the Dursleys. I could have grown up in the wizarding world and not be treated like a freak all my life.”
“Harry!” His father said sharply. “We didn’t plan any of this. You need to calm down.”
“No I don’t,” the boy screamed, and he threw out his arms out towards his parents, banishing them into the darkness.
The boy turned sharply towards the groups of people who were milling thirty, forty metres from the cliffs. The wind and rain and mist obscured them, so they were visible only as ill-defined grey images. Harry walked towards the closest group. As he passed, a blonde girl eyed him suspiciously, but the others studiously ignored him.
No matter what he said or did, he couldn’t attract the attention of anyone standing in the meadow. The boy finally saw the night sky begin to show the first signs of morning. The sun cast a hazy reddish tint on a group furthest from him. Harry began walking as quickly as he could in their direction, feeling something akin to a tidal pull. When the distance remained the same, he began to run, finally stopping when his sides ached and his lungs burned from lack of oxygen. The group remained the same distance away, so the boy turned and walked back to the edge of the cliff, anger exploding off his body like bolts of lightning and thoughts of retribution drumming on his brain.
The storm picked up in intensity.
Ginny quickly walked to Madame Pomfrey’s office. “Harry has gotten warmer again and is sweating.”
The nurse looked up from the large book she was studying. “Thank you, Miss Weasley, I’ll be right there.”
Ginny quickly returned to Harry and watched as her mum wrung out a damp cloth and placed it on the boy’s fevered forehead.
The medi-witch arrived and cast another set of diagnostic spells on the boy. Shaking her head, she said, “His temperature is even higher than before. The Cooling Charms don’t protect him against these surges. I wish I knew what caused them. I haven’t found anything like this in any of my books.”
The nurse shook her head again and muttered the words for two more Cooling Charms, checked Harry’s temperature, and cast a third charm.
“Have you been giving him water every fifteen minutes?” she asked.
Molly Weasley nodded her head. “A full glass each time.”
“Let’s do that every ten minutes then.” Madame Pomfrey looked from Molly to Ginny. “Thank you for helping out. I’ll continue to research. Please let me know if there are any more changes.”
The two Weasley witches nodded and the nurse returned to her office.
Ginny resumed her non-stop chatter, telling Harry about everyday life at The Burrow, her reactions to the four Potter houses they had visited, the enjoyment of flying, especially with him, and anything else that came to her mind.
Her monologue stopped abruptly, though, when Harry began to thrash violently. Ginny instinctively reached out to hold his arms down, but stopped the movement, thinking it could make her friend even angrier, for that’s the emotion she felt rolling off him.
Her mum reached out with the same intent, but Ginny stopped her. “I think holding him down would make Harry even more upset. He needs to get this out of his system.”
Molly looked curiously at her daughter, but she did pull back her hands. “You think he’s acting out what he’s dreaming about?”
“Something like that,” Ginny replied. “Harry feels very upset about something, and that’s causing him to do this.”
“Are you feeling what he’s feeling?” her mum asked.
Ginny shook her head. “No, I just understand what he’s feeling.”
The third Lord Potter’s philosophies about not fighting Fate, being the solution to problems, and leading people kept hammering at Harry’s mind.
I don’t want to be the solution or lead people. I just want to be left alone. Look what happened when I did try to help people. Dumbledore gets on me for making friends outside of Gryffindor and Malfoy curses me for helping Hermione. Forget about Fate, I don’t want to do this.
The boy felt like heavy chains weighed down his arms and legs, and he fought incessantly against them, trying to free himself.
‘A Potter Family member freely gives of his or her talents for the betterment of all.’ I’m eleven! What talents do I have? What can I do to make things better for everyone?
‘Use the collective wisdom of the Potter Family to remove the problem and make the path one which everyone wishes to travel.’ What collective wisdom? I have no family! My parents died when I was fifteen months old! What is the problem I have to remove? Dumbledore treats me differently than the other students, but I don’t know why. Is there something I have to do?
If Mr Weasley hadn’t told me to make friends outside my House, this wouldn’t have happened. Whenever I make friends, bad things happen. Look at what happened when I began to trust Ron and the twins. They prank me. The only friend who hasn’t turned on me is Ginny.
‘Dear Potter Heir, When you find yourself on a path not of your choosing, do not question it or cry out, saying the Fates have conspired against you.’ What does that mean? Am I just supposed to accept what Dumbledore has done to me? I can’t stand this! It wasn’t Fate or anyone else. Dumbledore put me on this path through his decisions and keeping things from me.
Finally, the boy felt himself calming down and the torturous thoughts left his mind. He fell into a deep sleep.
After the meeting of Harry’s friends broke up, Hermione and Ron went to the hospital wing to see their friend and to talk with Madame Pomfrey. When they walked into the ward, they were surprised to see Ron’s parents and sister huddled around Harry, even though they knew the headmaster was going to advise them of what happened. Ginny’s close proximity to Harry startled both Ron and Hermione, as she leaned close to the boy, whispering to him.
After greetings and introductions were exchanged, Hermione went to Madame Pomfrey’s office, while Ron repeated, at his parents’ request, what he and his brothers saw when they came upon Harry and his attackers.
When he finished, Ginny asked, “Harry brought back a book called Potter Philosophy. Would you check to see if you can find it in his trunk or nightstand? I know he was interested in it, so I thought I would read it to him.”
Ron stared at her for a few seconds, then shrugged his shoulders. “Okay. I’ll look for it. Let Hermione know I’ll be right back.”
“Sure,” Ginny said. “Thanks, Ron.”
Hermione finished her discussion with Madame Pomfrey before Ron had returned, so she told the Weasleys what the nurse had agreed to. “You probably know that Harry has made a number of good friends already. We got together after we heard what happened, because everyone wanted to help in some way. Madame Pomfrey is going to let us visit beyond the normal hours, and we thought we could keep him current on what is going on at school and in his classes by talking to him and reading the assignments.”
Ginny’s sour reaction was evident to her parents and Hermione, but she didn’t say anything.
Molly was the first to respond. “That’s an excellent idea, Hermione. I’m sure Harry will appreciate everything you and the others are doing. We certainly do.”
The door opening rather loudly diverted their attention, as a red-cheeked, puffing Ron Weasley entered the ward, carrying a very old book and looking as if he had run the entire way from Gryffindor Tower.
“What did Madame Pomfrey say?” the redhead asked, as he handed the book to his sister.
“She approved everything. We start tomorrow,” Hermione answered.
“Good. We can tell everyone at dinner tonight.” Ron turned to his parents. “How long are you staying?”
Mr and Mrs Weasley exchanged a glance, and Mr Weasley answered, “We’ll probably return home tonight. We just want to make sure Harry is stable. It’s been quite a shock.”
Ginny’s cheeks instantly reddened and her mouth opened to say something, but she quickly closed it. Instead, she filled a glass with water, and with her mother’s assistance, helped Harry to drink it.
“Well, I should be getting back. I still have a Transfiguration paper to do,” Ron said. “I’ll see you later.”
Hermione began to say something but quickly shut her mouth and looked at the Weasley parents. “It was nice meeting all of you.”
The two students returned to their dorm, while Mr and Mrs Weasley and Ginny continued their vigil.
Ginny opened the Potter book to where a book mark had been left. The more she read, the larger her frown became.
“Harry,” she whispered. “If you read the entries where the book mark is, I can see why you’d be upset. You were put on a horrible path. But you were a baby. You had nothing to do with the decision. Professor Dumbledore placed you at the Dursleys. You’re making your choices now that you know who you really are. You have been more open, and that is why people like you. Not because you’re a solution to some problem no one knows about. Just being yourself brings people to you, not declaring yourself some kind of leader. This book has some interesting ideas, but remember when these early philosophies were written. Times were very different hundreds of years ago. I really don’t think they were intended for eleven-year olds. I hope you didn’t take these the wrong way, Harry.”
He finally began to close the distance between himself and the group standing in the reddish morning light. One of the members of the group, the smallest person, left the others and started walking towards him. When they finally met, she smiled and took his hand, leading him further back into the meadow, where they sat on a stone bench. Harry was surprised that it wasn’t cold when he sat down. Instead, it felt quite comfortable, and a calm feeling filled the boy for the first time he could remember.
Suddenly, the girl’s head turned towards the people she had just left. Her frown turned to a scowl, and she shook her head almost violently. She turned to the boy, with the saddest expression he had ever seen, as tears rolled down her cheeks. The petite girl whispered something to him, but he couldn’t understand what she had said. She reluctantly rose from the bench, still holding his hand, until her movement away from him caused their grip to slip away. She walked back with her head hanging down, and the boy thought he saw her tears continue to fall.
The boy felt cold and alone after that, worse than before the girl had joined him. He got up and started moving through the other groups, but he didn’t get the response he had with the girl, didn’t feel the same connection. He wandered back to the edge of the cliff, startled to see that the storm had dissipated and the ocean was placid.
“Ginny, time for us to be returning home,” her mum said quietly. “Harry seems to have calmed down. Madame Pomfrey will make sure he’s well taken care of, and Ron, Hermione, and the others will visit, so Harry will have lots of people watching him.”
Ginny’s face had flushed. “Can’t I stay, Mum? I can sleep here. I won’t be any trouble.”
Her father joined them. “We know you want to stay, Firefly. But this is a hospital. Harry will be well taken care of. We can come back to visit again, if he hasn’t already recovered. How’s that?”
Ginny knew better than to argue with her parents. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that Harry would best respond to her, not Madame Pomfrey or any of his school friends. She whispered her goodbye to Harry and left the hospital with her parents.
Several days passed with no change in Harry. He almost seemed to be adrift on a wide sea, not tethered to anyone who visited him. As promised, his friends had set up a schedule, so he had visitors most of the time. They would talk to him about what was happening in school, read assigned chapters and discuss what the professors had said in class. Some even revealed personal feelings when they were alone with him. It didn’t matter what was said or who said it, Harry Potter did not react to anyone. Through these days, Madame Pomfrey consistently kept the boy cool through constant hydration and Cooling Charms.
Finally, the fever — or internal fire — broke in an explosion of sweat, then chills, which the nurse quickly calmed. A surge of positive energy went through the group of friends, as the good news reached them and they all made their way to the hospital, where they crowded around his bed. From a medical standpoint, Harry was fine, except for the one obvious fact that he was still unconscious. The initial joy over the fever breaking was rapidly replaced by confusion, as the friends, Madame Pomfrey, Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, and even Severus Snape struggled to come up with theories or treatments that would release the boy from whatever was holding him.
Hermione remembered Harry’s comment that he sent each day’s lessons to Ginny, so she filled in during his absence and hoped her actions weren’t making the young girl feel even worse. Her worries were somewhat relieved when Ginny began to return the assignments. In reviewing them, Hermione became impressed with how quickly the young witch picked up the concepts being taught and her ability to express and apply them.
Walking back from dinner with Ron, Hermione expressed her admiration of Ginny’s academics. “Ginny’s class work would be among the top in our class, I think.”
Ron smiled. “She is smart, but that’s nothing compared to how she understands people. Ginny was the one to break through with Harry, when he came to stay with us. For a while, she was the only one he would talk with. They became really close.”
Hermione’s eyes widened with each comment. “I’m going back to the Great Hall. I have an idea.”
The bushy-haired girl raced down the corridor, followed more discretely by the redhead. Hermione burst into the nearly vacant hall and was relieved to find Professor McGonagall still seated at the head table, talking with the headmaster. Hermione skidded to a stop in front of the professors, breathing heavily. Her entrance had captured the attention of the two professors, and they waited patiently while Hermione got her breath back.
Finally breathing somewhat normally, she blurted out, “I think Ginny should come back and work with Harry.”
Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall looked at her thoughtfully. Finally, the Transfiguration Professor responded, “You may have something there, Miss Granger. What makes you think Miss Weasley is the key?”
“Several things, Professor. Harry wrote her every night, with news of the day and lessons from the day’s classes. That’s a lot of work for a casual relationship. Ron said Ginny was the one who broke through to Harry when he first got there and they got close during that month. Then, there just seemed to be something between them when Ron and I came into the hospital the first night. What do you think?”
Professor McGonagall looked at the headmaster, then returned her gaze to her student. “I think it is worth trying. Harry has not responded to anyone else yet. I have seen him and Ginny together, and they do seem to have established a rapport. Ten points to Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for creative problem solving.”
Hermione smiled at her professor. “Thank you. Ron’s comments played a big part, too.” The redhead ducked his head as his cheeks took on additional colour. “I just hope Ginny can help him.”
“That reflects our hopes, too, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said. “We’ll contact Mr and Mrs Weasley to see if they are amenable to having Ginny stay at school and help Harry. My compliments to both of you on coming up with a potential solution.”
The two professors went to the headmaster’s office to make the Floo call to the Weasleys, while Hermione and Ron left the Great Hall and started walking back to their common room.
“. . . your son, Ronald, and Miss Granger came up with the idea of bringing Ginny back so she could work with Harry. Their thought, and Minerva and I concur, is that your daughter has the strongest relationship with Harry, so she stands the best chance of pulling him out of whatever is keeping him unconscious.”
Both Arthur and Molly smiled at the comments from the headmaster, whose head was engulfed in green flames in The Burrow’s fireplace.
“We noticed the relationship develop during the time Harry stayed here,” Molly said.
“It became obvious when they saw each other when we visited Harry’s houses,” Arthur continued. “The extent of how much they care for each other and their affection is so natural we are sure they don’t have an inkling what is developing.”
“Ginny would love to help Harry return to us,” Molly said. “And we’ll do anything to help the boy. Shall we bring her down?”
“Yes, please, Molly,” the headmaster replied.
A minute later Ginny kneeled in front of the hearth, with her parents standing behind her.
“I’d love to return to school and help Harry,” the young witch said. “Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it.”
“That is great news, Miss Weasley,” the headmaster said. “Why don’t you put together clothes and anything else you need for your stay? Then, you and your parents can Floo to my office. Does that sound good to everyone?”
The headmaster received three enthusiastic responses.
“We’ll be there soon, Albus,” Mr Weasley replied.
By the time her dad had finished speaking, Ginny was already racing up the stairs to her bedroom. Half an hour later, her clothes, personal effects, and Percy’s first year books were packed, and they were ready to Floo to the headmaster’s office. Ginny bubbled with excitement when she and her parents stepped through the Floo into the headmaster’s office.
“Ah, Miss Weasley, so good to see you,” the headmaster greeted her. “Molly, Arthur, thank you for letting her stay at school. We thought it would be easiest for her to stay in the ward with Harry.” Both Molly and Arthur nodded their agreement. “Does that meet your approval, Miss Weasley?”
“That would be great. Thank you, Headmaster,” the small redhead replied.
“Good! Shall we go to the hospital wing, then?”
Dumbledore was joined by Minerva McGonagall, the two Weasley parents, and Ginny. Minutes later, they arrived at the hospital ward. Ginny had almost begun to run to Harry’s bed, when her eyes narrowed at the sight of three witches surrounding her friend. Her heart froze, as if someone had reached inside of her and stopped it from beating. She felt faint until she realized she’d been holding her breath. Several deep breaths stopped the room from spinning.
Ginny reminded herself that Harry had made lots of friends and that these three were probably part of his group. She also focused on the reality of why she was there. None of his new friends had been able to help him out of wherever he was hiding. She placed her bag on the bed next to Harry’s and walked towards her friend.
Minerva McGonagall had been observing Ginny’s reactions from the time they had entered the ward. “Miss Weasley, let me introduce you.” The three students stood up, while Ginny stopped at the end of the bed. “This is Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis, and Hannah Abbott.” The professor pointed out each witch in turn. “This is Ginny Weasley, Ron’s sister, and Harry’s friend.”
Ginny smiled to herself at the professor’s introduction.
Daphne nodded her head towards the smaller witch, a pleasant expression on her face. “Hi Ginny. Hermione told us you were coming. We,” she gestured at the other two girls, “hope that you can pull Harry out of whatever this is.” She shook her head. “It’s been very frustrating.”
Myriad thoughts pinged through Ginny’s mind. ‘She’s so pretty. But she seems really nice. Most important, she cares about Harry.’
Ginny returned Daphne’s smile. “Hi Daphne. I hope I can do something.” She tilted her head in thought. “What have you been doing when you visited Harry?”
Tracey responded, “We’ve read assignments to him, talked about what’s going on in class and in general, just kind of visited.”
The blonde girl, Hannah, asked, “What do you plan to do?”
“A lot of what you did, but I’ll also remind Harry of stuff we did when he stayed with us the last month of summer, and I brought some books he likes.”
Hannah nodded. “Those are good ideas. I still can’t believe Malfoy and those others would attack Harry like that.”
Ginny’s forehead furrowed. “Has Harry been hot since you guy’s started visiting?”
The three first year witches looked at each other, their eyes wide to keep from snickering. Finally Tracey said, “Nah, Harry’s been hot since he first arrived at Hogwarts.”
Ginny’s eyes widened, then the four girls started laughing loudly.
When they calmed down, Tracey grinned. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”
Daphne said, “We’re glad you’re here, Ginny. We miss our friend.”
Hannah added, “Let us know if there’s anything we can do to help you.”
Ginny looked at the girls in surprise. “I, uh, thought you wouldn’t want me here.”
All three witches shook their heads, and Tracey responded, “Hermione and Ron let us know how close you and Harry had gotten during the summer.” Tracey smiled at the younger girl. “Harry just thinks of us as friends.”
Ginny looked at each of the girls. “Thanks. I was worried, you know? You’re still going to visit, right?”
The three girls enthusiastically nodded their heads, and Daphne said, “I guess we should go and let you get to work on that boy.”
“See you soon,” Ginny replied.
“Thank you for watching over Harry.” Ginny jumped when she heard her mum’s voice, having forgotten the headmaster and her parents had been standing behind her.
With a chorus of goodbyes and well wishes, the girls left.
Ginny shook her head. “They’re so nice. I thought they’d be rude or resent me, coming to their school.”
“Miss Weasley, you’ll find that all of the students Harry has befriended are quite nice,” the headmaster advised. “He seems to have a knack of finding very good friends. They made up a schedule so Harry would not be alone for long periods. As Miss Davis told you, they have been trying to keep him current on his schoolwork and just chatting. Like you, they made the assumption that if Harry could hear them, they would put the time to good use.”
Harry moved deeper into the cave’s shadows, when he heard several people talking outside. ‘There’s no telling what they might do, if they find me in here.’
As soon as the people moved on, the boy pressed further into the darkness, thankful for the coolness, the silence, and the safety it offered. He leaned back against the rough stone wall and breathed deeply, trying to block any thoughts from entering his mind. He stayed that way for quite awhile, letting the lack of any outside stimulus lull him into a state of inertia.
Adrenaline shot through the boy, when he heard movement behind him, from the back of the cave. He tried to shrink further into the shadows. His anger flared, and he briefly considered racing out of the cave when he saw who it was.
“Harry, don’t run away,” his father advised. “We’ll stop you if you try.”
“And we can block a Banishing spell,” his mum said. She kneeled about a metre from her son. “The attack shocked you, didn’t it Harry?”
As soon as he heard his mother’s question, the boy’s insides caved and tears sprang from his eyes. Seconds later, Harry launched himself into his mother’s open arms, feeling as if every emotion he had was pouring out of him. He could feel her arms encircle him, pulling him close and creating a safe haven. Another hand squeezed his shoulder, then rested reassuringly there.
The boy’s breathing came in shuddering, erratic gasps, as the emotional poison was ejected from his system. Finally, his breathing became deeper and more regular, as he luxuriated in his mother’s embrace.
Feeling much calmer, the boy stepped back and looked at his parents. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. The attack did shock me. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I know you did everything you could.”
His mum drew him back into another hug. “We understood what you were feeling, Harry, how frustrated you were. Don’t worry about it.”
“There’s an important point we need to show you, son,” his dad explained. “That’s why we’re here.”
Harry looked at him curiously. “What?”
“What happened comes down to one person — Draco Malfoy,” James Potter answered. “He basically threatened the other four into helping him. Everyone else in school — from the headmaster to your first year friends — is on your side. They want you to come back to them, not to be a leader, not to make sweeping changes, but just to be their friend again.”
His mum added, “We can show you parts of some of the visits if you want.”
Harry thought about his mum’s offer for a few moments. “That would be great.”
The cave dissolved, and Harry found himself watching Daphne and Tracey sitting on the sides of his hospital bed, each holding his hand.
Daphne said, “Everyone in school is pulling for you, Harry.”
“It’s not the same without you,” Tracey added.
They were replaced by Anthony Goldstein. “Harry, you’ve got to wake up, so we can duel some more in DADA. I think I may have a chance against you now. C’mon, buddy.”
Ron’s eyes darted around the ward, then he quickly brushed away several tears. “I should have been with you. I made a promise, then I didn’t keep it. That’ll never happen again, Harry.”
Harry felt his breath hitch, but his mum quickly began rubbing his back to calm him.
Hermione held his hand in both of hers. “I’ve been researching to try to find what’s happening with you, but no success yet. Madame Pomfrey is, too. We miss you, Harry.”
“Lad, Mrs Weasley and I have to return to The Burrow, but Ginny will stay here as long as it takes to bring you back. It was a dastardly trick the Malfoy boy played on you. But, Harry, you can overcome this. We all have faith in you, son.”
Tears welled in Harry’s eyes from Mr Weasley’s comments, but he tried to hide them from his parents, thinking they would be disappointed or hurt. He felt both parents move closer to him.
“Harry,” his dad said. “We would have picked the Weasleys for you to stay with had we known what was going to happen.”
“So, it’s alright for Arthur to call you ‘son,’ Lily Potter said softly. “We know our place in your heart and don’t feel you caring for them diminishes what we had with you.”
Harry’s eyes moved between his mum and dad. “Really?”
“Really and truly, son,” his dad said.
“We’ll always be a part of you, Harry,” his mum whispered. “Don’t let any concerns about that stop you from letting other people into your life.”
His dad waited a few seconds before saying, “One last visit to show what your mum just said.”
Ginny sat on the side of his bed, holding his hand in one of hers, and stroking his cheek with the other. Tears slowly trailed down her cheeks.
“Did you know I felt it when you got cursed?” the petite redhead whispered to the unmoving boy. “There were two shocks, which were the stunners, I guess. Then, I felt like my insides were on fire. But, Harry, somehow I knew you had got hurt, that it wasn’t something wrong with me. I told my parents, and Dad fire called Professor Dumbledore. I wanted to Bat Bogey Hex my brothers, but they are so down I couldn’t. They feel like they failed you.
“I’ve been here a couple of days now, and your friends have continued to visit. I can’t believe how nice they are. I thought they wouldn’t like me or they’d be mean, because I’m younger and they don’t know me. But it’s been the opposite. All of your friends have been great.
“I hope you can hear us, because they’ve been giving you your lessons each day, even your professors have been by several times, just to check on you. Anyhow, they’ve included me in the lessons, so it’s like I’m a student here. I’ve continued doing the homework and essays and everything and Hermione or Padma check them for me.
“There’s only one thing wrong, Harry. You’re not here. Everyone misses you. Please don’t be too much longer.”
Ginny moved her hand from his cheek, kissed her fingertips, and lightly placed her hand on Harry’s heart. “Come back to me, Harry,” she whispered. “I can’t lose my best friend.”
The scene dissolved, and Harry found himself back in the cave with his parents. He took several deep breaths to calm down. “That was kind of overwhelming.”
His father smiled. “And that was just a sampling. You’ve affected a lot of people, son. You were doing the right thing, including defending Hermione. That witch is scarily smart.” James looked at his wife. “Like another Muggle-born witch I know.”
Harry looked at his parents and found both were smiling. His mum turned to him, still smiling.
“Are you ready to leave the cave now?”
Harry took a step back. The cave is safe and quiet. But there are no friends, no flying, no books . . .
The boy looked up and exhaled deeply. “Yeah, I think I am.”
Both of his parents smiled at him. His mum explained, “You won’t return immediately. You will still have a little more time, but you’ll know when it’s right.”
“Harry, we’re very proud of you and the decision you’ve made,” James Potter said. “We’ll see you again, son.” He pulled the boy close in a hug and ruffled his hair. When he stepped back, his wife took his place.
“It was so good to see you, Harry,” his mum whispered, as she released her hug. As Harry began to walk towards the opening of the cave, she added, “We’ll always be with you, son.”
Harry looked back and saw his parents dissolve into nothing. He took a deep breath and turned towards the light. Walking out of his hiding place, Harry saw the vague outlines of a castle in the distance, with lots of people and activity around it. He started walking in that direction.
Ginny pulled one of the King Arthur books from the adjacent bed stand and began to read the first chapter to her friend. The chapter provided an overview of Arthur’s life, from the time Merlin moved him from his royal family and placed him with one where he would be judged on his own merits, not some title, and ending with his ascension to King.
Ginny’s words, for the first time, broke through the fog that had enshrouded Harry’s brain, and he began to listen eagerly to his favourite tale, even though he was still comatose. As a younger child, Harry had derived solace from Arthur overcoming his challenging early life and rising to the highest position in the land. He also envied Arthur a bit, because the young lad had Merlin advising him even during the early stages of his life, whereas Harry had no one.
The boy wondered if Albus Dumbledore would ever be his Merlin but gave it up as too fanciful a thought. I’m not destined for anything great, like Arthur. I’m not the son of a royal family.But the boy’s thought turned to the Potter Philosophy book, and he wondered if it were more than mere chance that Ginny had selected that book out of the thousands in the manor’s library. What if I am destined to do great things? A chill went down the boy’s spine as he recalled that Mr Ollivander had said exactly that when he had bought his wand.
Ginny continued reading the Arthurian legend to Harry, marvelling at how Arthur had united various parts of England that had previously operated independently of each other. Most of the time, he had negotiated with these separate factions to bring them into a stronger body. But occasionally, Arthur would be forced to use his sword to persuade a stubborn leader. Of course, Ginny smiled to herself, the sword was Excalibur.
Best of all for the young witch was the marriage of Arthur and Guinevere. While not widely known, Ginny’s given name was really Ginevra, which in French translated to Guinevere. The redhead whispered that little known fact to her sleeping friend, confident he would not recall it when he woke up.
Despite his body’s continued refusal to wake up, Harry’s brain felt refreshed and energized. He laughed to himself at the odd coincidence of Ginny’s translated name being the same as Arthur’s Queen. That thought led him to others.
Maybe the philosophies in the Potter book aren’t burdens. Maybe doing the right thing is what they’re talking about. Arthur never looked at his future and what he had to do as burdens. It didn’t limit him to a single path. Ginny just read that he used a number of different approaches, depending on who he was talking with and the topic. So, I don’t have to be limited. I can do what I think is best.
Arthur’s uniting parts of England is kind of like my wanting to bring the Houses together. In both, they had been operating separately for a long time. In some cases, he had to overcome opposition, even though it was in their best interest. That fits Slytherin, except for Daphne and Tracey. Wizards don’t seem to like goblins and they ignore house elves. Maybe they’re part of this, too.
I don’t think Arthur ever felt he was a solution to anything. I sure don’t like thinking like that. It’s arrogant. But he knew what he wanted to do and wasn’t afraid to work hard to achieve it, even if it was dangerous. That’s what I want to do, too.
Harry’s mind finally slowed down, and he could feel himself floating into a very relaxed state.
“How is he doing?” Hermione asked, while Ron looked closely at his roommate.
“No change, really, though I thought I got some reaction when I was reading King Arthur to him.”
Hermione’s eyes widened at Ginny’s answer. “What kind of reaction?”
“Nothing physical. He didn’t move or anything,” Ginny replied. “It was more like he was moving closer to the surface. Does that make any sense?”
Hermione nodded energetically. “It does. His mind could be waking up, but he needs his body to catch up.”
Ginny grinned. “That’s what it was like.”
“Well, that’s good news. How are you holding up?”
“Oh, I’m doing fine. I just want him back,” Ginny replied.
“We all do,” her brother said quietly.
“We should be leaving,” Hermione said. “It’s almost curfew.”
“Thanks for coming by.”
“We’ll see you tomorrow, Ginny.”
Once Hermione and Ron had departed, the redheaded witch looked through the stack of books on the bed table and selected one on the History of Magic. After about thirty minutes, she succumbed to boredom and put the book down.
Gathering up her pyjamas and other things, she went into the loo and prepared for bed. Ten minutes later, she was fast asleep in the bed next to her friend’s. Several hours later, the door squeaking woke her up. Something told her to continue acting like she was asleep. A dark shadow moved stealthily down the aisle between the two rows of beds.
Ginny’s fingers tightened around her wand that was hidden under her pillow, even though she hadn’t seen the man holding one. The shadows made it difficult to see who the person was, but Ginny did notice he had dark hair that hung like curtains on either side of a face that featured a long hooked nose.
As the man passed her bed, she noticed he had on billowing black robes, and it appeared everything else he wore also was black. Ginny frowned in anger, because she could no longer see the visitor. She heard him stop, then approach Harry on the far side of his bed. Ginny was strongly tempted to turn over, but she knew any such movement would call attention to herself and maybe cause the visitor to leave quickly.
A moment later, the man began to whisper, and Ginny realized from the twins mimicking his highly distinctive voice the visitor must be Professor Snape, the Potions Master.
“Potter, what are we going to do with you? Malfoy’s attempt was pathetic, but it appears your shield made it much worse than it would have been otherwise. Typical Gryffindor; typical Potter. You know you’re no good to anyone lying around like this. Worse yet, Dumbledore has been watching me like a hawk, and that is . . . irritating. Did you know that the headmaster has not decided what to do with the five students who attacked you? I think he’s waiting to see if any permanent damage was done before announcing the punishment.
“I’m trying to help Madame Pomfrey find an antidote, but we’re both stymied since neither of us has seen this before. Ironically, your mother was the only student in school who was close to me in Potions ability. I bet she would love to come back to work on a solution. Just like your Miss Granger in that regard.
“Mr Potter, you can’t let Malfoy, that pathetic excuse for a wizard, bring you down. Besides, I wouldn’t get full satisfaction if we beat Gryffindor in Quidditch if you weren’t playing. Time to wake up, Potter. I owe too many people to lose you this quickly.”
Snape left as quietly as he had arrived, seemingly blending into the shadows as he left the hospital ward. Ginny kept repeating the monologue in her mind. As soon as the door closed, she silently got out of bed, grabbed some parchment and a quill, and went into the loo, where she wrote down everything she could remember from Snape’s unusual comments. Returning to bed with her notes, Ginny tossed and turned the rest of the night.
Harry left the darkness of the cave and began walking towards the castle in the distance. The sun was emerging from behind the mountains that surrounded the castle, putting part of the structure in light, the rest in shadow. The boy’s body felt rested and mentally he felt at peace with himself after his conversation with his parents. Crowds of people moved around the outside of the castle, but he was still too far away to see any individual faces.
Finally, he approached the castle, not knowing who or what he would find there. Some people smiled in welcome, others frowned and pointed, then would whisper to their neighbours. Harry looked around at the faces, startled by the differing reactions, especially since he had seen no one he recognized.
Why would they know who I am and react so strongly?
Soon, Harry stood on the stairs to the castle. An uncomfortable feeling swept through him, as he felt himself being pulled in different directions. The warm feelings brought on by his parents turned cold, and his calm demeanour twisted into suspicion. The boy stood unmoving on the stairs, feeling empty inside.
Sunlight flooded through the hospital windows the next morning, but it wasn’t the light that woke the young witch. Instead, she sat upright as if jolted by an electrical current when she heard a hoarse, cracking voice ask a question.
“G . . . Ginny?”
Chapter 28: Friends
Author's Notes: Unless the characters hijack the story, this is the penultimate chapter. Don’t worry, you’ll know the direction everyone is going by the end of the story. Well, except for those I don’t want to tie off. After all, life doesn’t come in a neatly wrapped box. Please don’t scream at me.
Tissue warning – you’ll know which scenes.
Thanks to superbeta, cwarbeck, who got the chapter back to me quickly, despite having to battle the evil forces of RL.
Kudos to Dave/Sovran for picking the perfect location for Hermione's home - in Oxford. Since you can't improve on perfection, I used that location, too.
Credit also goes to Paul/bransfolly for a suggestion, which I used when Harry goes to the Great Hall with Ginny late in the chapter. If I were more specific, I'd "spoil" my own chapter!
Hope you enjoy it! -- Jim
“Harry?”
Ginny looked at her best friend in wide-eyed disbelief. As soon as she saw his emerald eyes looking at her, she launched from the bed and hugged him as tightly as she could.
The tears flowed unabated, as Ginny choked out, “You’ve returned.”
The two children finally broke their embrace and stared at each other with ear-to-ear grins. Their hands instinctively found the other’s and intertwined.
“How do you feel?” Ginny asked quietly, hopefully.
Harry’s forehead furrowed in concentration. “Fine now. But I feel like there’s been a war inside me. I remember feeling hot and cold, hyper and tired, angry and like I wanted to hide somewhere. It was really . . . strange . . . because I felt them all at the same time.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“You were really hot at first.” Ginny had to stifle a grin when she remembered Tracey’s joke. “Then when the fever and inside heat broke, you became chilled, but Madame Pomfrey took care of that easily enough. It also seemed like you dreamed a lot.”
A look of concentration again came over Harry’s face. “I did have lots of dreams. I remember talking with my parents a couple of times, but at the end I felt like I was being pulled in different directions. Does that make any sense?”
Ginny quickly nodded her head. “It fits with how you said you felt. Hot and cold, hyper and tired. Do you know what happened to you?”
Harry shook his head. “Not really. I heard several curses, but I couldn’t see anyone, so I used the Circle Shield and Silencing Spell.” His expression became confused. “Then, I felt really hot inside, and everything turned black.”
Ginny nodded. “The headmaster said your shield was cast so quickly it contained the two Stunners, so that’s why you felt hot. Ron, Percy, and the twins got there right after the curses were cast, and they Stunned Malfoy, Parkinson, Bulstrode, Crabbe, and Goyle.”
Harry’s head dropped. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised who did this. What happened to them?”
“Professor Dumbledore has restricted them to Slytherin House. They haven’t been able to leave even for classes or meals. Most of us think he’s been waiting to see how you recovered before he makes a decision on their punishment.”
“I didn’t think they were dumb enough to attack me, especially that soon. I don’t understand why Malfoy acts the way he does. He’s got in trouble so much you’d think he’d learn. What do you think Dumbledore will do?”
Ginny smiled. “Most everyone I’ve talked with hopes he’ll be expelled. I just want to get one Bat Bogey Hex in before leaves.”
Harry began to laugh. “Everyone would love to see that.”
Ginny’s eyes widened, and Harry looked at her curiously. “I forgot to tell Madame Pomfrey you’re awake.”
She turned and raced down to the medi-witch’s office, coming to a skidding stop in front of the door. Seconds later, Pomfrey and Ginny walked back to the bed where Harry was now sitting up, propped up by several pillows.
Madame Pomfrey was wearing one of her rare smiles as she said, “Welcome back, Mr Potter. You had us going for a while there.” She waved her wand over the boy’s body, and her smile remained in place. “With another day’s bed rest and a potion or two, you’ll be able to return to your dorm and classes. We’ve been keeping you well hydrated so please drink two full glasses each hour. Do you have any questions?
The boy shook his head. But as the medi-witch turned to leave, he said, “Thank you, Madame Pomfrey.”
She issued a closed-mouth smile. “You’re welcome, Mr Potter. Keep an eye on him, Miss Weasley. Well hydrated now.”
“I will,” Ginny answered, then she returned her gaze to her best friend. “You heard her, Potter. Drink up.”
Harry grinned at the redhead and downed the glass of water in one continuous gulp. A surprised look came over his face. “How long have I been out?”
Ginny returned the grin. “How long do you think?”
The boy’s face scrunched up in thought. “A day and a half?”
Ginny shook her head. “Not even close.” Her voice changed from teasing to soft and concerned. “Harry, you were out almost four days.”
His eyebrows shot up his forehead as his eyes widened. “Four days?” Then his face fell. “I’m going to be so far behind in my classes.”
“Maybe not,” Ginny said. “Padma and Hermione put together a schedule for people to visit. They read your assignments to you each day and discussed the lessons and homework. We were hoping that somehow the information would sink in. I brought Percy’s first year books. Hermione kept a list of what has been covered in each class. If you want to see if any of it’s familiar, I’ll bring the books over.”
Harry had been staring at Ginny with an increasingly incredulous expression on his face. “I can’t believe they would go to that much work for me.” Ginny began to respond, but the boy continued talking. “They used their free time to visit and help me keep up in classes. I thought . . .” He swallowed hard. “I thought they’d just . . . abandon me, think it was too much work, especially since I was out all that time.”
Ginny looked at the boy with a combination of curiosity and sorrow. “Harry, you mean a lot to them. They wanted to help out. When my parents and I arrived, Daphne, Tracey, and Hannah were with you. I thought they’d be jealous or mean.” She shook her head. “They were the opposite, so nice and accepting of me being here. All they wanted was for you to get better. That’s what everyone wanted.”
Harry seemed to collapse into himself. “I’m not used to that,” he whispered. “Remember how I told you Dudley and his mates would scare off anyone who tried to be friendly to me?” Ginny nodded her head. “The only one he couldn’t scare off was Sammi in pre-school.” His gaze became distant and his voice cold. “Then both she and Miss Rae moved away and never even bothered to return my calls and letters.”
Ginny nodded her head sadly. “I remember you telling me, Harry. But these friends aren’t like that. I’ve met most of them, and they seem to like you for yourself, not due to your reputation.” Ginny grinned. “In fact, Daphne, Tracey, and Hannah think you’re hot.”
Harry goggled at her, doing a fine impression of a red-faced fish, while Ginny laughed loudly. Finally Ginny stopped laughing, and Harry asked, “You’re taking the mickey, aren’t you?”
“Me?” Ginny put on an innocent face. “I wouldn’t tease an invalid.”
Harry huffed and turned his back to the girl, so all she could see was his shaking back and shoulders.
“Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry,” she gasped. “I was just teasing.” She put her hands on his shoulders.
Several seconds later, Harry turned back, still laughing. “Gotcha!”
Ginny’s apologetic expression turned to a scowl, then settled into a wide smile. “Good one, Potter. Regardless, what your history is, these people are good friends.”
“I hope so,” he replied quietly.
At that moment, Hannah and Neville walked into the hospital wing. As soon as they saw Harry was awake and sitting up, they sprinted to his bed.
Hannah hugged him, while Neville patted him on the shoulder and asked, “How do you feel, Harry?”
That was the first of a half dozen questions that repeated most of those Ginny had asked. A thought came to Harry. “Hannah, Neville, could I ask a favour?” Both nodded their heads. “Instead of having to answer the same questions separately to everyone, could you get the word out that everyone can visit after last classes or after dinner, so I can go through this only one more time?”
“Sure, Harry,” Hannah said immediately.
“Lunch is coming up soon,” Neville added. “So we can tell everyone then.”
Hannah grinned from ear-to-ear. “Everyone is going to be so happy.” She turned to Ginny. “Did you tell Harry how we’ve been coming by?”
Ginny smiled. “Yes, and I told him about the lessons and reading. We’re going to go over the books and homework to see how much of it sunk in.”
“Welcome back, Harry,” Neville said. “We’ll see you later.”
“Bye, Harry,” the blonde Hufflepuff said.
Harry waved as the two friends left. “They sure seemed happy,” he said to Ginny after they had left the ward.
“When we all get together later, you’ll see that everyone will be overjoyed,” Ginny replied. She poured another glass of water and handed it to him. “Drink up.”
When Harry turned to place the now empty glass on his bedside table, he saw Madame Pomfrey walking towards them with a phial in her hand. “I have a Strengthening Solution for you, Mr Potter.”
He downed the contents in one swallow and tried to keep from reacting to the foul taste. After clearing his throat, Harry asked, “Will I get out tomorrow morning?”
“I’ll take one last look at you in the morning. If you pass my inspection, I will release you.”
“Madame Pomfrey?” Ginny asked. “Harry asked Hannah and Neville to have everyone come either after the last classes today or after dinner, so he wouldn’t have to repeat what happened to each individual. I hope that’s okay.”
The medi-witch thought for a minute. “Frankly, that’s better than having a stream of visitors all hours. Yes, that’s a good alternative.” Her voice softened. “Thank you for advising me.”
When Pomfrey departed, Ginny pulled out the Defence book. “Let’s see if anything sunk into that head of yours, Potter.”
Ginny smiled at her friend and he returned it.
About an hour later, Harry and Ginny were startled by a “crack” close to Harry’s bed. Both kids stared at the exceedingly self-conscious house elf looking back at them.
“Mimsy!” Harry said. “Ginny, this is Mimsy, who works here at Hogwarts. I met her . . . earlier. Mimsy, this is Ginny Weasley.”
“Hi, Mimsy,” the redhead said.
“Hello, Mistress Ginny,” replied the house elf in her usual high squeaky voice. She looked at Harry. “I is bringing you special elf-brewed tea. It’s to make you better.” She held out a tea cup and saucer.
Ginny took the cup and saucer and passed them to Harry, who replied, “Thank you, Mimsy. That is really nice of you.” He looked at her curiously. “How did you know I had woken up?”
Mimsy smiled. “House elves knows almost everything in Hogwarts, Harry Potter.”
He returned the smile. “I’ve just taken Strengthening Solution. Will that cause any problems with your tea?”
“No’s, Harry Potter. The tea is making it better.”
“Great!” He took a sip. “This is good. Thank you, Mimsy.”
The house elf bowed slightly. “I be bringing more tonight. You’ll be feeling better,” she said confidently.
“I’ll be here,” the boy said, as the elf popped out of sight with another “crack.”
Harry quickly finished the tea, and as he set the cup and saucer on the bed stand, the door to the hospital opened and Albus Dumbledore came in, a relieved smile on his face.
“Mr Potter, it is so good to see awake and alert. Miss Weasley, you are going to make Madame Pomfrey jealous of your bedside manner.”
Ginny both smiled and blushed at the headmaster’s compliment. “Thank you, sir,” she said.
“How are you feeling, Harry?” Dumbledore asked, as he conjured an overstuffed chair and sat down.
“Much better. Thank you,” he replied. “Mimsy just brought some special elf tea, and it seems to have helped the Strengthening Solution to work faster.” Harry looked at the headmaster in question.
“Harry, you may know that elf magic is somewhat different than ours. Professor McGonagall shared with me that you seem to be gaining a friend in Mimsy. If she says it will help you, I have no doubt.” The elderly wizard peered over his half-moon glasses at his student. “If you can make friends with Mimsy or other house elves, you may be able to learn something about their magic. We wizards have overlooked their entire race, despite the fact that they can be very powerful in their own right.” He smiled. “You seem to have passed their first test.”
“Why do you say that, Headmaster?” Harry asked.
“Simply because Mimsy brought something to help you without being asked. That is a very telling action for a house elf, and it tells me she trusts you, so you are to be commended, Harry.”
He turned and looked at Ginny. “Your return to health has certain ramifications for Miss Weasley.”
Both children’s eyes widened.
Harry asked, “Can’t she stay longer?”
Ginny’s eyes grew moist.
“That’s what I want to discuss.” He looked at the young witch and wizard. “Harry, you have already developed friendships with many of our most outstanding first year students.” Both Ginny and Harry looked downcast at the remark. “Yet, none were able to bring you back. It took Miss Weasley to do that.”
Their expressions brightened.
“I also know from my observations, Professor McGonagall’s comments, and discussions with Miss Weasley’s parents and brothers that you two share a closeness that is unusual at your ages.”
Both children leaned towards the headmaster, hands intertwined as usual.
“Further, I have learned that you, Miss Weasley, have been studying along with our first years, and two of our top students have told me your work is exemplary.”
Ginny blushed again.
“For all of these reasons, I want to ask your parents if they will permit you to start your Hogwarts education a year early, if you are amenable.”
Harry and Ginny stared at the headmaster, not willing to trust their own ears. Several seconds later, Ginny exclaimed, “Yes, yes, yes!” Then, she literally dove at her friend and wrapped him in a Weasley hug. Harry’s arms quickly encircled the petite redhead. When they broke their embrace, both were smiling widely, as was the headmaster.
“I will contact your parents, then, Miss Weasley. As soon as I receive their decision, I will let both of you know.”
“Thank you, Headmaster,” both children chorused, as he Vanished the chair and began walking towards the door.
Harry caught his eye and mouthed ‘I’ll pay.’ The headmaster nodded his understanding and left the ward.
Before Harry and Ginny had a chance to discuss the new development, Hagrid ducked through the door, a huge grin splitting his face and his black eyes sparkling.
Stopping at the end of the bed, he said, “We was so worried abou’ yeh, Harry. I can’ believe Malfoy would do sumthin’ like tha’.”
“I’m feeling fine now, Hagrid. What do you think will happen to Malfoy?”
“Don’ know, but the headmaster was worried sick. He’ll prob’ly decide now tha’ yeh are awake agin.” He finally looked at Ginny, as if he hadn’t noticed her before. “Yeh mus’ be another Weasley.”
Ginny grinned at the big man. “My name is Ginny. I’m the youngest in the family.”
“It’s nice ta meet yeh, Ginny Weasley. Well, I should be goin’. Yeh feel better, Harry.”
“I will Hagrid. Thanks for visiting.”
The big man waved his massive hand and walked out of the hospital.
Ginny picked up the Transfiguration book, just as movement on the far side of the large room caught Harry’s attention. A second later, Hedwig landed on his shoulder and rubbed her head against his cheek. Harry closed his eyes and a small smile lit his face. With a light nip on Harry’s ear, Hedwig signalled that the massage was over.
Harry held out his arm and the snowy owl floated down. Harry scratched the top of her head between her two ears, then moved to the side of her head, just below her ear. Hedwig leaned into Harry’s hand and closed her eyes. Harry finished by stroking Hedwig’s back feathers.
He held the owl in front of him so he could talk to her. “I’m loads better now, Hedwig. Nothing to worry about. I may even get out tomorrow.” Hedwig bobbed her head in understanding.
With a quick hop, the owl landed on Ginny’s shoulder, surprising the young witch and the owl’s owner.
“Well, aren’t you a pretty girl? Have you come to make sure Harry is being taken care of properly?” Hedwig again bobbed her head, and Ginny laughed.
Hedwig nibbled on Ginny’s ear as a way to say goodbye and flew out the window across from Harry and Ginny.
Ginny grinned at Harry. “She’s the most amazing owl I’ve ever seen.”
Harry smiled, too. “When I was shopping with Professor McGonagall, it was like Hedwig told me to pick her. Sounds strange, but it’s like I could hear her.”
“I’m not surprised. You two are closer than I’ve ever seen anyone with an owl.”
“Harry? Ginny?”
The two children looked towards the door. “Hi, Professor Lupin,” Harry called out, mimicking Ginny’s greeting.
“I’m glad to see that you are feeling better,” the professor said when he arrived at Harry’s bedside. “I came by a couple of times, but, of course, you were still in that coma.”
“Just woke up this morning. Ginny snores, and she woke me up.” Harry grinned madly.
The redhead was seated on the bed next to the patient, so it was quite easy for her to lightly smack him on the shoulder. “For your information, Mr Potter, I do not snore. You woke yourself up.”
Remus smiled at the byplay between the two smiling children. “Do you remember much from when you were out, Harry?”
“Not a lot. But my parents were in the dreams a couple of times, and I think Ginny was in one,” the girl’s head snapped up, “but everyone else was pretty hazy.”
Ginny asked, “Do you remember much about the dream I was in?”
“Yeah, I was wandering around a meadow, and you tried to help me find my way.” He smiled at the redhead. “Of course, I had no idea where I was going. Oh, and the Potter Philosophy book was in there. I was really mad I had to do what that third Potter said, and I yelled at my parents when they showed up the first time.”
“Harry,” Remus asked, “where did you get the Potter book?”
“When Ginny and I and her family went to my houses. Ginny found the book in the manor house library. I’ve read a little bit of it.”
Remus looked concerned. “Harry, that book may not be appropriate for you, if you’re going to try to do what those philosophies say.”
“Why not?”
“Several reasons,” Remus replied, sounding like a teacher. “First, most of them were entered into the book many centuries ago. Many things have changed since then. The second reason is that the book is meant for adults who already have achieved their position in society and have taken over the title of Lord of the Potter Family. Need I state you’re only eleven? The actions and responsibilities espoused are not appropriate for even a mature and talented eleven-year old.”
“But I felt something when I read some of the passages,” Harry said quietly.
“I understand, Harry,” Remus replied gently. “It connects you to the family you never knew existed until now. That is where the benefit of the book lies. Some of the entries also reflect the thoughts of educated noblemen of that time. But Harry, they are not a ‘to do’ list for you.”
Harry nodded his head, while deep in thought. “I did want to do what the third Potter talked about. I thought I had to act that way. A lot of what he said seemed to apply to me.”
“Would you give me an example?” Remus asked.
“Sure,” Harry immediately replied. “He talked about being placed on a road and not complaining about it. I figured that was like Dumbledore placing me with the Dursleys. He also wrote about being the solution for some problem and not to complain about having to do that. That seemed to apply, too, but I’m not sure how.”
Remus winced at the last example but quickly replaced it with an interested expression. “So, you can see how vexing it is trying to figure out what these Potters are talking about.” Remus paused for a moment, lost in thought. “Harry, if I may make a suggestion,” the boy nodded his head, “it is perfectly fine to read the book as a historical document, but don’t feel like they are writing directly to you. That way you can gain glimpses into your ancestors and their thoughts, but not be made to feel like you have to do what they are espousing. Does that make sense?”
Harry thought about his professor’s suggestion. “That does make sense. I can still learn, but I don’t have to take what they say personally.”
Remus smiled. “That’s it!”
Ginny asked, “Harry, was there any time in your dreams when you were upset about having to do these things?”
“Yes,” he answered immediately. “It made me really mad, almost like my life was already set out before me.”
“There was one time,” Ginny explained, “when you were thrashing around like you were really upset. I bet that’s when you were thinking about that dream.”
Mimsy’s arrival was again announced with a “crack.” “Here is your dinnerses, Harry Potter and Mistress Ginny.”
Ginny moved quickly to take the two trays from the elf. “Thank you, Mimsy. That is very considerate of you. Have you met Professor Lupin?”
Harry said, “Professor Lupin teaches Defence here. He was a good friend of my parents, and he’s our friend, too.” He gestured at Ginny.
Mimsy curtsied, then popped out of the ward.
“I had better be going to the Great Hall, then,” Remus said. “I hadn’t realized it was that time already.”
“Thanks for coming by, Professor,” Harry said. “And thanks for the information about the book. I was taking it too seriously.”
“My pleasure, Harry,” Remus replied. “Just use it to learn about your family, and you’ll be fine.” Harry nodded. “Ginny, it was nice seeing you again.”
She smiled. “You too, Professor.”
Moments later, they were eating dinner — roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, candied carrots, cold pumpkin juice, and chocolate cake for dessert. Harry ate like he hadn’t had anything solid in days, and Ginny nearly kept up with him.
“Harry, how are you feeling now?” Susan Bones asked the first and most obvious question that was on everyone’s mind.
The young wizard looked at all of his friends, who were sitting or standing around his hospital bed. “I’m feeling much better, Susan, thanks to everyone here and Madame Pomfrey.” Ginny was standing next to Harry. He reached over and squeezed her hand. “I really appreciate everything you did — the visits, reading the assignments, explaining the lessons.” His eyes moved around the group, briefly stopping on each individual. “I’m really lucky to have friends like you.”
He smiled as he observed his friends react to his words. Many of them smiled back at him, nodding their thanks. Others ducked their heads in embarrassment. A few had tears moisten their eyes, and sniffles could be heard among the magical group.
Once everyone had regained their composure, Padma asked, “Harry, do you remember anything from the reading and class assignments we talked about while you were out?”
Harry grinned. “You knew that question would come from a Ravenclaw, right?” Once everyone stopped laughing, he continued. “Ask me a question.”
Padma returned his grin. “What are the ingredients and procedures in making a Swelling Solution?”
“Pufferfish eyes are the key ingredient. You need two of those . . .”
Neville asked a question from Herbology, Anthony Goldstein one from Defence, and so on, until Harry had answered questions from each of his courses and what had been studied.
By the time the mini-test was completed, the group was clapping, whistling, and cheering in excitement. Harry smiled from ear to ear.
Ron exclaimed, “So all that reading wasn’t a waste of time.”
While everyone laughed again, Harry watched as Hermione started to reprimand Ron, then smiled to himself when she closed her mouth without saying a word, and instead, just shook her head slightly.
“Will this keep you from practicing Quidditch?” Everyone looked at Oliver, while the three Gryffindor Chasers shook their heads at their captain’s one-track mind. The twins rolled their eyes.
“Madame Pomfrey will check me again tomorrow morning, and if everything is alright, I’ll be released.” Before anyone could respond, Harry added, “Oh, I have some other news for you. The headmaster has asked Ginny to stay at Hogwarts as a student. We’ll find out tonight if it’s okay with her parents.”
A chorus of well wishes and welcomes washed over the rapidly reddening young witch. When the noise calmed down, she said quietly, “You’ve all been so nice. It’s easy to see why Harry wanted you as his friends.”
Tracey asked, “You’ll let us know if you can stay?”
Ginny smiled. “As soon as I hear.”
The sound of Madame Pomfrey’s office door opening told the group that it was time to go. After a quick round of goodbyes, they left, and the medi-witch gave Harry two more potions, while encouraging him to continue drinking plenty of water.
Harry watched as his friends left the hospital ward, waving good night to Ron and Hermione, who were the last two to leave. The smile on his face immediately faded and turned into an expression of concern when he looked at Ginny.
“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.
“I don’t know why you want me up here,” she replied in a small voice. Harry’s head jerked up, but she didn’t notice because her chin had sunk to her chest. “What do you see in me? You can do so much better than me as a friend. Daphne is beautiful and Tracey and Hannah are so cute. Hermione and the Ravenclaws are brainiacs. Katie and the other two Chasers already have bodies. And everyone thinks you’re wonderful. I’m just poor Ginny Weasley. Nothing special about me. I’m plain looking, have this horrible red hair and freckles, and I’m not that smart. Look at me. I’m skinny as a stick.”
Harry looked at his friend as if she had suddenly begun to speak in Greek. Suddenly, it dawned on him. Ginny doesn’t think she compares to these other girls.
“Ginny?” he whispered. “To me, you’re perfect.”
Ginny’s head snapped up, and she stared at Harry with round, blurry eyes. A second later, she launched herself at him, hugging him tightly, desperately, while her tears dampened his shirt.
He began whispering, “You’re the most important person in the world to me. I couldn’t imagine not being with you. You’re my best friend, Gin.”
She snuggled closer, and her crying soon calmed down to an occasional hiccough. “You really mean all of that, Harry?”
“Yes. I’d never lie to you, Ginny,” he whispered.
“Am I being silly?” she asked in a small voice.
Harry laughed involuntarily. “Is this a test?”
Ginny raised her head off his chest. “You’ve already passed.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Merlin, I hope I can stay.” She moved up, so she was sitting on the side of the bed.
“That would be so great,” Harry replied enthusiastically.
Ginny stared intently into her best friend’s smiling green eyes. “Thank you, Harry. I felt out of place. All your friends already know each other, and they get along so well. I felt like a stranger.”
“They’re your friends, too, Ginny,” Harry replied. “They like you already, and they’re happy you helped me out of that coma.” He smiled into her glistening brown eyes. “I’m really glad you’re here, and I hope your parents let you stay.”
One hand sought the other, and fingers laced when they found each other. Ginny momentarily looked like she was a million miles away. Then she perked up with her eyes alight and a smile spreading across her face. “Let’s look at the Potter book again and see if we can put it to better use.”
She pulled it off the bedside table, without waiting for a response. “I saw that you had marked some of the comments, when I glanced through it earlier.” She leafed gently through the ancient parchment pages. Here’s a good one,” and she began to read the passage aloud.
“A Potter tries to understand the point-of-view of other people, especially those with whom he may initially disagree. A thorough examination of the other person’s philosophy, thought processes, and previous experience may yield a more comprehensive understanding of the topic being debated. This may lead to a better understanding of why there is a disagreement and point to potential solutions to the debate, misunderstanding, or argument.”
When Ginny finished reading the paragraph, she looked at Harry.
“Dumbledore,” he said quietly.
She nodded her head. “That’s what I thought, too. It’s probably worth trying to figure out why he’s done some of the things he has.” She grinned. “It’s certainly better than blowing things up.”
Harry returned her grin. “Prat.”
“Yup,” she replied.
The hospital door opening stopped the teasing exchange, as the two children looked with interest to see the headmaster, Ginny’s parents, and Professor McGonagall enter the room. When they arrived at Harry’s bed, Molly Weasley immediately wrapped her only daughter in one of her maternal hugs. Harry noticed the witch’s eyes were damp.
Mr Weasley walked over to the other side of the bed and slowly extended his hand towards his newest son. “How are you doing, lad?”
Harry immediately grasped the wizard’s larger hand. “I’m feeling a lot better, Mr Weasley. Thank you for letting Ginny come up here. It’s really helped.”
Arthur Weasley smiled at the small boy. “We thought her presence might help you.” He looked at his wife and daughter, who returned his gaze. “We have spoken with the headmaster and professor, and Ginny, it’s become pretty obvious that you belong at Hogwarts at this time. You can stay.”
Both children stared at the wizard, too numb to process the good news. Seconds later, they looked at each other and exploded into an exuberant hug.
“I get to stay here with you,” Ginny gushed.
“We’ll see each other every day,” Harry responded.
“We’ll have classes together.”
“We can study in the common room or library.”
“I can fly your Nimbus,” Ginny grinned.
“Well, I don’t know about that.”
“Prat.”
“Yup,” he replied, grinning at his best friend.
As the kids were hugging, then talking back and forth, they didn’t notice the looks exchanged by the four adults, who were waiting patiently for them to return to earth from their own little world. Finally, Ginny and Harry simultaneously realized there were other people in the room.
Ginny hopped off the bed and hugged her mum again, then moved around the bed to hug her dad.
“Thank you, Mr and Mrs Weasley. It will be great having Ginny up here. She’s already done all the lessons. Hermione and Padma said she’s doing really well, so she won’t have any trouble keeping up.” Harry noticed the stool next to Professor McGonagall, with Merlin, the Sorting Hat, sitting mutely on top of it. “Ginny’s going to be Sorted here?”
“We thought Sorting Miss Weasley here would be easier than having the ceremony before dinner tomorrow night in front of the entire school. We hope that will eliminate many of the questions she will be asked,” the headmaster explained.
“Great!” Harry said.
Professor McGonagall looked at Ginny. “All you have to do is sit on the stool and place the Hat on your head.” The professor smiled. “Don’t be startled if you hear a voice in your head. Sometimes the Hat talks with certain students.” She glanced briefly at Harry.
Ginny walked hesitantly towards the stool and looked back at Harry before sitting on the stool. Harry mouthed, ‘You’ll be fine,’ and smiled.
Ginny exhaled heavily and took the Hat from the professor, closed her eyes, and placed the Hat on her head.
‘Miss Weasley, I’ve been waiting for you.’
“Um, really?”
‘Young lady, you don’t have to speak aloud. Just think what you want to communicate, and I will hear you.’
“Oh, okay.”
‘That’s better. I remember all your brothers and your parents. In fact, I just Sorted Ronald recently. Gryffindors all, but you’re different, aren’t you, Ginevra?’
A scowl quickly crossed the young witch’s face, but she answered with calm thoughts. “I am the only Weasley female in generations.”
‘That’s true, but you have a combination of your family’s talents, plus a good dose of spunk and deviousness. I’m wondering if Slytherin would be a good home for you . . .’
“No! You can’t put me in Slytherin. I’d hate it there. Um, can I say that to you? I don’t mean to be rude.”
Merlin chuckled at the young witch’s comments. ‘You can talk to me any way you want, Miss Weasley. Back to task, you’re very smart, so Ravenclaw also would be a good choice. But there’s another factor at work here, isn’t there Ginny?’
“You know?”
‘Of course, I do.’
“I really should be with Harry. That’s why they asked me to start early.”
‘And?’
“He’s my best friend.”
‘That he is, Ginny.’ The next words were said so all could hear. “Gryffindor!”
Her parents and Harry immediately swept Ginny up in a group hug, while Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall both heaved sighs of relief, not unlike the feeling the Transfiguration Professor had when Harry was Sorted into her House.
When her family finally released Ginny from their hugs, the professors congratulated her on being Sorted into Gryffindor. When Dumbledore and McGonagall finished talking with the new student, Harry approached them.
“May Ginny and I talk with Merlin before you put him away?”
Both professors looked momentarily confused, until Minerva McGonagall asked, “Are you referring to the Sorting Hat?”
Harry smiled. “When I was Sorted we had a long conversation. I asked what his name was, and he told me to select one. I picked Merlin.”
“Yes, certainly, talk with him,” Dumbledore said, with a small smile on his face.
Harry picked up the Hat. “Ginny, c’mon.”
The petite redhead joined Harry, and they sat next to each other on his bed. Harry placed Merlin on their heads, the Hat having expanded to fit snugly over both children.
‘Greetings, Mr Potter, Miss Weasley! May I say that I am very pleased that Miss Weasley has joined you, Harry?’
Harry could feel Ginny stiffen in shock, and she turned to him. Harry said, “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you after this. Okay?”
“Okay,” she answered uncertainly.
Harry thought, “Merlin, I wanted to talk with you about how the students are Sorted.
The Hat laughed, and Ginny jumped again. ‘Miss Weasley, I’m transferring Harry’s thoughts to you, so you’ll know what I’m responding to.’
The girl nodded and the Hat clamped down more firmly to keep from being shaken off. ‘There is no end of surprises from you, is there, Mr Potter? Please ask away.’
“Thanks, Merlin. It seems like the Houses are divided against each other, rather than using their different qualities to work together.”
The Hat answered, ‘Very good, Harry. Miss Weasley, are you acquainted with the problem your friend is talking about?’
“Uh, yes? Harry and my father talked about it.”
‘Your father is a very good person, and so are you, your mother, and brothers. The Founders never intended the Houses to be in conflict with each other, or for their interactions to be so limited and confrontational. You’ve seen the results of such divisiveness already, have you not, Harry?’
Harry’s thoughts immediately went to Draco’s attack on him. “Yes, it seems like the students in each House mainly keep to themselves, but Slytherin and Gryffindor get along the worst.”
‘You’re right. It goes back to the unfortunate falling out Salazar and Godric suffered several years after the school had been founded. They severely disagreed over what types of students should be allowed to study at Hogwarts. That feud seems to have affected their two houses, almost like a curse, since it continues even to this day. Part of the reason the feud exists even after a millennium lies in how I have been instructed to Sort the new students, so those in Slytherin and Gryffindor are virtually predestined to oppose each other. May I assume you two have some new approaches to suggest?’
Both Harry and Ginny laughed. Harry explained, “Well, there are different ways of Sorting the new students, so the ones with the same personalities aren’t in the same Houses.”
Ginny continued, “They could be divided by the year they are in.”
“Or randomly,”Harry added, “like every fourth student goes to Ravenclaw.”
Merlin responded, ‘I understand. What do you want me to do? I have to follow what the Headmaster says, or continue as is, if he says nothing.’
Ginny asked, “You want us to say something, don’t you?”
The Hat laughed. ‘You could have been in Ravenclaw, too, Miss Weasley.’
Harry said, “We thought just getting some of the other students together before they get used to the separation would help. You know, studying, visiting, maybe even eating together. Kind of show it could work. I’ve talked with about ten students who seem interested.”
‘Excellent ideas,’ the Hat exclaimed. ‘If you are looking for my blessings, you have them. Just be aware that you will be battling to overcome something that has been in place for a thousand years. Some people feel they are best served leaving the system the way it is. It will not be easy, and you could easily attract more notoriety and problems than you anticipate.’
Harry and Ginny turned to each other, both looking a bit confused. Harry voiced their question. “What kind of problems are you talking about, Merlin?”
‘Remember, for instance, that all the parents, except for those of Muggle-born students, went to Hogwarts under the House system. How they relate to the school is influenced strongly by that one fact. Same with the professors, by the way, and the Ministry officials also would wonder about any changes you may recommend.’
The two children nodded their understanding, and Ginny said, “We understand now. Merlin, do you have any other advice?”
The Hat laughed. ‘I think that’s enough for now. Just go slowly and understand that it will be a difficult process, if you decide to take on this issue. The two of you are capable, but you must decide if it is the best expenditure of your time and efforts.’
“Thank you, Merlin,” Harry said. “This has helped a lot. Can we talk again if we need to?”
The Hat replied, ‘Always, Harry and Ginny, always. Good luck!’
A few seconds later, they could feel the Hat return to just that. Harry handed Merlin to Professor McGonagall, who looked at them curiously but didn’t ask any questions of the two children.
Dumbledore did, though. “Harry, Ginny, may I inquire as to your conversation with the Sorting Hat?”
Harry explained, “We just asked Merlin about the Houses and how he Sorts the students.”
Ginny smiled. “He’s fun to talk with.”
Dumbledore returned her smile. “Indeed.” He turned to the Weasleys. “Given the hour of the evening, why don’t we have Ginevra spend the night in the hospital again? Then tomorrow she can move her clothes and books to her new dorm.”
Mr and Mrs Weasley exchanged a brief glance, and Arthur said, “We think that would be fine. This way, she can keep a close eye on Harry.” The elder Weasley smiled to himself when the two children both blushed at his statement.
Dumbledore announced that Professor McGonagall and he would be returning to their offices, adding, “Arthur, Molly, I don’t think Poppy would mind if you visit a while longer.”
“Thank you, Albus, Minerva, it was nice seeing you again,” Arthur said. “Oh, we still need to discuss tuition.”
Albus shook his head. “It is waived due to the unusual circumstances. We’re just happy Ginevra can be here. That’s more than enough recompense.”
Both Arthur and Molly looked at the headmaster, conveying that they knew there was more to it than he had disclosed, but neither sought to push the issue.
“We’ll be on our way, then,” Arthur said.
After exchanging hugs and goodbyes, Mr and Mrs Weasley both took deep breaths and left their youngest child and only daughter at Hogwarts a year earlier than they had anticipated.
Professor McGonagall approached Harry’s bed, where Ginny was still seated. “I’m very pleased you could join us, Ginny,” the witch said softly, “and especially that you are a Gryffindor. While I know you have family and friends here, my door is always open should you have any questions, whether academic or of a more personal basis.” She smiled briefly. “Mr Potter knows where my quarters are.”
She extended her hand towards Ginny and Harry, and both children immediately grasped it and squeezed. Harry felt a warm current move from his hand, up his arm and eventually fill his body. He smiled at his professor and Ginny.
“Welcome back, Harry,” she whispered. “I hope to see both of you at breakfast tomorrow morning.”
“Me, too,” he replied, as Ginny nodded her head in agreement.
They both chorused, “Goodnight,” as their professor departed.
Albus Dumbledore watched the exchange with curiosity and remorse. Finally shaking himself, he said, “I’m so glad things are looking up for both of you. Miss Weasley, I will move your clothes and supplies to the Gryffindor first year witch’s dormitory,” he smiled, “where a new bed and wardrobe have mysteriously appeared. Goodnight, Harry, Ginny.”
With a wave of his wand, Ginny’s belongings disappeared, and with a wave of his hand, the headmaster left the hospital.
Madame Pomfrey emerged from her office, with several phials in her hands. “These two are for you, Mr Potter.”
She handed him a frothing green potion and a placid blue one. Harry downed both without question, trying not to make a face at the less than pleasing taste. Ginny had moved off Harry’s bed during this exchange and went over to hers.
“Miss Weasley, this is a very mild sleeping potion. I would imagine your mind will be racing with everything that has happened today. This will ensure you get a good night’s rest for your first day of classes.” Madame Pomfrey’s tone of voice changed to a warmer timbre. “I also want to thank you for the extraordinary job you did in bringing Mr Potter back.” Ginny immediately blushed and her eyes found the floor. “You show a special talent for healing, and while it is very early in your magical education, I wanted to suggest that you might want to consider Healing as a potential career choice. If you are interested in discussing this further, come and see me anytime.”
Ginny looked with wide eyes at the nurse. “Thank you, Madame Pomfrey, I will consider what you’ve said.” Ginny downed the potion in one gulp and concentrated on not making a face at the tart taste.
The medi-witch resumed her professional demeanour. “Good night to both of you. I’ll lower the lights in a few more minutes.”
Ginny hopped off the bed, grabbed her pyjamas from the top drawer in the bedside stand and went into the loo to prepare for bed. Since Harry was already in his bed clothes, he just got under the covers and waited for his friend to return.
A few minutes later, Ginny exited the loo and walked over to Harry’s bed. “Are you ready to face all the students tomorrow? There’ll be lots of attention and questions.” Ginny’s teasing also contained an undercurrent of concern.
Harry started to say something, then stopped and grinned. “If it gets too much, I’ll just ask you to do your Bat Bogey Hex on a couple students, and that’ll stop them from bothering us.”
Ginny grinned at her friend and squeezed his hand. “Prat.”
“Yup,” he replied immediately. “Night, Gin.”
“Goodnight, Harry.”
Minutes later the lights dimmed and shortly after that both children fell asleep.
“You’re awake, too?” Harry asked.
“Woke up about fifteen minutes ago,” Ginny said, “but I’m too excited to go back to sleep. It all happened so quickly. I hope I don’t make a fool of myself in class.”
“You won’t. Remember what Hermione and Padma said? You’ll probably be at the top of our classes. We’ll all help if you need it.”
Ginny exhaled. “Thanks, Harry.”
Both children turned when they heard Madame Pomfrey bustling from her office. Again, she carried several phials in her hands.
“Mr Potter, let me examine you to make sure you are ready to be released.” Without waiting for a response from the boy, the medi-witch waved her wand over the boy’s body, spending the most time over his torso and head. With a sharp nod, she said, “Everything checks out fine, so you are officially released. Before leaving, though, I would strongly recommend that you take a shower.” She raised an eyebrow as Harry reddened in embarrassment.
“I will, Madame Pomfrey,” he assured her. “Thanks for everything you’ve done.”
“You’re quite welcome, Mr Potter. I do hope it will be some time before I see you again.”
Harry couldn’t stop his smile from showing. “Me, too.”
“Why don’t you take your shower now, while I talk with Miss Weasley?” Pomfrey asked.
“Sure.” Harry gathered up his clothes and went into the loo.
Madame Pomfrey walked over to Ginny’s bedside. “How are you feeling this morning, Ginny?”
Ginny paused for a moment, briefly surprised by the nurse’s friendliness and concern. “Pretty nervous. Everything’s new for me, but the other first years have already adjusted.”
Pomfrey nodded. “I think everyone gets a little nervous at the start of each school year. I know I do, and I would wager even the Headmaster feels a little nervous excitement. But you are very lucky. You have Harry and your four brothers here. And don’t forget that you already have lots of friends through Harry’s group. I know they already think highly of you.” She patted the young witch on the hand. “You’ll be fine.” With a smile, she returned to her office.
Harry walked out from the loo, dressed and ready for the day. “Your turn.”
Used to sharing the loo with her brothers and parents, Ginny got ready quickly. Harry cast a Shrinking Spell on their remaining items and put them in a pocket inside his robes. After saying goodbye and thanking Madame Pomfrey once more, Harry and Ginny left the hospital ward and walked towards the Great Hall for breakfast.
Their hands clasped casually as they walked down the corridor, but a questioning expression soon appeared on Harry’s face. “Gin, have you noticed the people in the paintings are whispering to each other?”
“Don’t they do that all the time?” Ginny asked.
“Not really. I wonder if they’re talking about me and the attack,” he mused.
“Or maybe because we’re holding hands,” Ginny teased, a small smile playing on her lips.
Harry smiled. “Good one, Weasley.”
As they turned down another hallway, Harry flinched. “What’s wrong, Harry?” his friend asked, concern evident on her face.
Harry inhaled, then exhaled slowly. “This will sound crazy, but I thought I saw the suit of armour over there start to move his spear.” His head fell forward as he stared at the grey stone floor.
“I’ll keep an eye out. I guess someone could charm the armour or other decorations, or your eyes could have played a trick on you,” Ginny said. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Okay. Th . . . thanks.”
But Ginny noticed Harry moving more cautiously and his head never stopped moving back and forth. “Harry, Draco Malfoy and the others are restricted to their common room. It’s understandable why you’re feeling jumpy, but no one is going to attack you again. No one would be that dumb.”
“I know, Ginny, but there may be other students who don’t like me, not just them.” His voice carried an undercurrent of irritation.
As they approached the large wooden double doors to the Great Hall, Harry slowed down even more. Ginny cast a drying spell on their hands to blot up the moisture from Harry’s perspiration. His forehead also showed the effects of the moisture, with his damp fringe sticking to his forehead. Ginny stopped before they entered the hall.
She looked directly into Harry’s eyes. “Your friends are in there. Nothing bad is going to happen. You’ll be fine. You can do this, Harry. I know you can.”
The boy took a shuddering breath and briefly closed his eyes. “Okay. Let’s go in.”
Two steps into the Great Hall, Harry Potter froze in place. Sweat broke out on his forehead and formed rivulets running down his back, causing his shirt to stick to his skin. He hunched his shoulders forward trying to pull it free from the salty substance. His eyes grew wide, while he canvassed the entire room, looking for any threatening movements, and his grip on Ginny’s hand tightened considerably.
Seconds later, the students in the half-filled hall noticed that he and a redheaded witch had entered the room. A smattering of cheers and applause grew into a crescendo, led by Harry’s group of friends.
As one, they rose from their four separate tables, not noticing Ginny whispering in his ear. “These are your friends, Harry. They are glad you’ve recovered and can go back to your classes. Nothing will happen.” She felt him shudder.
The Gryffindors, led by Hermione, who flew into the surprised boy’s arms, arrived just before the Ravenclaw students — Padma, Su, Anthony, and Cho Chang — joined all of the first year Lions, the Weasley brothers, Oliver, Katie, Angelina, and Alicia.
As students gathered around Harry, Hermione whispered, “All of us are so happy you’re back. I can tell this is hard on you. But we’ll always be with you, Harry. You’ll be safe.” She stared into his frightened eyes and tried to will her warm feelings into him. Stepping back, Hermione squeezed Ginny’s shoulder and mouthed ‘Welcome to Hogwarts.’ Ginny smiled her thanks.
Cho stepped up and put her hands on his shoulders. “We’ve got your back, Harry. And don’t worry; I’m not going to kiss you.”
Harry snorted, and as Cho released his shoulders, they exchanged smiles, a shy, embarrassed one on Harry’s part. “Th . . . thanks, Ch . . . Cho.”
He shook his head and took a deep breath. He looked around the group and saw Susan, Hannah, and Ernie Macmillan from Hufflepuff and Daphne, Tracey, and surprisingly Blaise Zabini from Slytherin. When Harry’s eyes stopped briefly on the wizard, Blaise nodded his head and mouthed ‘Welcome back.’ Harry nodded back in acknowledgement.
Susan and Hannah approached him at the same time Daphne and Tracey did. But the two Slytherin witches went directly to Ginny and wrapped her in welcoming hugs. Harry overheard them reassuring Ginny and offering their friendship. The frozen, almost petrified, feeling that had overtaken him began to thaw slightly when he heard their kind words.
Hannah and Susan took his right hand in theirs, since Ginny had already claimed his left hand. Susan said, “We’re so glad you’re back, Harry. Let us know if you need help in anything.”
He smiled, trying to accept the good feelings from her words and those of the others. “Thanks, Susan.”
Hannah issued a dazzling smile. “You’ve been missed . . . uh, by everybody.” She coloured slightly.
“I’ve missed you guys, too, Hannah.”
His eyes swept the group. “Can we sit down? I’m starving.” He looked at the Gryffindor table. “There’s plenty of room at our table, if you want to join us.”
The students from the other three Houses looked around at each other, and with the support of the Gryffindors, all accepted the invitation. Like a rugby scrum the group moved towards the Gryffindor table, before splitting into two and moving up to the far end of the table, close to the professors’ table.
As Harry and his friends sat down, he looked up at the head table and noticed that almost all of the professors were looking at him or other members of the group. Harry took a deep breath and looked directly at Albus Dumbledore. His tight muscles relaxed when he saw a smile on the old man’s face and a look of acceptance. Harry smiled at the headmaster and received a nod in acknowledgement.
Professor McGonagall rose from her chair and began to walk around the table. While she was doing that Harry noticed Remus smiling at him, caught his professor’s eye, and smiled back at him. Professor Snape nodded when Harry’s eyes fell on him, and Harry returned the gesture, noting that the professor did not have his normal sneer in place. Filius Flitwick waved a cheery ‘Good morning,’ and Professor Sprout smiled at him. Finally, Harry thought he saw a few tear streaks on Hagrid’s cheeks that disappeared into his bushy black beard.
He called out, “Alrigh’, Harry?”
Harry grinned. “Yes, thanks, Hagrid.”
Professor McGonagall arrived and kneeled between Harry and Ginny, who were still holding hands. “Miss Weasley,” the professor said in her teaching voice, “here is your schedule. You will find it matches that of Harry, your brother, Hermione, and all the other first years in your House.” Her voice lowered considerably so only Ginny and Harry could hear. “Remember, my door is always open to you. We are very pleased you are here.”
As her Head of House stood up, Ginny said, “Thank you, Professor, for everything.”
McGonagall nodded sharply and returned to the head table.
As the students began serving themselves, the banter began. “Imagine, my brilliant brother, our widdle Ginnykins is at Hogwarts already.”
“It brings a tear to my eye.”
“I’ll bring more than that if you two don’t can it,” Ginny said with a faux serious expression on her face.
“Threatening upperclassmen already,” George said, shaking his head.
“We’ve taught her well, brother mine,” Fred replied.
The group laughed at the exchange between the siblings.
Su Li looked at Harry. “Now I know how wrong I was in my guess about you making friends in all the Houses.”
The others laughed, while Ginny looked at Harry for an explanation. He whispered, “Su thought I was searching for a girlfriend.”
Both children turned bright red, and the group laughed even louder.
Oliver couldn’t hold back any longer. “Are you cleared to play Quidditch?”
Harry momentarily debated whether to tease his Captain, but he finally decided Oliver was so intense about the sport he would have a heart attack. “Madame Pomfrey put no restrictions on my release.”
A small cheer went up from the Gryffindors in the group and quickly made its way down the two benches, with the cheers moving like a wave towards the shore.
When the noise settled down to its normal level, Harry looked around the group to catch their attention. “I can’t thank you guys enough or put into words how much your actions and support mean to me. I really can’t believe you all spent hours helping me with the assignments, when you didn’t even know I could hear you.”
“Could you hear us?” Tracey asked hesitantly.
“I couldn’t hear you, like we hear each other now. But I know all the stuff you read . . .”
“As you showed when you correctly answered all of our questions,” Padma interjected.
“Exactly. I’m sure some of you could figure out how we did that.” He looked at Hermione and the Ravenclaws. “But it worked, so you’ve saved me a lot of studying.” Harry inhaled and held his breath for several moments before releasing it. “There are two other things I need your help with.” Everyone leaned forward. “I’m still a little jumpy.” He winced. “It was . . . tough . . . walking here from the hospital. It’s not that I don’t trust you guys, but I’m not comfortable yet, so if I react to something, you’ll know why.”
Everyone in the group nodded their understanding. Anthony spoke first. “Harry, that’s understandable and a normal reaction when someone has been attacked in such an underhanded way.”
Ron said, “All of us,” he gestured to the first year Gryffindors, “are in all of your classes, so you’ll have people with you all the time.”
“And whenever you leave the common room, we will accompany you,” Percy promised. “If anyone is dumb enough to try again, we’ll use curses stronger than Stunners.” The twins and Ron nodded. Percy grinned and added. “Plus, Ginny seems to be attached to you, and no one will want to mess with you when she’s around.”
In a flash, Ginny had her wand pointed at Percy’s nose. “Mucosa . . .” A wicked grin split her face when Percy leaned back so far he almost fell off the bench.
Ginny returned her wand to her inside pocket, as the others first stared at her lightning reactions, then began to laugh loudly at Percy’s near pratfall.
“See what I mean?” Percy said, as he righted himself and smiled at his sister. “Thanks for stopping, Ginny.” He looked around the group. “You do not want to be on the receiving end of her Bat Bogey Hex.”
Hermione looked at her watch and said, “I hate to break this up, but we should be leaving for our first classes.”
The group got up and walked out of the hall and down the main corridor. As the members of each House split off, they wished Harry and Ginny ‘good luck’ among other well wishes, and some of the students patted them on the back or squeezed their shoulder or hand. Harry again felt the same warming sensation, as if their positive feelings were trying to overcome the darkness created by the attack.
The Gryffindors hurried to the Tower to get their Potions and Defence books, while the three Slytherins descended the stairs to the dungeons. Entering the dank Potions classroom, Harry noted Daphne, Tracey, and Blaise had sat in the middle row, effectively forming a buffer between the remaining Slytherins and the Gryffindors.
The sound of the classroom door opening and banging closed caused the students to turn around to see who had entered the room. Instead of a late arriving student, they saw the swirling black robes and briskly paced entrance of their Potions Professor, Severus Snape. He walked to the front of the class, without a word, and his eyes swept across the assembled students, ending with a curious expression forming on his face.
“I see you have . . . distributed . . . yourselves differently today. That is very . . . interesting.” He briefly regarded the three buffering students, then addressed the class. “I have two comments before we begin our lesson.”
He turned and looked directly at Ginny, whose cheeks turned red but her eyes didn’t waiver from the professor. “Miss Weasley, welcome to first year Potions. I have heard very good comments about your academic abilities and hope you follow in the steps of your three older brothers. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask me, though you have excellent help surrounding you.” He glanced briefly at Hermione and Harry.
Startled by the professor’s compliments, Ginny managed to say, “Thank you, Professor.”
Snape nodded in her direction and continued speaking. “It is good to see you back in class, Mr Potter. I trust you have made a full recovery.” The professor paused long enough for Harry to nod in the affirmative. “Good. On behalf of Slytherin House, I would like to apologize for the actions of the five students who have been identified as your attackers. I trust that they do not represent the rest of the House.” The professor looked at each of the remaining Slytherin students, his gaze remaining the longest on Theodore Nott. “I understand that through the efforts of certain students, you have managed to remain current in your studies. I find this a remarkable achievement.
“Would those students who helped Mr Potter please raise their hand? That will be five points each to Miss Granger, Miss Weasley, and Mr Weasley of Gryffindor, and five points to Miss Davis and Miss Greengrass of Slytherin. My compliments to each of you for the friendship and support you showed Mr Potter. I also will do the same for the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students. The last award goes to Mr Potter — twenty points for being able to study as well in a coma as he does while awake.”
The students stared at their normally taciturn teacher, not believing what they had just heard. Finally, Seamus’ snigger set off the class, and they began to laugh loudly. Their professor allowed the corners of his mouth to upturn slightly.
The class that followed was as good as the second and third lessons Harry had attended before his hospitalization.
*****
After dinner that night, Ron, Harry, and the twins went down to the Quidditch pitch to fly, and for the Weasleys, to get a chance to use Harry’s highly popular Nimbus. Ginny and Hermione were studying by themselves at a table in the common room.
“I think Harry was nervous the entire day but didn’t want to show it,” Ginny announced out of the blue.
Hermione looked up from her Defence book, marked the page, and closed the book. Gazing at the far wall for a few moments, she finally replied, “I think you’re right, Ginny. I would imagine he doesn’t want to let any of us down. Frankly, I was amazed he admitted he was nervous about being attacked.”
Ginny nodded her head. “Me, too. At least it shows he’s making progress. For the longest time he wouldn’t talk about himself at all. Probably a result of growing up with his relatives.”
Hermione looked at Ginny, a thoughtful expression on her face. “It was pretty horrible there?”
“Yeah,” the redhead replied wistfully. “He hasn’t said much, but I still got the impression he was mistreated from the time Professor Dumbledore left him there.”
“Which is one of the main reasons Harry doesn’t trust the headmaster,” Hermione concluded.
Ginny straightened up so quickly it appeared she had been jolted with electricity. “That’s it, Hermione!” The words tumbled from the redhead’s mouth. “Harry has mentioned several times now, including last night, how he finds it hard to trust people . . .”
“He even brought it up today when he was explaining his nervousness,” Hermione interjected.
“Exactly. Anyhow, he mentioned the only friends he had before us were his pre-school teacher, Miss Rae, and a classmate named Samantha Stephens. As if the Dursleys hadn’t done enough to him, both of them moved around Christmas break. Despite promising him, they never responded to any of his letters or phone messages. Harry’s had trouble trusting anyone since. On top of that, Ron and the twins tried to prank me the night before they and Harry left for Hogwarts. Harry got caught in it and literally exploded. He reverted to his previous non-talking shell. It was horrible. Hermione, you have no idea how far he’s come in the past month and a half. If we could find out from his teacher and friend what happened, maybe we could help him get through this more easily.” Ginny paused and took several deep breaths.
Hermione’s medium brown eyes lit with fire. “That’s an excellent idea, because that’s probably where it started. Can you imagine the very first friends he makes essentially abandoned him? And this happened after his parents abandoned him through no fault of their own, and the headmaster abandoned him with the Dursleys.” Hermione shook her head. “Okay. We need to know where they live.”
“Harry said that Miss Rae moved to Cornwall to take care of her parents, and Sammi’s family moved to Manchester due to her dad’s transfer.”
Hermione looked puzzled. “Something bothers me, especially about the teacher. Why would she befriend Harry, promise she’d stay in contact, then not do that? That doesn’t seem right. I wonder if there’s another explanation.”
“That’s what we need to find out,” Ginny replied.
Hermione began to make notes on a piece of parchment. When she finished, she smiled at Ginny. “I think I’ve got it all down here. Basically, we need their phone numbers, and a place where I can call them, because Hogwarts has no telephones. I think I can determine whether they intentionally ignored him or something else stopped the communication. If it was something else, I’ll explain why I think it’s important for them to meet Harry, something along the lines of Harry just having gone through a traumatic event that has caused him to distrust everyone and hope they understand how important it is for him to understand they did not abandon him. If they agree, then I’ll ask that they come to my house in Oxford and tell Harry that my parents have invited you two to dinner. Of course, if they did abandon him, then we’ll drop the idea.” Hermione looked up at Ginny. “How does that sound?”
By that time, Ginny was grinning at her new friend. “You like doing stuff like this, don’t you?”
Hermione’s cheek coloured a soft pink. “Well, yes. I do enjoy researching and putting plans together. I think I’m pretty good at it.”
“Good?” Ginny snorted in a decidedly unlady-like manner. “You’re bloody brilliant, Hermione.”
The older girl blushed again. “Thanks, Ginny. Should we see if we can discuss this with Professor McGonagall before the boys get back?”
Ginny lit up. “Definitely!”
“I’m so excited to see my parents again,” Hermione said, while fidgeting on a couch in the common room. Professors McGonagall and Lupin should be here any minute to take us outside the gates, because . . .”
“You can’t Apparate in Hogwarts,” Ginny and Harry chorused, then started laughing. After making a huffing sound, Hermione grinned and joined them in laughing.
All three children wore Muggle-style clothing, jeans and jumpers, since they were going to a Muggle neighbourhood. A few minutes later, the professors arrived, and they escorted the three students down the road that connected the castle with the entrance gates.
“Harry, Ginny, I’ll Side-Along Apparate both of you directly to the Grangers’ house,” Professor Lupin explained. “Professor McGonagall will take Hermione. Since neither of us has been to Hermione’s house, we are Apparating using coordinates. Both Professor McGonagall and I will Disillusion ourselves before we Apparate, so the neighbours won’t see us. We’ll cover the front and back of the house. Neither of us think there is the slightest chance of any trouble. Nonetheless, it’s better to be cautious.”
Harry said, “Thanks for doing this. I can’t imagine it’s much fun just standing out there.”
Remus arched an eyebrow. “It’s not,” he said dryly, “but you three are worth it.”
By that time, the two professors and three students had arrived at the gates. When they were outside the wards, Professor McGonagall addressed her students. “When you Apparate, you will feel like you are being pulled through a hose. The feeling does not last for long, but I wanted to forewarn you. Any questions?”
When no questions were asked, she said, “Then Professor Lupin and I will Disillusion ourselves now. Hermione, hold on to my arm, once I’m invisible. Harry and Ginny do the same with Professor Lupin.”
Several seconds later, the group found themselves standing on the brick walkway in front of a picture perfect two-story cottage that was extensively landscaped with thick areas of grass, boarded by shrubs, flowers and several types of trees. Both Harry and Ginny looked around the yard with great interest, while Hermione wore the biggest smile they had seen on her.
The front door opened, and Hermione sprinted towards her parents, who had their arms open, waiting to hug their daughter. Both Harry and Ginny hung back to give the family some privacy. Harry heard footsteps moving away from them, and he imagined one of the professors was going into the backyard, while the other would remain out front.
“Hermione looks just like her mum,” Ginny whispered.
“With the same bushy brown hair,” Harry said, “but no long teeth in front.”
Ginny giggled, putting her hand over her mouth. “Both of her parents are nice looking.”
“Yeah, and they look smart. Hermione didn’t have a chance.”
Ginny’s giggles increased. “Stop that, Potter.”
Hermione turned and waved for her two friends to join them. “Harry, Ginny, these are my parents, John and Jane Granger. Mum and Dad, this is Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter.”
Both parents smiled at their daughter’s friends and extended their hands. Mrs Granger said, “Welcome to our house. We’re very pleased you accepted Hermione’s invitation. In her letters home, she’s talked highly about both of you.”
Mr Granger opened the door wider. “Why don’t we go into the living room, so we can visit for a while before having dinner?”
The large living room was to the left of the entry hall. The adjacent dining room was open to the living room, and Harry imagined the kitchen was behind that. Glancing around the room, Harry felt it reflected the elder Grangers perfectly, with its polished wood floors, thick area rugs, classy but comfortable furniture, complementary accessories, lots of bookcases, and many family pictures. It was obvious to Harry that a real family lived there.
Matching couches flanked the fireplace and faced each other, separated by an intricately carved wood table that had a marble top in various shades of brown, creams, and subtle touches of gold. Harry, Ginny, and Hermione sat on one couch and her parents on the other.
“Harry,” Mr Granger said, “we understand you recently were released from the school hospital. Knowing what put you there, I would imagine it would be hard to trust people after that.”
Harry briefly squeezed his eyes closed, surprised by the question. “It is hard. It was similar to what I went through before. I was nervous the first couple of days back. But so many people helped me, including our professors, that it’s getting better each day.”
“Harry, do you trust me?” Ginny asked quietly.
Harry looked at her, even more shocked by her question than he had been with Mr Granger’s. “Of course I do. Why do you ask?”
Ginny took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Hermione and I have done something that we think will really help, but we need you to listen, not react and leave. Will you promise you’ll trust me and listen?”
Harry stared at his friend for several moments. “I don’t understand what you’re asking, but I’ll listen to whatever you have to say, because I do trust you.” He shrugged, trying to get rid of the funny feeling Ginny’s request had given him.
Ginny’s eyes pulled away from Harry’s and looked past and slightly behind him. Harry and the two girls were sitting so their backs were to the dining room and kitchen beyond. When Harry turned around slightly to see where Ginny was looking, he froze. Thought after thought raced through his mind. Some were positive; others much less so.
“That’s rude!”
“Do you want to walk home together?”
“You’re my best friend.” . . . “You’re my first friend.”
“We’re moving, Harry.”
“You can visit us during Spring Break.”
“I’ll write and call you.”
“Why hasn’t she written me, not even a Christmas card?” . . . “No letters, no calls. Having friends hurts too much.”
Ginny took his hand and laced her fingers through Harry’s. Her eyes locked on his and she leaned towards him. “You’ll learn what happened. Trust me.”
He continued to stare at his best friend, trying not to equate the two situations. Instead, all he saw was honesty and the truth behind her words . . . and something else, something he’d never seen before. He fought the numb feeling that had blanketed his body and the conflicting emotions that were battling each other.
Finally, he whispered the word he thought he’d never say again.
“Sammi?”
The now eleven-year old girl, still with her vibrant red hair and startling green eyes, nodded mutely. She looked so desperate, as if her world would collapse if he rejected her. Tears quickly formed and cascaded down her cheeks.
Harry felt himself moving towards his first friend, without a conscious thought of doing so.
“Oh, Harry,” Sammi sobbed, and she quickly moved towards her former best friend.
When they were half a metre apart, both stopped, as if caught in a freeze-frame photograph, and stared into the other’s green eyes. A second later, they closed the distance in a crushing hug. Sammi’s tears of remorse turned into tears of joy, as the feelings from six years ago swept over her. Harry felt the same emotions and moved his hand up and down her back, while Sammi’s tears continued to dampen his jumper.
“It’s okay, Sammi,” he whispered. “I’ll listen to whatever you want to say. I’m just glad you’re here. Please don’t worry.”
Several moments passed as Sammi desperately tried to calm her raging nerves. When her tears slowed and her ragged breathing became more even, she finally whispered, “You’ll think I’m a hosepipe for sure now.”
A second later, both children began to laugh. At first, it was hesitant, sporadic. Then, as they relaxed and returned to their previous comfort level, the laughing grew until it filled the room.
“You said that on the playground when you told me you had to move,” Harry reminded her, when they had settled down.
Sammi grinned. “You remembered. Good memory, Potter.”
“No, it’s a lousy memory, Stephens.” He returned her grin.
Harry turned to Ginny and Hermione. “What made you think of Sammi? How did you find her? Do you know her?” Both girls’ smiles grew bigger with each question.
“Maybe I can explain.”
Harry’s head whipped around towards the voice.
“Miss Rae!”
He literally crashed into his former teacher, wrapping his arms around her and trying to keep his emotions from exploding. “I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered.
“I’ve missed you, too, my young friend,” Miss Rae replied, and she ruffled his hair. “I see you still have the same messy hair.”
Harry grinned. “No matter what I do, it always goes back to looking like this, so I’ve stopped trying.”
“That’s a good idea, Harry,” Sammi said, joining them in a three-way hug. “I couldn’t imagine you with flat hair and a part.”
Harry looked closely at his former teacher. “You still look the same, but somehow, you seem shorter.”
Everyone in the room laughed, and Miss Rae finally said, “Harry, maybe you’ve got taller.”
He grinned. “I was joking. I guess it was pretty bad.”
“Yes, it was, Mr Potter,” the former teacher replied in her teacher voice. Her tone softened when she said, “We’ve met Mr and Mrs Granger, but not your friends, so I think introductions are in order.”
They walked over to the couches hand-in-hand, and Harry said, “This is Hermione Granger,” and he gestured at his brown-haired friend, “and this is Ginny Weasley. Miss Rae and Sammi Stephens.”
Hermione and Ginny immediately walked over to Miss Rae and Sammi. Ginny extended her hand to Miss Rae, who took it and pulled her into a brief hug. Hermione and Sammi shared a friendly hug. The two girls switched, and when Ginny and Sammi broke their hug, there was a collective intake of air from the others.
Mrs Granger said, “You two look like you could be fraternal twins, or at least, very close sisters.”
Ginny smiled. “I knew there was something I liked about Sammi.”
In truth, the girls were of very similar height and petite; they both had freckles and red hair, with Sammi’s being slightly darker. The major difference was their eyes, with Ginny having brown and Sammi green eyes.
Harry looked around. “How did all this happen?”
Mr Granger suggested, “Why don’t you sit down, and we’ll bring some snacks and drinks out.”
Hermione moved over to the couch her parents had been sitting on, so the four guests could share the other couch. Ginny and Sammi sat on either side of Harry, and Miss Rae was next to Sammi.
Hermione began the explanation. “Ginny remembered the story you had told about Miss Rae and Sammi. When you mentioned feeling nervous and having trust issues, she tied the two together. We just didn’t think a teacher would befriend a student, say she’d stay in contact, then not do that . . .”
“So it was like a research project for you,” Harry said, barely hiding his grin.
Hermione adopted her haughty attitude. “You are not a research project, Mr Potter.”
The four children and teacher laughed at Hermione’s response, and Ginny picked up the explanation. “I went to Hermione, because I thought she could track down Miss Rae and Sammi. She did — thank Mer, er, thankfully neither had moved — and explained how we thought it would be helpful to learn what really happened. After talking with Miss Rae and Sammi, neither Hermione nor I thought they were the types to go back on their word.”
Both Miss Rae and Sammi whispered “Thanks” to the girls.
Miss Rae took over the explanation. “They called me first and told me that Harry hadn’t received any letters from Sammi or me or any phone messages. I told Hermione that we’d probably sent 25 to 30 letters and left at least a dozen phone messages. Hermione said Harry had sent about half that many letters and phone calls.
“Once we knew both sides were trying to contact the other, it became obvious who was in the middle stopping it.”
“The Dursleys,” Harry said bitterly.
Sammi asked, “Who got the mail each day at your house, Harry?”
“My Aunt Petunia.”
“Who posted the letters you wrote?”
“Same person.” Harry’s face flushed. “She was the nicest she’d ever been to me. ‘Oh, I’ll be happy to mail that for you while I’m out shopping.’ I bet she binned every letter I gave her and every letter you two sent.”
Ginny added, “Miss Rae and Sammi said your aunt mainly and your uncle a few times answered the phone when they called. At first they said they’d give you the message, because you were unavailable. After a while, they said you weren’t interested in talking with them.”
Harry shook his head. “I never received any messages. They wouldn’t let me use the phone, but my aunt said she would call for me, then give me the phone. She always said you weren’t there and she’d left a message to call back. She probably called the weather report. I finally gave up.”
“So did we, Harry,” Sammi said quietly. “It hurt too much.”
Harry just nodded his head.
Sammi took Harry’s hand. “Ginny told us that you didn’t have any friends after that, until her and Hermione and your other friends at school.”
“Dudley and his gang made sure that anyone who talked with me never did again. I stopped talking to the other students, because I didn’t want them to get hurt.”
Miss Rae looked aghast. “Didn’t your teachers do anything?”
“You were the only one. Oh, I did have one teacher who tried to do something. We took the national test,” Hermione and Sammi nodded their heads, “so I didn’t hold back. I didn’t think anyone would see it.” He looked down at the table. “I did so well my teacher called the Dursleys in to compliment me and to see why my class grades were so average. They said I’d cheated, and I, uh, heard about it when they got home. The teacher never said anything.” Harry shrugged his shoulders as Miss Rae looked furious.
“Are you holding back now in this new school?” she asked, as both Hermione and Ginny snorted, then looked down sheepishly.
Harry grinned self-consciously. “No, I’m not holding back. It did get one student upset at first . . .”
“Harry!” Hermione admonished.
Her parents looked from their daughter to her male friend. “You did better than Hermione in some of the classes?” Mr Granger asked.
Hermione answered first. “In all of them, Dad, until he backed off.” Her parents’ eyebrows shot up their foreheads. She turned to Harry. “I knew you were letting me do better than you, so it didn’t mean anything.” Hermione adopted a hurt tone. “Please don’t do that again.” Then she smiled.
“I didn’t want you to have a heart attack. It seemed like you weren’t used to finishing second in class. But I’m not holding back anymore. With Ginny here now, we may be fighting for second.” Ginny squeezed his hand. Harry turned to Sammi. “Are you still as smart?” Before his new old friend could answer, Harry explained, “Sammi and I and two other students were in an advanced reading and writing class with Miss Rae.” He looked at his former teacher. “It was wonderful. You’re a great teacher.”
Miss Rae smiled at the compliment, while Sammi responded to the question. “I think I’m like Hermione. I won’t hold back, so the other students call me ‘Miss Know-It-All’, ‘show-off’, and . . . some other things.”
Hermione leaned forward. “Do you have many friends at school?”
Sammi looked sadly at Harry, then Hermione. “Even after all these years, Harry has been the best friend I’ve ever had.” Harry felt his eyes prickling. Sammi looked at him. “You didn’t care who finished first among the four of us, did you?”
Harry shook his head. “It was so much fun learning it didn’t matter where we finished. Miss Rae opened up a whole new world for me.” He smiled at his former teacher.
“I wish I were still teaching, Harry,” she replied quietly. “I loved that time with you and Sammi and the others. But I have to take care of my parents. Their health has become worse over the past six years, and we’re not in a position to have others take care of them.”
Mr Granger asked, “If the opportunity came up, and your parents weren’t a concern, would you return to teaching?”
“Without a second’s thought,” Miss Rae replied immediately. Harry looked at the teacher, a thoughtful expression on his face, but he didn’t say anything.
Mr and Mrs Granger got up. “Dinner should almost be ready,” Mrs Granger said. “You five stay here and visit. There’s not much left to do, so figure another 15 minutes.”
Harry looked at his four female friends. “I’m not sure how to say this.” He exhaled heavily. “But what you all did means more than I can put into words.”
Ginny and Sammi immediately hugged Harry, while Miss Rae reached behind Sammi and rubbed Harry’s back. Hermione, who was still on the couch across from the other four smiled wistfully.
Sammi pulled back slightly so she could see Harry’s face. “It’s like a sick feeling in your stomach that never quite goes away.” Harry and Miss Rae both nodded. “This is beyond wonderful to know that we all tried to stay in touch with each other.”
“As sad as the outcome was, it is so much better knowing that it was Harry’s relatives who got in the way. It means we were being truthful in what we promised, because the others meant so much to us.” Miss Rae looked intently at Harry. “Just like Hermione and Ginny said about us, it didn’t make any sense that you wouldn’t send a letter or call.”
“I thought you and Sammi didn’t care for me and felt I wasn’t worth the effort. I decided it was best not to make friends after that — well, plus what Dudley would do. It hurt too much.”
“I think that’s one reason I focused so much on my school work,” Sammi said. “I didn’t want to feel that way again.” She looked around the group. “This may sound strange, but I feel like something that has been holding me back has been released.” She looked at Harry, who was vigorously nodding his head. “Do you feel the same thing?”
“Yeah, it’s like now we know that our decision to be friends was right, and we don’t have to be afraid to open up to other people,” Harry said.
Sammi’s smile lit her face. “That’s it exactly.”
A concerned look crossed Miss Rae’s face. “Harry, are you still with the Dursleys?”
“No. I moved in with Ginny’s family during the summer. It turned out they were distant relatives and wanted me to live with them, as opposed to how the Dursleys felt about me. Thanks to Ginny and her family and now Hermione, it’s become easier to talk with people. But knowing you two still care for me and always have,” Harry stopped and subtly tried to blink away the accumulating moisture, “just seems to complete everything that has happened in the past two months.”
“Does it feel like an empty space you didn’t even know about is being filled?” Sammi asked.
“Exactly! It makes everything better.” Harry smiled at his friends. Just like Malfoy was responsible for the attack, the Dursleys were the ones who caused this mess, not Miss Rae, Sammi, or me.
A warm feeling enveloped the boy, as each of his friends, old and new, returned his smile.
While they ate dinner, Harry sat back and watched the interaction between his friends, especially Ginny and Sammi. Ginny and Sammi look like sisters, but Sammi’s like Hermione in school and her personality seems to combine both Ginny and Hermione’s.
This experience affected Miss Rae and Sammi just as much as it affected me. I’m really glad Hermione and Ginny went ahead with their idea, even though they were concerned about how I’d react. I guess that’s what good friends do. That and trust that the other will do the right thing. Miss Rae and Sammi didn’t know what I would be like now or if I’d even want to see them again. But they came anyway. I guess that’s another way friends act towards each other.
Sammi and Ginny act like they’ve known each other for years. They could have been jealous of each other, because Sammi was my first best friend and Ginny is now. Neither one seems to care. Oh, great, they saw me staring at them.
“What you staring at, Potter?” Ginny asked.
“Like what you’re looking at? Sammi added.
Harry started to laugh and both girls joined him. Finally, he got his breath under control. “You two are feisty enough on your own. Together, you’re impossible.”
Miss Rae said, with an arched eyebrow. “Harry, you’re not going to let those two small girls tease you, are you?”
“Nah,” Harry grinned at his teacher, then turned his gaze to the two redheads. “I was staring at both of you, and yes, I like what I was looking at — a lot.” The other conversation at the table stopped, and the girls openly stared at him, but Harry ploughed on. “Most people in your position would be jealous and mean to each other. But you two are chatting away like you’ve been best friends forever. I was just thinking that it says a lot of really good things about both of you.”
Harry blushed violently at the open-mouthed stares he received from the people at the table. Seconds later, twin redheaded missiles launched from the table with Harry as their target. Soon, he lost sight of everything, cut off by red curtains that surrounded him and seemed intent on squeezing the last breath out of his body.
Both girls stepped back, and Sammi said, “What have we created here, Ginny?”
“A charming Harry Potter? Who’d a thunk it?”
“Certainly not me,” Hermione said, joining the two other girls and squeezing Harry’s shoulder. “Is our school going to be ready for him?”
Ginny shook her head. “They’ll think Madame Pomfrey gave him a personality transplant, along with healing him. It just took a few days to kick in.”
“Oh, do you want me to go back to how I was?” Harry asked innocently.
Three shrill “No’s” made everyone at the table start laughing.
Miss Rae leaned over and took his hand in hers. “It’s so good to see you like this. I’m sorry you had to endure those years without friends like Sammi or teachers who cared.”
“Thanks, Miss Rae. What I’m trying to focus on is that the Dursleys’ treatment of me resulted in me being moved to the Weasleys. That’s when everything started getting so much better and led to us getting together and finally learning what really happened.”
“That’s the best way to look at it, Harry,” Miss Rae replied, though her sad expression told what she was feeling.
After a dessert of treacle tart, Miss Rae and Sammi exchanged phone numbers and addresses with Harry, Ginny, and Hermione, who used the Grangers’ address and phone number.
“The Headmaster is very strict about mail and no phones are allowed at school,” Hermione explained. “It’s quite old fashion in that way.”
“He probably wants to maintain a strict academic environment,” Miss Rae said.
“Right in one,” Ginny responded with a smile.
The five new and old friends looked at each other, not wanting to state the obvious. Finally, Miss Rae said what none of them wanted to hear.
“I hate to say this, but it’s a long drive from here to Sammi’s home in Manchester and mine in Cornwall. It’s probably time we should be leaving.” She turned to the two girls. “It’s been a great pleasure meeting both of you. After we talked on the phone, I knew you were special. Talking with you today has confirmed that. I’m so pleased . . .” Miss Rae stopped, fighting both her tears and her composure.
The four children moved to the teacher as one and surrounded her with their hugs and consoling words. After stemming the tide of tears and calming herself, Miss Rae spoke again.
“What I was trying to say is that Harry is lucky to have you two as friends. But it’s more than that. I think we’re all very lucky to know each other. I wish I could have taught you two,” nodding at Ginny and Hermione, “and you two more than the one semester.” She squeezed Sammi’s hand and ruffled Harry’s hair.
Sammi looked at Harry with shining eyes. “When I talked with Hermione and Ginny and Miss Rae about getting together, I was excited, overjoyed at the idea of seeing you again. But part of me worried that we may have changed too much and wouldn’t have the same feelings we did back then. I was so nervous that our visit today would wipe out all the good feelings I had from our time together.”
Sammi shook her head. “I’m so glad those concerns didn’t come true. Now I have this wonderful experience and my friend back; the future holds so many new possibilities; and I hope I have two new friends. This has been so far beyond anything I could have expected I’ll be smiling non-stop for the next week.”
Harry closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around his first friend. Sammi reciprocated, and she laid her head on his shoulder.
Harry whispered, “That hole you mentioned? It’s completely filled now. Sammi, it’s so good to have you back.” Sammi tightened her hug.
Soon, Ginny and Hermione joined the pair, the two girls reassuring Sammi that she did have two new friends.
With deep sighs, the four friends separated, looking fondly into each other’s eyes.
Mr Granger’s words startled the youngsters. “Why don’t I take some photos of all of you? Once they’re developed, I’ll send copies to everyone.”
“Great idea!” . . . “That’s wonderful, Mr Granger.” . . . “Thanks, Dad.”
Mr Granger retrieved his camera from their bedroom upstairs and took group and individual pictures, then couples with each child separately with Miss Rae and with Sammi. When Mr Granger finished shooting the pictures, he and Mrs Granger, Hermione, Ginny, and Harry walked Miss Rae and Sammi out to the teacher’s car.
After another round of hugs and promises to stay in touch, they reluctantly departed, with Sammi waving the entire time until the street curved and they lost sight of each other.
Ginny and Hermione both looked at Harry to gauge his reaction to their surprise. Mr and Mrs Granger returned to the house.
“I’m really lucky, you know,” Harry said quietly, looking from Ginny to Hermione. “I have the two best friends I could ask for, and they’ve brought my first friend and teacher back into my life. Now I know they tried as hard as I did to stay in touch and they felt as bad about it as I did. That’s something I can never repay.”
Both girls took his hand. Ginny ran her thumb over the knuckles on his right hand, while Hermione squeezed his left. Relief shone in their eyes, as well as a joy that seemed to light them from the inside.
Someone clearing their voice caused the trio to look behind them. “Twenty points for each of you for this heart-warming lesson in what friendship truly is,” Professor McGonagall said quietly. “I am very proud of you. Shall we go in, so I can meet your parents, Hermione?”
“Of course, Professor,” replied the startled girl. “Thank you.”
Once inside, Hermione called Professor Lupin in from the back yard and introduced the two professors to her parents.
Several minutes later, Professor McGonagall announced, “Time to return to school. Same arrangement as before.”
After Hermione hugged her parents and the other two gave their thanks, the professors Apparated them to just outside the gates to Hogwarts. On the way back to the castle, the children told the professors about the successful visit with Miss Rae and Sammi. Walking into the Entrance Hall, they were startled to see Albus Dumbledore waiting for them.
“Professor McGonagall, Mr Potter, would you come with me to my office? I wish to discuss Draco Malfoy with you.”
Harry looked at Ginny and Hermione, shrugged, and followed the headmaster and deputy down the hallway.
Chapter 29: The Journey Begins
Author's Notes: Please excuse the long delay. It definitely wasn’t intentional. As mentioned in the A/N in the previous chapter, this is the last chapter of Saving Harry. However, I am leaving the door open to return to this story. Merlin knows there are many more themes I would like to explore within the SH universe No promises, but never say never, right?
To a fan fiction author, reviews are the coins of the realm. You have been more than generous with both the quantity and quality of your comments. Each of your reviews is appreciated, and there is no way I can thank you sufficiently. Your thoughtful and perceptive comments have elevated this experience far beyond anything I could have imagined, and it makes ending this story very, very difficult.
I hope you enjoy the ending chapter and the now completed story. As I’ve commented on several occasions, the story was always designed to examine Harry’s decade with the Dursleys in order to see the impact those years would have on his entry into the wizarding world and Hogwarts. That is why I ended the story early in Harry’s first year.
I would be remiss if I didn’t thank a number of people who contributed to this story, whether on this chapter, throughout the story, or both.
First and foremost, my thanks and undying gratitude to cwarbeck. Beyond what cel has contributed from an editing standpoint, it was her behind the scenes efforts on the story’s behalf, particularly when it was generating some heat for the site, that has made me so thankful she agreed to beta this story. I’ve told cel this before, but it bears repeating: Saving Harry would be a completely different story without her ideas, support, and editing skills. Cel, thank you seems inadequate, but I hope you know the depth of feeling behind that trite wish.
For this chapter, a salute goes to Sir Ollivander of the SIYE administrative staff for the goblin/bank-related idea. Thanks, Tom!
Being able to bounce ideas off Megs/DQBunny when the premise for the story was in the beginning stages proved to be exceptionally helpful.
Arnel and Melindaleo: Thanks for suggesting I put tissue warnings in the A/Ns for each chapter.
To my good buddies, Peter/MyGinevra and Paul/Bransfolly, who helped in immeasurable ways. I’m really looking forward to our next projects.
Seeker Sis, who really is . . . my sister, that is, and my self-proclaimed #1 fan, which is definitely turn around on her part since I am her #1 fan.
I truly hope you enjoy the last chapter and the story as a whole. I truly enjoyed writing Saving Harry and interacting with you. Thank you!
Best regards, Jim
Walking into the Entrance Hall, the group returning from the Grangers’ house was startled to see Albus Dumbledore waiting for them. “Professor McGonagall, Mr Potter, would you come with me to my office? I wish to discuss Draco Malfoy with you.”
Harry’s soaring joy from reuniting with Miss Rae and Sammi crashed into the granite floor of the castle, brought down by Albus Dumbledore’s summons.
While the headmaster, Professor McGonagall, and Harry Potter silently walked through the halls of Hogwarts, the boy’s thoughts went to two opposing Potter Philosophies.
Evil exists. When it affects the life of a Potter, whether directly or indirectly, it must be eradicated. No other action is acceptable.
Whoa! As bad as Draco is, I don’t think he’s evil. There’s no way I would get rid of him.
A Potter treats all people with honour and respect, even when they are not due. Two benefits accrue from this philosophy. The first is that the person in question, whose previous behaviour did not warrant such treatment, may change as a result of being treated well. In the second situation, even with the most dastardly of opponents, if a Potter has maintained his dignity and has not descended to the level of the other person, then he will retain his reputation and the admiration of people who value such qualities.
How would Draco act if Snape and his Housemates treated him with respect? Would he change how he acts? I wonder what the headmaster intends to do.
“Sir,” Harry said, bringing both Dumbledore and McGonagall to a halt and peering at him with curiosity. Harry took a deep breath. “I don’t think I should be part of the discussion on Draco’s punishment.”
Dumbledore looked at the boy in shock and confusion, while the corners of McGonagall’s mouth briefly turned up.
“Why not, Harry?” the headmaster asked softly.
Harry looked at the granite floor, not wanting to see the disappointment in the headmaster’s eyes. “It’s not right for me . . . or any student . . . to set the punishment for another student. If Draco ever returns to school, he’ll think of his punishment every time he sees me.”
The headmaster appeared to grow older as he attempted to explain his reasoning. “I thought you would want to be there, Harry. I was trying to do what I thought you wanted. Apparently I’ve failed again.”
Harry noticed Professor McGonagall watching him closely. “Thank you for thinking of me, sir . . .”
When Harry hesitated, Minerva expressed her views. “Albus, you should have asked Harry first, instead of attempting to put him in the middle of this situation. Draco will equate his punishment with Harry, almost as if Harry had decided it.”
Dumbledore deflated in front of them. “Is that how you feel, Harry?” he asked quietly.
Harry nodded. “I don’t think I should be there.”
Dumbledore sighed. “Well, then, I find myself apologizing again. I will ask next time and not presume.”
“Thank you, sir,” the boy responded softly.
Professor McGonagall said, “I will escort Mr Potter back to his common room.”
The boy hesitated, feeling he should do something to reassure the headmaster but drawing a blank, he just nodded at the elderly wizard and tried to ignore the gnawing hole in his stomach.
Professor McGonagall and Harry walked in silence until they were well away from where the headmaster remained standing, deep in thought. “Harry?” The boy looked up at his teacher. “You did the right thing.” He exhaled heavily. “That was difficult for you, wasn’t it?”
Harry nodded. “Yeah. I know Professor Dumbledore is trying . . . but he makes his decisions without asking anyone first. I brought back a book from Potter Estates. It’s called Potter Philosophy. One of the sections talks about trying to understand what the other person is thinking when you have a, uh, disagreement, so you can find something to agree on.” The boy sighed. “If he makes decisions without talking with me, it makes it tough to find something we can agree on.”
Professor McGonagall considered what her young charge had said, then she began to speak quietly. “The headmaster has been in various leadership roles for over 50 years. You’ve seen all his titles.” Harry nodded. “He is used to making decisions and having them carried out. Very few of us,” she smiled briefly at Harry, “question him.”
“So, this is new for him, too?” Harry guessed.
McGonagall smiled. “Very good, Mr Potter. If you want my advice,” Harry nodded his head energetically, “keep doing what you have been doing. Speak up when he does something that affects you without talking to you first. He really wants to do what’s best for you, for all his students. Keep trying, Harry.”
“I will, Professor,” he promised.
Harry could see the Fat Lady’s portrait, but the professor stopped and moved to the side of the corridor, then waved her wand to create a Silencing Spell around them.
“Harry, I know you were very happy to see your old friends and to re-establish relationships with them. Now that you won’t be participating in the decision regarding Mr Malfoy’s punishment, please put him out of your mind. Then, congratulate yourself for having the courage to do the right thing. You should feel proud of yourself for expressing your feelings on the matter.
“I hope you can recapture the joyful expression I saw on your face when we left the Grangers’. From what I understand, it was well-earned. I am quite sure that Ginny and Hermione will help you do that.”
Harry smiled and moved to hug his professor, but stopped abruptly when he remembered where they were. Instead, he held out his hand, which Minerva McGonagall grasped with both of hers and returned his smile.
“Now go and enjoy having two great friends back in your life, Harry.” She affectionately ruffled his hair.
The professor again waved her wand, this time dispelling the Silencing Spell. Harry moved towards the portrait, while Professor McGonagall turned in the opposite direction to go to the headmaster’s office, but she stopped when she heard the young wizard’s voice.
“Professor, thanks for everything.”
“My pleasure, Mr Potter.” With her eyes sparkling, the professor nodded goodbye to her student and walked down the corridor.
Harry paused briefly and closed his eyes, letting the good feelings from his new old friends wash over him. He smiled to himself as their images came to his mind’s eye and he recaptured the warm feeling their reunion had created.
Harry entered the common room, with a smile on his face, and searched for Ginny and Hermione. He quickly found his two female friends and walked over to them.
“That didn’t take very long,” Ginny said.
“I told Professor Dumbledore I shouldn’t be there,” Harry replied.
Hermione immediately nodded her head. “It’s not appropriate for a student to be part of another student’s punishment.”
“Malfoy would always think you were the reason for his punishment,” Ginny reasoned. “If anything, it would make the situation worse.”
“Right in one, for both of you. Professor McGonagall supported me. When we walked back here, she gave me some good advice.” Harry grinned at the two witches. “Most of it had to do with how good my friends are. I’m not sure, but I think she was talking about you two.”
The girls laughed, and Ginny said, “Prat.”
“Yup,” Hermione replied before Harry could open his mouth. “C’mon, Harry, sit down and tell us everything.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He sat down, and Hermione tapped him lightly on the shoulder. Harry and Ginny’s hands found the other without either looking at what they were doing.
“There wasn’t too much to it,” Harry said. “Professor Dumbledore thought I would want to be there. When I told him I didn’t — for the reasons you two said — he let me come back here. Professor McGonagall walked back with me. She said Dumbledore really was trying. I could see that. He just does things without asking people, so I told McGonagall that. I think she’ll discuss that with the headmaster. It actually ended pretty well.” Harry lowered his voice. “I know I’m not being treated like other students, and I just want to know why. It doesn’t seem that hard, but for some reason Professor Dumbledore doesn’t want to discuss it.”
“Maybe he will now,” Ginny said.
“Let’s hope so,” Harry replied. Suddenly, a wide smile split his face and his voice became quiet again. “Now would be a perfect time to prank Ron and the twins.” He paused. “I have one in mind, if Ginny thinks it’s good enough. I also want to bring in the rest of the group, so no one’s feelings get hurt. Sound good?”
“Tell us about the prank, Potter,” Ginny said in a demanding voice that was offset by her smile.
After Harry provided an overview of his idea, both girls laughed. “It won’t hurt them, but it will draw attention,” Ginny said.
“All we have to do is figure out how to do it,” Hermione added.
Harry said, “Research project,” and Hermione grinned. “Let’s get everyone together after dinner. Maybe we can meet in the Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw common room, so we won’t call attention to ourselves here.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Ginny said. “Now, let’s discuss how we’ll get together with Sammi and Miss Rae again, and we all need to write letters to them. Right?”
Minerva McGonagall rejoined the headmaster where she and Harry had left him. “How is Harry doing?” the elderly wizard asked.
“He seemed to be fine after we discussed what had happened and why,” the witch answered. “Albus, Harry does appreciate what you were trying to do. The specific situation was the problem, not your offer to include him.”
Dumbledore slowly nodded his head. “Good. With the advantage of hindsight, I can understand why he would not have wanted to be included in that meeting. Both of you made good points.”
McGonagall nodded curtly, then she began to speak fervently. “Harry needs a mentor, Albus, not someone telling him what to do and making decisions without talking with him. There is still a chance for you to take that position. You have so much to give to him, and both of you will be the better for working with the other.”
“I’ve been denying what has been obvious since that tragic Halloween night nearly ten years ago,” Dumbledore said quietly.
Minerva gasped. “Harry will carry on in your place when your time is over?”
Dumbledore exhaled heavily. “I have no doubt.”
“Then, it is imperative that you help to prepare him,” she replied immediately.
“Yes, you’re right, dear friend. I shall put much thought into that subject,” the headmaster said.
They arrived at the stairs that led to the headmaster’s office. After the gargoyle received the password, the stairs began to move upward, and the two educators soon entered the office. The headmaster waved his wand and a comfy chair appeared to the left side of his large desk.
Professor McGonagall frowned at the chair, and with a wave of her wand, transfigured it into a straight-back wooden chair.
The door opened abruptly and in strode Professor Snape, his face a neutral mask, and Draco Malfoy, who looked furious.
Fawkes trilled several dissonant notes, causing all present to stare at the phoenix. It was obvious that the bird was staring at the new arrivals. Fawkes moved his gaze to the headmaster and trilled notes that sounded like the world’s most beautiful aria. The headmaster smiled at his familiar for the reassurance he had provided.
“I expect an apology from everyone involved with this farce,” Draco demanded, glaring at the headmaster.
Professor Snape responded first, “Mr Malfoy, I would strongly recommend you hold your tongue until you are asked to speak.”
Malfoy gazed at his Head of House with the same malevolence he had directed at the headmaster, but the boy didn’t say anything. He sat heavily in one of the two chairs in front of Dumbledore’s desk, while Snape took the other chair.
Professor McGonagall and the headmaster settled into their chairs, and the headmaster began the meeting. “Mr Malfoy, your Head of House has brought you here at my request, so we can discuss the consequences of your recent actions.”
When Albus Dumbledore spoke again, his voice chilled the air in the office. “Draco Malfoy, you attacked a student who essentially was unarmed. Not only did you do this, you had four accomplices to assist in the ambush of Mr Potter. We know you and Miss Parkinson cast the Stunning Spells, since we checked everyone’s wands. Further, the Weasleys saw you surrounding a comatose Mr Potter, before Stunning you and the others. If not for their fortuitous arrival, you may have done even more damage to Mr Potter. Do you have anything to say in your defence?”
Draco’s reaction startled everyone present. The blond wizard looked at the floor for several seconds. When his eyes returned to the headmaster, they looked puzzled, almost confused.
“Sir,” he said quietly. “I did not make any plans to hurt Potter.” He paused. “I don’t know how the idea was given to me, but I strongly feel someone,” he glanced in the direction of Professor Snape, “did something.”
Snape looked livid, with his pallid skin turning a blotchy red, but he didn’t say anything. His coal black eyes drilled into Draco.
“What did he do, Mr Malfoy?” the headmaster asked softly.
“I don’t know, sir,” the boy replied, shaking his head. “I honestly don’t remember anything specific. I just have a vague feeling the idea was somehow planted in me. I have no memory of it, so a pensieve wouldn’t confirm it.”
Snape fidgeted slightly in his chair and roughly exhaled a lungful of air. “Headmaster, obviously the boy has been well coached by his father. Isn’t it convenient that nothing he said can be proven?”
“Mr Malfoy, Professor Snape has made a relevant point,” Dumbledore said after several seconds. “There is no way to corroborate your vague feelings.” He looked at Professor McGonagall who subtly nodded her head. “I’m afraid that based on your actions and your intent to do more damage to a Hogwarts student, you must be suspended . . .”
Draco interrupted, yelling, “I didn’t plan it. He could have Imperio’d me or planted the thought through Legilimency.”
The headmaster shook his head. “You are grasping at straws now, Mr Malfoy. You are suspended from Hogwarts effective today. Your parents will be notified to pick you up immediately. Until that time, you are restricted to Slytherin House without your wand. I would recommend that you use the time until your parents arrive to pack your clothes and supplies. As I was saying when you interrupted me, you may reapply during the summer to be considered for re-admission as a first year student. An in-depth interview with Professors Snape, McGonagall, and me will be required.”
“First year? What if I go to school somewhere else or hire tutors?”
“You will only be considered for admission as a first year, Mr Malfoy,” the headmaster repeated. “This time may be beneficial to you for more than academics. We will need to hear from you by July 1st next year, if you want to be considered. If we do not hear from you by that date, we will assume you are pursuing your education elsewhere.
“Professor Snape will take you back to Slytherin House, and he will contact your parents so they can pick you up immediately. Your wand will be returned by owl post.
“Professor, please advise the four other students that their punishment will be extended as is for the rest of the school year. They, too, have the alternative of seeking their education elsewhere, and their continued education at Hogwarts will be determined by their behaviour during the school year and an interview with the three of us. If they pass, they will continue as second years.”
Draco didn’t react to his Housemates being allowed to re-enter as second years. His eyes looked dead, as Professor Snape guided him from the chair and out the door.
Hermione, Ginny, and Harry decided to leave early for dinner, so they could stand outside the Great Hall and invite their friends to the “prank” meeting. Since Susan and Hannah arrived first, the two friends quickly agreed to the trio’s request to meet in their common room. As the others arrived, word of the meeting was conveyed, as subtly as they could. So, the group wouldn’t leave at the same time, Hermione suggested they stagger the departures once Susan and Hannah had left the hall, then meet in the Entrance Hall and go downstairs to the Hufflepuff common room.
Everyone said they were interested in hearing about the plan, including Percy Weasley who was well acquainted with the Weasley rules for pranking. As dinner came to a close, the members of the group departed sporadically, so they inconspicuously mixed with the other students who were leaving the hall. Soon a dozen students from all four Houses had assembled in the Entrance Hall, then with Susan and Hannah leading the way, they went down to the dungeon entrance to the ‘Puffs’ common room.
When they entered the brightly decorated room, the few students already there looked up in confusion. But once they saw Harry, understanding replaced confusion, followed by whispered conversations. The group sat in the chairs and couches by the fireplace, while Harry cast an area Silencing Spell.
Ginny looked around the group. “Everyone, the handsome redheaded prefect is my brother, Percy.” The fifth year nodded his head as the group turned in mass towards him. “Well, the twins and Ron tried to prank me at the end of summer, but their timing was horrible, and they got Harry instead.” Ginny smiled evilly. “Weasley rules require that we prank them back . . .”
“And that’s why you got us together,” Su finished, with an equally wicked smile on her face.
“Right in one,” Harry said. “We need to figure out how to do the prank we’ve come up with. Here’s what we had in mind.” Everyone in the group leaned forward as Harry explained how they were going to retaliate. When he finished, Hermione took over after the laughing had calmed down.
“We need to find the charms, figure out how to do the transfiguration, and how to deliver the spells to the three gentlemen in question.”
Daphne’s sarcastic, rhetorical question caused the group to laugh. “You mean you don’t want Harry and Ginny jumping up and casting the spells at them?”
Percy, still grinning, responded, “Not quite. Part of the best planned pranks is that no one can identify who did them, even when it’s obvious, as in this case, who did it.” Percy added, “It also helps to keep from being punished,” which brought more laughter from the friends.
“When do you want to pull the prank?” Susan asked.
“We’d like to do it at breakfast in three days,” Harry replied, while eyebrows rocketed upwards among the group. “We can always move it back, if that isn’t enough time.”
Blaise suggested, “It would be most effective to assign a group to each part of the prank, don’t you think?”
“Excellent idea, Blaise,” Harry enthused. “There are twelve of us, and there are three parts to the prank. I’m pretty sure I know how to get it delivered so the prank can’t be traced back to us. Let’s divide up.”
After the groups were formed, Padma and Hermione simultaneously said, “Library,” and the eleven first year and one fifth year students automatically fell into their groups and began sharing their thoughts on their part of the project.
At the breakfast, three days hence, twelve students from four different Houses casually, some would say innocently, walked into the Great Hall with smirks on their faces, which grew even bigger when they saw the three Weasleys eating breakfast. Hermione, Ginny, and Harry took their usual seats by Ron, and down from where the twins sat with their mates. Percy took his usual spot at the end of the table closest to the professors. All wore their normal expressions.
Five minutes later, Ron’s red hair began growing and curling, until he was wearing a five inch Afro around the edge of his head, while being completely bald on top. The students around Ron began to snigger, then laugh more loudly. That caught the attention of the other tables, and the laughter increased several-fold. Ron looked around frantically, his surprised expression quickly changing to anger.
“Hey,” George yelled, as his school clothes and robes turned into a puffy clown’s suit in neon pink, which clashed horribly with his red hair.
As Fred laughed at his brother’s attire, his mirror image began laughing, too. Fred’s face morphed from freckles to white-face, a bulbous bright red nose, huge red lips, and garishly highlighted eyes.
As the three brothers stared and pointed at each other, amid the tumult their transformations had caused, three simultaneous pops were heard, and all three boys now looked exactly the same.
A pink clown suit, with gigantic red boots.
Bright, bushy tomato red hair, but with none on top of their heads.
And a clown’s white-face complexion, red nose, painted lips, and highlighted eyes.
The noise grew louder, as students laughed, razzed the three, clapped, and cheered. Ron tried to sink under the table, his anger and embarrassment causing his ears to turn such a bright red it looked like steam would soon come from them.
The twins rose as one from the bench and bowed in tandem to their admirers, then turned simultaneously towards Ginny and Harry and bowed again. When the twins turned back to the cheering students, they discovered the last part of the prank.
“Thank you, thank you . . .” they stopped and doubled over with laughter. They sounded exactly like Goofy from the Disney cartoons. While well known in the wizarding world but not to Muggles, Walt Disney was a Squib, and his entire life had been based on trying to capture the magic he couldn’t perform himself.
With the final part of the prank revealed, the students rose as one, clapping, whistling, stamping their feet, and pounding the tables in appreciation of whoever had pulled the prank on the school’s number one pranksters and their fuming brother.
Professor Dumbledore standing up at the head table finally brought an end to the ovation, and the students returned to their seats, though the hall was filled with chattering and urgent whispers. The professor walked to the Gryffindor table and stopped close to Ron and the twins. He wore a large smile
“A most inventive prank, I must say, and no doubt in response to something you three did?”
The twins looked innocent, while Ron’s ears rapidly turned red again. George laughed, Goofy-like, and said, “Well, garsh perfesser, we didn’t do nothin’. Hee-yup.”
When he regained his composure, Albus Dumbledore said, “I think the entire school should have the benefit of seeing and hearing the three of you today, so I’ll expect you to attend each of your classes.”
While the headmaster had been speaking, Harry whispered something to Neville, who was seated next to him.
Dumbledore’s gaze moved from the three Weasley clowns to Harry and Ginny, who had composed their faces in as innocent an expression as they could muster. “Does anyone have any idea how long this particular prank may last?”
Neville Longbottom turned a red bright enough to rival the clowns’ garish make-up, but he cleared his throat and said shakily, “Sir, I understand that pranks like this usually last about 12 hours.”
Dumbledore quickly hid his surprise when the normally shy Neville responded. “That is, indeed, good news, Mr Longbottom. Five points to you for interesting outside research.”
Neville gulped and squeaked, “Thank you, sir.”
Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Percy bit their lips to keep from laughing out loud. Harry did notice that the twins and Ron were looking at Neville in a curious manner, so he shook his head, and the twins responded with thumbs up, indicating they now knew Neville had not been part of the prank. Ron just glared.
Breakfast soon ended, and the Gryffindors followed the clowns en mass, until differing classes caused them to break up. The twins revelled in the extra attention, talking loudly and often in the Goofy voices, and occasionally doing pratfalls.
Lavender and Parvati teased Ron unmercifully. “Well, Parv, I think Ron looks much better in this style.”
“I agree, Lav. It’s obvious he finally is paying attention to his appearance. It’s quite an improvement.”
As the Gryffindors giggled, Hermione brushed up against Ron, immediately gaining his attention. “Want to clown around, big boy?” Hermione asked in a breathy, sexy voice.
Seamus exploded in laughter, followed immediately by the other Gryffindors. Harry tried to figure out whether they were laughing at Hermione’s line, the fact that the normally prim and proper Hermione had said it, or Ron’s furious reaction to the teasing.
It’s probably all of them, Harry finally concluded.
Both Ginny and he continued to watch Hermione and Ron, though they couldn’t hear their exchanges. Finally, Hermione shrugged her shoulders and dropped back to join Ginny and Harry. Ron walked by himself.
Later that evening, as eight o’clock approached, the Gryffindor students in the common room began turning around to view the three Weasleys. The twins had literally dragged their younger brother from his dorm room, telling him to lighten up and enjoy the fun.
Sure enough, three rapid pops sounded at 8:02, and the three Weasley wizards were returned to their previous status. The Lions cheered and applauded the final act of the prank, especially when the twins and finally Ron stood up and took a bow. The twins turned and nodded at the three masterminds, apparently having enjoyed the prank as much as the other students who had seen and heard them.
Ron sat down at the table, with Hermione, Harry, Ginny, and Neville. “Blimey, Harry, Ginny, that was bloody brilliant, but you shouldn’t have made such a public spectacle of us. Ginny’s was just at home.”
Hermione opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. Harry caught the action and smiled at his friend.
Ginny whispered, “It wasn’t just us. We had some great help.”
Ron looked directly at Percy, who was conspicuous by his presence in the common room. Usually, he spent his entire evening in the library, in the company of a curly-haired fifth year Ravenclaw prefect.
“I think I know who you mean.”
Ginny winked at Harry, who thought, What he doesn’t know won’t hurt the other people.”
Towards the end of dinner the next night, Professor Dumbledore rose from his chair and looked out at the assembled students. Within seconds the chatter that had filled the hall ceased, and the attention of the students turned to their headmaster.
“Normally I would treat the matter about which I am going to speak as a personal one, between the student, parents, and myself. Alas, this particular situation demands to be brought to your attention for several reasons. For one, I do not want to see a repeat of what recently happened, for the next punishment handed out will be even more severe. Second, the best way to stop rumours is to tell the truth — and the whole truth — at the beginning.” The headmaster glanced briefly at Harry.
“Draco Malfoy has been suspended for the remaining school year.” Dumbledore paused as the whispers reached a crescendo, then subsided as the headmaster waited. “As most, if not all of you know, Mr Malfoy was the leader of a group of five students who ambushed Mr Potter earlier this term. Mr Malfoy’s parents have taken Draco back home. I do not know what their plans are at this time. He may be home schooled or seek to transfer to another magical institution or do nothing to further his education. It is his family’s decision to make.
“If Mr Malfoy applies for reinstatement to Hogwarts prior to July 1 of next year, he will need to pass an extensive interview with Professors Snape and McGonagall and myself. He must convince us that this event was a one-time anomaly and that he will be able to function properly in an educational environment. If we deem Mr Malfoy ready to return to Hogwarts, he will re-enter as a first year.” Numerous gasps and whispered conversations sprang up and quieted just as quickly after the headmaster held up his hand. “We hope that his time away from Hogwarts and what he found to be a difficult time of transition will bring Mr Malfoy the perspective to be a positive force at whatever school he attends.
“As for his four cohorts, they will continue in the same manner they have been the past several weeks. When the school year ends, each of them will have the opportunity to apply as second year students at Hogwarts. Our decision to allow them to remain at Hogwarts will be based on how they behaved during this school year and passing the same type of interview I mentioned for Mr Malfoy. Except for the students in Slytherin House, no other students at Hogwarts should see Misses Parkinson and Bulstrode, Mr Crabbe, or Mr Goyle. If you do, please immediately inform a prefect or a Head of House, whoever is most available to you.
“Lastly, a few words meant to preclude any questions you may have.” Professor Dumbledore’s eyes bored into the students seated in front of him. “I will not tolerate students attacking each other at Hogwarts. The damage to the student could have been worse had the four Weasley brothers not come to Mr Potter’s defence in such a timely manner.”
A smattering of applause began immediately, primarily from the Gryffindor table. A second later the entire school joined in, including Slytherin, and seconds after that, the students stood, cheering and whistling, with comments containing ‘clowns’ and ‘go Weasleys’ being heard above the joyful noise. Harry noticed even the twins were blushing a Weasley red at the prolonged acknowledgment. Ginny’s grip on his hand increased, and he saw her cheeks were unashamedly wet from the proud tears that had leaked out.
When the ovation quieted, an obviously shaken Dumbledore resumed. “Yes, yes, good show, gentlemen.” His eyes moved over the hall, but this time they contained the unmistakeable glint of pride. “You make this old wizard quite proud by your spontaneous acknowledgment of the Weasleys’ action. You will learn, and this is a case in point, that oftentimes doing the right thing is more difficult than doing what is easy. I am glad to see that you agree with that philosophy.
“Another point needs to be made while I have your attention. No student lodged a complaint against any of the five students involved in the attack, and no student was involved in the decision-making process or the decision itself. I hope I make myself clear on these points. I and your professors were the only ones involved in this process.” The headmaster surveyed the room again.
“To end on a more positive note, with the exception of this lone incident — and even it brought positive actions — this year has gotten off to an excellent start. I am very pleased and very supportive of the direction some of you are taking and encourage you to continue it. I hope you enjoy the rest of the evening.”
The headmaster began to sit down, but the spontaneous applause that greeted his announcements stopped Albus Dumbledore and he stood up and gazed at his students with an incredulous look on his face. The professors joined the students in a standing ovation, shouting, ‘Hear, hear’ and ‘Well said.’
Minerva McGonagall leaned towards Dumbledore. “If this isn’t a statement for how the students want Hogwarts to run, I’ve never seen one. They want to be proud of the school and each other. The path is now open to you, Albus.”
At first the elderly educator looked surprised by his deputy’s remark, then a wide smile spread across his bearded face. “I hadn’t thought of it in that context, but as usual, you are correct. It is a statement of what they want. Thank you, Minerva.”
Finally the cheers died down, and the students departed amid even more chattering than usual. As Harry and Ginny, hands entwined, walked down the corridor from the Great Hall with their friends and classmates, they saw that many small groups had formed and they overheard the students talking about what had just happened at dinner.
“You started this, Harry.” Susan and Hannah joined Ginny and he.
“Thanks. But I don’t think so, Susan.” Harry stopped, as did the rest of the group, having heard Susan’s comment and Harry’s response.
“If Daphne and Tracey hadn’t dropped by Ron and my compartment on the train ride up here, I wouldn’t have had the nerve to ask them. Slytherins? They’d curse me and have me for breakfast.”
Daphne moved forward. “Silly boy. We’d already eaten breakfast. We would have had you for lunch.” The friends started laughing, and it grew louder after Harry responded.
“See? I would have been snake food the first day here.” He waited for the laughter to calm down. “Susan, you and Hannah were easy to talk with. The Ravenclaws had so many questions and theories. So, I had almost nothing to do with it. Each of you did. And I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for these redheads . . .”
“Especially the smallest one, Harry?” Anthony asked, pointing at their clasped hands.
Harry blushed, but it was nothing compared to the crimson that bloomed on Ginny’s cheeks. “Ginny’s my best friend. I think she understands me better than I understand myself.”
“Keep believing that, Potter,” Ginny said and squeezed his hand.
The conversation continued for a while longer, before the first years finally, reluctantly returned to their common rooms.
Ginny squeezed Harry’s hand. “Letters for Miss Rae and Sammi?”
“Yes, Miss Weasley.”
Along with Hermione, they went to their dorms to fetch their writing materials, and soon they were sitting at a table composing their letters. About fifteen minutes later, Ginny looked over her first letter.
Dear Miss Rae,
It was a pleasure to meet Harry’s all-time favourite teacher. It is now obvious why he feels that way. I’ve had some teachers where it is nothing but a job for them, and a few where teaching comes naturally. You are that second type of person, and I feel jealous that Harry had you for a teacher, even if it was for a short time. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could have you as a teacher sometime in the future?
I can only imagine how you and Sammi felt over those six years. I know it had a great effect on Harry and figure you must have felt the same way. I’m so happy you three were able to get together and find out what really happened. From listening to what Harry says about the Dursleys, it seems that type of behaviour was typical for them. It’s so hard to imagine why they would treat a boy like Harry that way.
But that time is over, and you, Sammi, and Harry are back as friends. I hope you will consider Hermione and me as your friends, too. We really enjoyed meeting you at the Grangers’ house, and we hope we can meet again soon.
Bye for now.
Ginny Weasley
Harry read the letter he had just finished to Sammi.
Hi Sammi,
I was going to write ‘you won’t believe how good I feel,’ but then I figured you knew exactly what I’m feeling, at least I hope you do. I’ve thanked Ginny and Hermione (and her parents) lots of times already, because we never would have gotten together without them.
Sammi, it’s funny. It’s like now I know I can trust my judgment about people. Especially as I got older, I wondered how I could have been so wrong about you and Miss Rae. I really thought you didn’t care enough about me to keep your word. Now I know you both were thinking the same thing. So, for all of us, finding out what really happened lets us know we were right about each other and that we really were good friends.
I should have known that the Dursleys were stopping the letters and phone calls in both directions. When your parents came over to my aunt and uncle’s house, I knew something was wrong, because Aunt Petunia never acts that nice towards anything that has to do with me.
Ginny and Hermione and I have talked about getting together with you and Miss Rae again. Maybe we could meet at your house or hers. Something to think about anyway. Classes have been interesting, but there isn’t any juicy news to pass on. I hope your school is going well and that you are being treated better.
Write back and tell me what’s happening.
Your friend,
Harry Potter
The next morning, a large black crow flying with the postal owls into the Great Hall drew the students’ and professors’ attention, including the first years at the Gryffindor table. Harry’s mouth fell open when the crow landed in front of him and offered his leg to the shocked wizard. Harry quickly untied the letter and gave the crow several bites of sausage and a small piece of toast. The bird devoured the food, but instead of flying away, he waited, as if expecting an immediate response.
Without looking up, Harry could feel dozens of eyes closely watching him, undoubtedly curious as to what the unusual postal bird had delivered. He glanced around the hall and confirmed the other students’ interest in the envelope and he immediately felt heat being generated by his irritation and a feeling of self-consciousness.
“It’s not a big deal, Harry,” Ginny whispered. “They’re just curious because it is really rare for a crow to deliver mail.”
“Yeah, it would be to me, wouldn’t it?” he whispered grumpily.
“Of course, Mr Potter,” she replied brightly and squeezed his hand.
Harry snorted a laugh. “Thanks, Miss Weasley,” and returned the hand squeeze.
“You’re welcome. Now open the envelope. I’m curious, too.”
The wax seal on the envelope showed it had come from Gringotts. Harry opened the envelope and extracted the letter, holding it so Ginny could read the message at the same time.
When they both finished, Harry said, “He’ll never let me do that.”
“You won’t know if you don’t ask,” Ginny softly chided him. The crow squawked.
Harry looked between his friend and the crow, a small smile on his face. “You’re both right.”
Harry got up and walked to where the headmaster and Professor McGonagall were seated at the head table.
“Good morning, Harry,” Dumbledore said quietly. “Is there something with which I can assist you?”
“Good morning, Headmaster, Professor McGonagall. Yes, sir, there is. Griphook has asked if I could meet him soon at the bank.”
The headmaster’s eyes narrowed briefly, but just as quickly the warm twinkle returned. “Did he indicate why he needs to meet with you?”
“No, sir.” Harry shrugged. “I thought we covered everything during our last meeting.”
“Harry, I am not comfortable with you going to Gringotts, for the reasons we’ve discussed previously. If another alternative could be arranged, I would much prefer that.”
Harry’s expression flashed from disappointment to anger to resignation and finally a neutral mask, as he nodded to the headmaster and returned to the table, feeling the eyes of many students on him. Before Harry could sit down, Professor McGonagall was standing next to him.
Her voice was so low Harry had to lean closer to hear his professor’s words. “Tell him to use the same method you and Mr Weasley used. I’ll take care of it and will meet him at 6 o’clock tonight.”
Harry smiled and nodded his head. “Thanks, Professor.”
Harry quickly wrote the information on Griphook’s letter, tied it to the crow’s leg, and watched as the bird launched from the table and flew out of the hall.
Minutes later the students began to leave for their first class. For the Gryffindors, that meant Potions. As they walked down the corridor towards the Entrance Hall, Harry and Ginny soon found themselves surrounded by all of the Gryffindor first years, his Quidditch team mates, and the group of friends from the other Houses.
After several questions about what had happened at breakfast, Harry stopped. “I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you anything.” After the expected groans, whinging, and begging, Harry smiled. “I can say that you’ll know what it was about really soon. Trust me.” He grinned, as the others laughed at the ‘trust me’ request. Ron shook his head and moved a few steps away from the group.
The other students split off for their classes leaving just the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins, as they made their way down to the dungeon Potions classroom. Theodore Nott immediately claimed the seat in the first row furthest from the door. All the other students intermixed in the middle of the room. Snape, as usual, was not there, preferring to make a dramatic entrance each time.
A minute later, the door to the classroom noisily opened, and Snape entered in a swirl of black, his robes billowing despite no breeze being present. As the Potions Master approached his desk and lectern, he said, “Take out your books and turn to page 88. Read the two pages that describe how the potion is made, then we will discuss it.”
With a casual wave of his wand, the instructions for the day’s potion appeared on the board. Harry quickly looked around the room and surmised from the expressions he saw that most of the students were wondering the same thing he was.
Has Snape returned to his cold personality?
Their concern proved to be unnecessary, as the professor again showed he could teach when he wanted to and was helpful to any student who needed help. The class went smoothly, even enjoyably, and when Harry and Ginny turned their potions in at the end of the period, Snape quietly asked them to stay after class.
Once the other students had departed, Harry and Ginny approached their enigmatic professor. When they stopped by his desk, he closed the remaining distance. Harry felt Ginny move subtly, placing her hand on her wand, just as he had just done.
“Keep an eye on Nott,” Professor Snape whispered. “I’ve heard rumours, but nothing I can act on at this point.”
“Thank you, Professor,” Ginny said.
“We’ll keep that in mind, sir,” Harry added.
Snape nodded his head, turned away from the two students, and disappeared into his office. Harry and Ginny exchanged puzzled glances and walked quickly out of the classroom and on to Defence. By this point in the class, no one, including Anthony, would duel Harry, and Ginny had progressed to the point where most students didn’t want to duel her, either. As a result, they duelled each other, when the lesson called for that.
Professor Lupin had the class using a Freezing Spell first as an offensive weapon, then defensively. By the time, the class was over, the floor, desks, and students were soaked. As Harry and Ginny were casting Drying Spells on themselves and their belongings, Professor Lupin approached them.
“Would you two remain after class is dismissed?” he asked.
Harry looked at Ginny, who nodded. “Sure,” he said.
When the professor released the class a few minutes later, Harry turned to Hermione, Ron, and Neville. “We’ll be a few minutes late to lunch.” Hermione and Neville nodded, while Ron stared for a moment, then walked out with Seamus and Dean.
Harry and Ginny busied themselves drying the remaining wet spots in the room and saying goodbye to their friends in Ravenclaw. Remus had already moved over to the couple, by the time the last two students, Padma and Su, left the classroom.
“It has occurred to me that I have not kept my promise to tell you more about your parents, Harry, nor have I done anything to assist you in your extra-curricular studies. I apologize for both of these oversights.”
Harry blinked rapidly, not having anticipated either of these subjects or an apology from his parents’ friend. He tried to ignore the cold feeling that had filled his heart by concentrating on the warmth generated by Ginny holding his hand.
“You don’t owe me an apology, Professor. You’ve been busy with all the Defence classes. You’re doing a great job with our class.”
“Thank you, Harry, but still I should have been more proactive.” Remus took a step back and ran a hand through his already thinning, grey-streaked hair.
“I have been looking through the pictures and letters you collected. The memories are harder since Du . . . er . . . Professor Dumbledore has the only pensieve,” Harry mentioned, trying to make the professor feel better.
“Let’s try to get together after dinner in a few days,” Remus suggested. “You could bring the pictures with you.”
“That would be great,” Harry immediately said.
Remus smiled. “Good. I’ll confirm after our next class. Oh, great prank, by the way. If you ever need help or some ideas, I may know of someone who has experience in that area.”
“No names, right, Professor?” Ginny said with a smile.
“Exactly. Now go to lunch you two. I bet your friends are wondering why I kept you after class.”
“Professor Snape did, too,” Harry said.
“Really? Can you tell me why?” Remus asked.
“Sure,” Ginny replied. “He told us to watch out for Nott.”
“Good for him. I’ll keep my ears open, too,” their professor promised. “Have a good lunch and stay alert.”
“We will. Thanks, Professor,” Harry said, and the two first years left the classroom.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and the first years found themselves at dinner as the bells in the castle’s ancient clock tower rang six times. Harry looked up at the head table and noticed that Professor McGonagall was no longer seated there. His attention was diverted when the large wooden doors to the Great Hall opened loudly and Griphook boldly walked in.
A gasp chorused through the hall, then it was followed by nearly sheer silence, broken only by the staccato sound of the goblin’s shoes as he walked confidently towards the Gryffindor table and Harry Potter.
I thought I was going to meet Griphook in the Room of Requirement. Doesn’t matter, I guess. I can’t believe Professor McGonagall would show up Dumbledore like this. This is great. I wonder what Dumbledore will say.
The student’s silence broke all at once as if someone had held up a large sign that read, ‘Chatter.’
“That’s a Gringotts goblin!”
“They never meet customers outside the bank.”
“Who is here to see?”
“Merlin!”
“Good evening, Mr Potter,” Griphook said with a slight bow.
Harry nodded his head in return. “It’s nice to see you again, Griphook, but please call me Harry.”
“As you wish . . .”
“Mr Potter,” Dumbledore said with his hall-filling voice. “I take it you know this goblin?”
Harry stood up from the table. “Yes, sir,” he replied, blushing at the very public conversation he was having with his headmaster. “This is Griphook, from Gringotts Wizarding Bank. Griphook, this is the Hogwarts Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore.”
Griphook bowed and said, “A pleasure, Professor Dumbledore. Sir Ollivander asked me to extend his best wishes to you.”
Dumbledore looked nonplussed. Finally, he asked, with a strident tone in his voice. “Griphook, who invited you and how did you get into the school?”
“That would be me,” Professor McGonagall appeared out of nowhere but was now standing next to the headmaster. “Since Mr Potter could not visit the bank, I followed your suggestion and invited Griphook to come here so he could talk with Mr Potter.” The corners of the Transfiguration Professor’s mouth briefly turned upwards, then resumed their usual tight, straight line. “Gentlemen, the Room is ready for you.”
Griphook bowed slightly. “Thank you, Madame.”
Harry tried his best not to smile. “Thank you, Professors.” He took Ginny’s hand. “Let’s go.”
“Really?” she asked, a blush beginning to show on her cheeks.
“Really,” Harry replied. “Griphook, do you remember . . .”
“Miss Weasley? Of course, I do. It’s nice to see you again.”
Ginny smiled nervously. “And you, too, Griphook.” Ron snorted, but apparently Harry was the only one to hear it.
As the trio turned to leave, Harry saw the goblin look back towards the head table, nod at Professor McGonagall, and issue a smile at the headmaster that could only be described as victorious.
They walked through the halls discussing how Griphook had arrived and his trip through the school with Professor McGonagall, who disappeared when she and Griphook reached the door to the Great Hall. Soon the trio had reached the seventh floor corridor and saw a door in the middle of the usually blank wall.
After entering the room, which was configured like a small conference room, Harry cast several spells.
“Very good, Harry,” Griphook said. “Would you mind if I added several of my own?”
Harry’s grin almost matched the predatory smile that dominated the goblin’s face. “I wouldn’t mind at all, Griphook.”
After they were seated at the table, Griphook opened the briefcase he had been carrying and took out a small stack of papers. “Harry, I have two topics to discuss with you tonight. The first is mundane, but the second will require some thought on your part, though I will advise you as best I can.”
“Thank you, Griphook,” Harry replied, as he laced his fingers through Ginny’s.
Griphook passed a single sheet of paper to Harry, who moved it between Ginny and himself so they could both read it.
“This is a summary of all of your holdings, broken down by category for your educational trust fund, the Potter liquid assets, and the other Potter holdings, which would include real estate, furniture, and other artefacts that can’t immediately be turned into cash. We’ve shown the values separately and in total at the start and end of this quarter.”
Harry ran his index finger down several columns, then across the bottom row, until he reached the far right side of the page. He looked at Griphook and smiled. “Thanks for showing the numbers and the percentages. It looks like the overall portfolio grew by about five percent for the quarter.”
“That’s right, Harry. That equates to about 20 percent annually, which is not bad considering we have to keep the majority of your liquid funds in money market funds. We tried to find a loophole so we could move some of those funds into oil futures and to short stocks in the financial industry, but our lawyers couldn’t find any way to get around the restrictions your parents set. In their behalf, they were looking out for your best interests, which we respect.”
Harry sat silently for several minutes. “The restrictions won’t be released until I’m 17. Is that correct?” Griphook nodded. “Am I right in thinking if you would have placed some of the money in the investments you mentioned the portfolio would have grown faster?”
“Substantially.”
“The six years will probably go by quickly.” Harry grinned. “Besides this is more money than I could ever spend. Thank you for taking care of it.”
“You’re welcome, Harry. We should be able to do slightly better next quarter, as interest rates are rising. Do you have any more questions concerning your assets?”
“No, Griphook.”
“Next, I wanted to remind you of your hereditary seat in the Wizengamot. As you may recall, you cannot take the family chair until you turn 17, but you may select a proxy who can observe what is happening, the coalitions formed, potential laws being discussed, and even state the feelings of the House of Potter, though we would suggest extreme caution in doing that, so as not to show your cards too soon.” Griphook looked at Harry. “Do you know what I mean by that term?”
“Yes, you don’t want me to show what I think about something,” Harry said.
“Exactly. You would gain leverage that way. If the existing members are unaware of your positions on issues, they would be willing to trade something of value to gain your support. Regardless, we do feel you should select someone to represent you soon.”
Harry thought for several moments. “Could you represent me?”
“Thank you, Harry, but no, I can’t.” The boy looked disappointed, almost hurt by Griphook’s response. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I do. But goblins are restricted by law from participating in the Wizengamot.”
Harry’s expression moved from disappointed to angry. “Dumbledore is the head of the Wizengamot?”
“That’s right.”
Harry fell silent again. Finally, he looked at Ginny. “I didn’t want to do this, because it could create problems, but I’d like your father to represent me.”
Ginny leaned forward. “Really? You mean that?”
Harry smiled at his best friend. “Yes. I trust your father. I just hope it wouldn’t put him in a tough position with his job at the Ministry.”
Griphook waited for Ginny to respond, but when she remained silent, he spoke. “I think Mr Weasley is an excellent choice, Harry. He will protect your interests. He knows the inner workings of the Ministry and probably has an understanding of how the Wizengamot operates. Further, I believe he knows how to play the games that are part of these organizations. He is an excellent choice in my opinion.”
“Thank you, Griphook,” Harry said. “Ginny, are you okay with this?”
Ginny looked at him, with wide, shining eyes. “I think Dad would be honoured to represent you.”
Harry turned to Griphook. “What do we need to do?”
The goblin shuffled through the remaining pages. “We need you and Mr Weasley to complete these forms.”
“I’ll see if I can fire call him,” Harry said.
He walked to in front of the fireplace. “Room, I need a huge favour. I need the Floo network connection temporarily expanded to include the Weasleys’ home, The Burrow, so it can be used for calling and travel. Thank you.”
Harry took a pinch of Floo powder and threw it into the fireplace. Once the green flames were visible, Harry kneeled down and clearly enunciated, “The Burrow,” and put his head in the fire.
“Harry! Is everything okay?” Mrs Weasley’s voice rose an octave in just four words.
“Everything and everyone is fine, Mrs Weasley,” Harry quickly replied. “Is Mr Weasley available? I have a favour to ask him. You, too.”
She looked at the boy curiously but quickly left to get her husband. In less than a minute, both were standing in front of the hearth. “Hello, Harry. Molly tells me everything is fine, but you have a question for us.”
“That’s right. Do you remember when we were at Gringotts with Ginny, Griphook, and Ragnok?”
“Yes, of course, lad.” Mr Weasley leaned forward slightly, an intent look on his face.
“The House of Potter has a seat in the Wizengamot, and I’m too young to use it,” Harry explained.
“And you need someone to represent you,” Arthur said quietly.
“I’d like you to represent me, Mr Weasley,” Harry replied. “I can’t think of anyone I trust more and who would do a good job for me.”
Arthur turned to his wife of many years. After several moments, his gaze returned to the boy’s head in the green fire. “I’m honoured by your offer and would love to represent you, son. You have my solemn oath I will do the very best I can do for you.”
“I believe you, Mr Weasley,” Harry whispered, feeling an amazingly strong connection stretching between his surrogate father and himself. Harry had to shake himself to break the warm feeling that had enveloped him. “We have tonnes of forms to complete. Do you two want to step through?”
“You go, Arthur . . .” Molly said.
“Ginny’s here, too,” Harry quickly added. “Please.”
“Oh, alright,” she recanted. “Give me a minute to clean up.”
Soon the fire flared again, and Arthur and Molly Weasley stepped through. Seconds later, first Ginny, then Harry were engulfed in one of Mrs Weasley’s maternal hugs, followed by Mr Weasley hugging his daughter and ruffling his seventh son’s already unruly hair.
Mrs Weasley and Ginny moved away from the table and were talking a mile a minute. Harry noticed there wasn’t another place to sit in the room, so he asked, “Room, may we have a couch please?”
Molly, Arthur and Ginny stared, open-mouthed as an exact duplicate of their couch from home appeared in the corner of the Room.
“Gosh, I’m sorry, but could we also have a tea service and biscuits for five, please?” Harry asked, looking slightly embarrassed.
Several seconds later, Mimsy popped into the Room, appearing next to Harry and holding a tea service. The elder Weasleys gasped. Molly began to get up to help the elf, but Harry saw her movement and shook his head. Molly sat down again, but she had a confused look on her face until Ginny leaned over and whispered in her ear. Finally, Molly nodded and smiled at Harry.
“Harry Potter, here is your tea and biscuits,” Mimsy said in her high-pitched voice. “Cans I get you anything else?”
“No, Mimsy. But I would like you to meet my friends and guardians.” Harry proceeded to introduce Mr and Mrs Weasley and Griphook. Finally, he asked, “Do you remember . . .”
“Mistress Ginny? Of course, I do, Harry Potter,” Mimsy huffed. “How is you, Mistress?”
“I’m fine, Mimsy. It’s nice to see you again,” Ginny greeted her with a smile, while her parents stared at their only daughter.
Mimsy curtsied and popped from the Room.
Tea was poured and biscuits eaten, as Harry and Mr Weasley signed numerous documents wherever Griphook pointed, and Mrs Weasley and Ginny talked and laughed in the corner of the Room.
Almost an hour later, all the forms had been explained, signed, and notarized. Griphook provided copies to both Harry and Mr Weasley. “You will be advised well in advance of the next meeting, Mr Weasley. While we at Gringotts feel you will do an excellent job representing Mr Potter, we also want you to know our counsel is always available to you on Mr Potter’s behalf.” The goblin bowed deeply.
“Thank you, Griphook, for everything you and Gringotts are doing for Harry, and by extension, for my family. This is but one example.” Mr Weasley extended his hand, and Griphook grasped it firmly and shook it.
The goblin turned to Harry. “Is there any other service I may provide this evening?”
Harry smiled. “No. Thank you for all your help on this and for doing such a good job on my funds with the bank.”
Griphook smiled what Harry now thought of as his ‘banker’s smile.’ “In six years, you will see what we can do without any restrictions. Then, we’ll really have some fun.”
Harry returned the predatory grin. “Can’t wait. Griphook, may your gold flow at an ever-increasing rate.” Harry bowed, then extended his hand to the goggling goblin.
Griphook energetically shook Harry’s offered hand. “Where did you learn that saying, young sir?”
Harry smiled. “I read a lot. I figured if we would be working together it would help if I knew more about your culture.”
Griphook smiled. “It will be my pleasure to ensure that your pockets are always filled with gold, Harry.”
He turned and nodded to each of the Weasleys. With a pinch of powder, Griphook called out “Gringotts,” entered the green flames, and instantly disappeared.
Harry waited several minutes, then said, “Room, please close the Floo network connection to Gringotts but keep the one to The Burrow open. Thank you.” When Harry heard a ‘whooshing’ sound, he assumed the connection had been severed.
Harry turned to find each of the Weasley’ staring at him.
“How did you find this room?” Mrs Weasley asked.
“How does it work? Where is its brain?” Mr Weasley wondered.
“Can I have one of these rooms, too?” Ginny grinned at her best friend.
Harry spent the next half hour answering all of their questions and swearing them to secrecy at least three times each. After a round of hugs and several goodbyes, Mr and Mrs Weasley stepped into the green flames and were Floo’d back to The Burrow. Several minutes later, Harry closed down the Floo Network Connection and thanked the Room for everything it had provided.
Once they left the Room, the door disappeared, leaving the usual blank wall. Harry took out the Marauders Map and scanned the corridors between the Room and Gryffindor Tower. About half way between the two locations, he saw the name Theodore Nott in an alcove on the right side of the hallway.
“We could sneak around Nott,” Harry said tracing a route, “and Stun him. Or we can go back to the dorm by the same route and leave him waiting there. Percy may be interested if Nott’s out after curfew.”
“Ooh, you’re getting more like a Weasley everyday, Mr Potter,” Ginny said with a sunny smile. “Let Prefect Percy deal with him.”
Ginny and Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room with no trouble. At nine o’clock, Percy just happened to patrol past the alcove where Theodore Nott was still waiting for Harry and Ginny.
The next morning, the student body wondered if another Slytherin wizard had replaced the record-breaking Draco Malfoy. The arrival of the postal owls stopped most conversations, as the students looked up see if their familiar was part of the flock. Harry and Ginny spotted Hedwig at the same time.
“Oh, good,” Ginny exclaimed, “letters from Miss Rae and Sammi, I hope.”
Hedwig glided in with her wings outstretched, closing them when she landed in front of her owner and his best friend. Ginny fed the owl, while Harry untied a surprising three letters. Harry passed one to Ginny, kept one for himself, and gave the third to Hermione.
“Thanks, Harry,” she said. “It’s from my mum. She’s probably writing about . . . oh, well, never mind.”
Tearing open the envelope, Harry found a three page letter from Sammi and started laughing. He held the letter up for Ginny and Hermione to see, saying, “I think she’s written about the entire six years.” The girls chuckled, but Ron turned away, apparently not interested in who wrote the letters or what they were about.
He didn’t seem that interested when I told him about Miss Rae and Sammi, and how the Dursleys kept us apart. Harry shook his head and exhaled heavily, then started devouring Sammi’s letter. He was about a third of the way through, when Ginny tapped him on the shoulder.
“You should read this,” she said and held out the letter for him.
Harry took Miss Rae’s letter and passed Sammi’s to his friend. “She is discussing each year,” he said with a smile.
As Harry read the letter, one fact became abundantly clear. Miss Rae desperately missed teaching. I guess she was able to hide her feelings from herself until she saw us at the Grangers’. Seeing Sammi and me again, plus meeting Ginny and Hermione, probably brought back all of those feelings. Taking care of her parents probably limits what she can do. I bet she doesn’t have much of a life.
The clatter of students getting up from the tables and moving towards the double doors brought Harry out from his thoughts. Ron had already departed with Dean, Seamus, Lavender, and Parvati, but Hermione, Ginny, and Neville had waited for him.
“C’mon, Harry,” Hermione said, nervously looking from him to the doors and back again. “We don’t want to be late for Charms.”
Harry handed Miss Rae’s letter back to Ginny and put Sammi’s letter into his book bag. Ginny slid her hand into his as they walked out of the Great Hall and down the corridor leading to Professor Flitwick’s classroom.
After a minute or so, Ginny gently bumped into Harry with her hip. “A Knut for your thoughts,” she whispered, knowing something had caught Harry’s attention.
He smiled. “You always know, don’t you?” The petite redhead grinned back at him. “I was thinking of two philosophies from the Potter book.”
“Which ones?” she asked.
Harry straightened up and assumed a serious countenance and tone of voice. “You are the result of the experiences and talents of all of the Potter Lords of the Manor who preceded you. For the most part, your ancestors have admirably handled their responsibilities. It is appropriate for you to feel that you will handle whatever responsibilities accrue to you in a manner fitting a Potter.
“Here’s the second one. While the Potter family has never sought fame, position, or power for their own ends, your ancestors’ contributions have created a better society for all to live in. It is a service we humbly have provided without question or desire for recompense. Take strength in that knowledge.
“Would you stay with me after McGonagall’s class?” Harry asked. “I want to talk with her.”
“Sure.” Ginny look at her friend, expecting more information, but none was forthcoming since they had just arrived at the Charms classroom.
The class went by quickly, as it always did, and the Gryffindors soon found themselves walking through the Hogwarts hallways to Transfiguration, where they would be practicing invertebrate to vertebrate transformations. Professor McGonagall handed out boxes of small garden snakes, along with the strong statement that these snakes were harmless. Her implication that no squeamish reactions would be tolerated was obvious to the students, especially the wide-eyed Seamus who shared a box with Dean.
When the class ended, Harry and Ginny lagged behind, after telling Hermione they would be at lunch shortly.
“Professor?” Harry asked.
“Yes, Mr Potter, how can I help you and Miss Weasley?” The professor remained in her teaching persona.
“I need your advice on whether to suggest something to Professor Dumbledore,” he explained partially.
“And what would that be, Potter?” Professor McGonagall asked, with a hint of light showing in her grey eyes. When Harry shuffled his feet, no longer looking at her, the professor softened her voice. “Just ask me, Harry. I doubt the earth will stop rotating on its axis.”
Harry looked up with a shy grin. “We need to help Miss Rae. She’s a wonderful teacher, and she’s wasting away caring for her parents. They can’t afford any other way, so she’s been doing it for six years now. She even quit mid-year when she was my teacher. We wrote to her and Sammi, and Miss Rae said she still misses teaching. I was thinking that she would be perfect for the Muggle Studies position since I heard the professor is retiring at the end of the year.”
Harry’s face had turned increasingly red as he expressed his thoughts without breathing. McGonagall’s eyes lit up, and Ginny had turned away to hide the wide grin that covered her face.
Professor McGonagall asked softly, “You really care for Miss Rae, don’t you, Harry?”
Harry nodded, while a haunted look crept into his eyes. “She was the only adult who cared. She treated me like I was worthwhile, not a ‘freak’ like my relatives called me.” Ginny hissed in reaction to the comment. “Miss Rae taught us so much during that semester. She even went to the public library to get books on King Arthur, Merlin, and Camelot for me after I’d read all the ones in the school library. She’s special, and I want to do something to help her.”
“Have you considered what to do with her parents?” the professor asked gently.
“Yes. They can come with her. They, uh, don’t understand things anymore. I figured they could stay in Miss Rae’s living quarters with monitoring wards or maybe even have their own room at the school hospital . . .”
“The house-elves could take turns watching them while she was teaching,” Ginny added enthusiastically.
“Excellent suggestions. We’ve never had a Muggle teach Muggle Studies, but there’s a certain logic to having one teach the course. However, the Code of Secrecy must be considered. Have you thought of that?”
“Yes,” Harry answered. “The parents of Muggle-born students learn about our world, so this wouldn’t be any different from that. I guess some kind of binding oath could be made, if you wanted something stronger.”
“I don’t think Miss Rae would say anything,” Ginny added.
“I don’t think she would either,” the professor said. “I cast a spell so I could hear your conversations whilst you were inside. Miss Rae does appear to be a natural teacher. It flows in her blood. I got the feeling she had been an excellent teacher and could still be if she were able to return.” Their professor paused for several moments. “Let’s discuss this with Professor Dumbledore after dinner tonight.”
“That would be great!” Harry took a step towards his professor, then hesitated.
McGonagall waved her wand and whispered a spell. The door closed and locked with a squelching sound. She kneeled, and both children launched themselves into her open arms.
When they finally broke the embrace, both children whispered, “Thank you, Professor.”
Standing up, Professor McGonagall said, “You’re doing a very good thing. You both are to be commended. I’m quite proud of you. Come to the Headmaster’s office at seven o’clock tonight. Is that everything?” she added with a smile.
“That’s it,” Harry promised.
“Go and get some lunch, then,” and the professor squeezed both of them on the shoulder. “Oh, the password is ‘cockroach clusters.’” Both students made a face.
Between classes, homework, and dinner, seven o’clock arrived quickly, and Harry and Ginny found themselves checking the map, even though the twins accompanied them to the headmaster’s office.
“Are you sure you weren’t caught doing anything?” Fred asked.
“Such as pulling a prank on your superiors?” George added.
Ginny smiled sweetly at the duo. “There’s nowhere in the rules that says we can’t get ahead of you in the prank wars.”
“Maybe this is one now,” Harry said. Then he looked quickly to his left, and the twins jumped, with their wands pulled out.
When nothing happened, Ginny and Harry started laughing and were eventually joined by the twins.
George complained, “We never were that bad as firsties.”
“We had respect for our elders,” Fred finished.
“Harry, what they’re trying to say,” Ginny said with a wide smile, “is that they are over the hill.”
“You wound us, GinGin,” Fred murmured, holding his hand to his heart.
“And we thought you were the nice one,” George said, shaking his head.
“Here we are,” Harry interjected. “Thanks, guys.”
“Yeah, thanks for the entertainment,” Ginny added.
“Hope your meeting goes well,” Fred said.
“Whatever it’s about,” George added, looking hopefully at the two younger students.
“We’ll let you know, if the headmaster approves it,” Ginny replied. “See you later.”
After the twins departed, Harry gave the password to the gargoyle — ‘cockroach clusters’ — and watched as the statue sprang to the side.
“Going up these stairs always makes visiting Dumbledore more dramatic,” Harry said.
“I wonder if he had them installed for that reason,” Ginny pondered.
“Good question,” Harry replied.
Before they were halfway to the large oak door, the unmistakable voice of Albus Dumbledore invited them in, as the door open in front of them.
“Good evening, Miss Weasley, Mr Potter.” The headmaster greeted them with a warm smile and twinkling eyes. “I’ve been looking forward to finding out what it is you want to discuss with me.” He gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk.
Instead of sitting down, Harry felt like he was being pulled towards the headmaster’s familiar, who had just crooned several uplifting notes.
“Hi, Fawkes,” Harry greeted the crimson and gold-coloured phoenix and scratched the top of its head. “How are you today?”
The bird responded with several more beautiful notes, while Harry continued to stroke its feathers.
“Fawkes rarely responds to people that easily, Mr Potter,” Dumbledore said. “You should consider yourself fortunate.”
Before Harry could reply, the door opened again and Professor McGonagall strode in. “Forgive my tardiness . . .”
“No apology is needed, Professor,” Dumbledore said in a kindly voice. “We had not started yet.” He turned to the two students. “Shall we?”
The Transfiguration Professor conjured a straight-backed wooden chair and placed it to the side of the headmaster’s large mahogany desk, while Harry and Ginny sat in the overstuffed chairs in front of the desk.
Harry blinked several times when three sets of eyes turned to him. Clearing his throat, he launched into his thoughts about a possible new Muggle Studies Professor. Dumbledore asked questions that were similar to those Professor McGonagall had asked, except for one.
“Harry, beyond the Code of Secrecy concern, I have one overriding worry, and that is the safety of Miss Rae’s parents while she is away from her quarters.” Dumbledore’s voice sounded calm and reasoned to Harry.
“I agree, sir, that’s why Miss Rae’s life has become so limited,” Harry answered. “For their safety, I hoped wards could be used that could report to Madame Pomfrey if they had gotten hurt or sick.” Dumbledore nodded but didn’t say anything. “Ginny suggested asking several of the house-elves if they would watch her parents while Miss Rae was teaching. Last, I wondered if a room could be constructed in the hospital wing for them to stay in while she was out. If you have other ideas, that would be great.” Harry looked at the headmaster expectantly.
Albus Dumbledore sat for several moments, digesting the information Harry had presented. The boy looked at his redheaded friend, who mouthed ‘good job,’ and squeezed his hand.
“Each of these suggestions has merit,” Dumbledore finally said. “I think each would provide for the safety of Miss Rae’s parents. More important to me, it is obvious that you think highly of this teacher and have put a lot of thought into your recommendation.”
“If I may, Headmaster?” Professor McGonagall asked. “I observed Miss Rae while they were at the Grangers’. She appeared to be a person to whom teaching is like breathing, and her interactions with these two, Miss Granger, and their Muggle friend showed she generated respect while forging personal relationships. I was most impressed with the young lady.”
Both Ginny and Harry smiled widely at their professor, as did the headmaster.
“If I may, let me take your suggestion,” he nodded at Harry and Ginny, “and your recommendation,” a nod towards his deputy, “and think about the ramifications before coming to a decision whether it makes sense to interview her. It should take me only a few days to do so. I will contact you should I have additional questions. Did you have any other subjects to discuss tonight?”
Harry said, “No, sir,” while Ginny shook her head.
“In that case, thank you for taking your time to make this most excellent presentation. Rest assured I will give it due consideration and will endeavour to respond to you soon. A good evening to both of you, then.”
Harry and Ginny got up and both said, “Thank you, sir,” and smiled at Professor McGonagall.
“I’ll accompany you back to your common room.”
Professor McGonagall, Ginny, and Harry walked in silence down the corridor leading from the headmaster’s office.
I wonder if Dumbledore will consider Miss Rae, or if he was just being polite so I wouldn’t get mad. It’s hard to tell with him. I hope it can work out. I think she can teach the Muggle way of life better than any witch or wizard.
As they turned into the corridor that led to Gryffindor Tower, Professor McGonagall said, “Harry, Ginny, you should be pleased with your suggestion. The headmaster looked like he will give it full consideration. Did you notice most of his questions had to do with the implementation of the suggestion?”
Both students looked blank initially, then both started smiling.
“Thanks, Professor, I,” Ginny looked at her friend, “we didn’t notice that. It means he’s seriously thinking about it, then?”
“Exactly, Miss Weasley,” McGonagall replied. “That is why Professor Dumbledore wants to think about it for a day or two, before deciding whether to bring Miss Rae in for an interview or not. I’m sure those same topics will be discussed if they do meet.”
Harry looked like he was lost in thought. Finally he looked up. “If the headmaster does interview Miss Rae and wants her to teach here next year, maybe she and her parents could move into the castle this school year. That way she could learn about magic, our world, and how it’s different, so she could use that in her teaching.”
Both Professor McGonagall and Ginny stared at the small boy for several moments, before wide smiles appeared on both of their faces.
“Excellent, Mr Potter!” his professor said. “I’ll inform the headmaster of your idea.”
“We can help teach her about the wizarding world,” Ginny said excitedly.
“Even the professors could help out,” Harry added.
McGonagall smiled at her two students. “Let’s hold off creating schedules and assignments until the headmaster makes his decisions.”
Harry and Ginny both laughed. “We will,” Ginny promised, as Harry gave the password to the Fat Lady.
“Goodnight, Professor McGonagall,” they chorused, while they climbed through the opening.
Entering the common room, they headed in the direction of Hermione’s usual table to tell her the great news. Harry noticed Ron glaring at them, then heard the redhead whisper in a public fashion. “He spends more time with the professors than Dumbledore.”
Ginny apparently did not hear Ron’s remark and continued walking towards Hermione’s table. Harry decided to ignore his roommate’s not-so-subtle comment.
He half-listened to Ginny tell their friend of the meeting with Dumbledore and McGonagall about the possibility of Miss Rae joining the staff. Mainly, he tried to figure out why Ron would make such a comment.
Maybe he feels left out, like I’ve been ignoring him or something. I know what we can do.
Harry ambled over to where Ron sat with Seamus, Dean, Lavender, and Parvati. After a brief exchange of greetings with his Housemates, Harry asked Ron, “I wanted to see if you’d like to go flying after History tomorrow.”
Ron’s eyes blazed at the invitation, so much so Harry took an instinctive step back. “Why would I want to do that?” the redhead asked angrily. “You just want to show off again with your Nimbus, which is so much better than the Cleansweeps the poor Weasleys own.”
“Ron, I just thought you’d like to go flying. There’s nothing else to it.” Harry still couldn’t understand why Ron had reacted with such venom. The Gryffindors at the table shifted their chairs away from the redhead.
“Yeah, you have everything handed to you on a silver platter. The broom, getting Ginny up here, special lessons, your houses and bank accounts . . .”
Everyone in the common room gasped.
“Ronald Weasley, if you don’t shut your mouth immediately, I’ll do it for you.” Ginny strode angrily towards her youngest brother, her eyes blazing, and her wand aimed at his face.
“And she’ll have to fight us to get the first hex off, Ronniekins . . .” George said in a low voice.
“You’re way out of line, little bro,” Fred cautioned coldly.
“I strongly suggest you stop talking, Ronald, so you’ll stop embarrassing yourself and your family,” Percy added. “You owe Harry an apology.”
The four siblings were standing no more than a metre from their rapidly reddening brother. Harry had dropped back from what had become a family discussion, trying to ignore his feelings of hurt and confusion.
Ron’s freckled face had turned a blazing red from the comments made by his brothers and sister. His eyes landed on Percy, and he lashed out. “It’s always Harry this and Harry that, doing things that other students can’t. He had a bloody goblin come to him, because he has so much bloody money.”
The Gryffindors gasped again, and Harry could see many of them shaking their heads in disgust at Ron’s continuing outbursts. The room turned stone silent when Harry spoke.
“Do you know the one thing I don’t have, Ron?” Harry’s voice was cold and barely above a whisper, but it filled every corner of the common room.
The redhead shrugged.
“I don’t have any parents. I would gladly trade everything I have if they were still alive. Then I’d have a loving family like you and your brothers and Ginny have. Are you saying you’d prefer your parents to be dead, so you could inherit The Burrow and their bank account?”
Ron stared at Harry for several long moments, as the other students held their collective breath. Finally, he spit out, “You just don’t get it, do you?” Ron turned on his heel and disappeared up the stairs, as the entire room stared at his departure.
The four Weasleys turned to Harry. Percy spoke first, “Please accept our apologies for Ronald’s outburst. What he said was both inconsiderate and unconscionable.” He turned to the twins. “We should talk with him.”
Ginny immediately said, “It’s probably best to let him cool off first. He gets too stubborn, if you talk with him too soon.”
“You’re right, GinGin,” George said, and the three brothers returned to their respective tables.
“Hey, mate,” Seamus said, “Ron’s been angry for a couple of days now.”
“None of us know why, though,” Lavender added.
“On a more positive note, everything is set,” Parvati said.
Harry forced a smile. “Thanks.” The four Housemates nodded and Harry returned to Hermione’s table.
Ginny asked quietly, “Are you doing okay, Harry?”
He looked up, startled by her question. “I’m fine.” He looked at Ginny. “Well, except for feeling numb. Um, could we not talk about it for a while?”
“Harry, it would be better . . . no, you’re right,” Hermione said.
Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Ginny sat at their usual table in the back left section of the library, adjacent to the stacks. Most of their friends had joined them, sharing insights whenever any of them had questions on a subject.
As the evening approached eight o’clock, the students from the other Houses began to depart, leaving just the four Gryffindors at the table.
“We should call it a night,” Harry suggested.
Ginny and Neville quickly agreed while Hermione looked around uneasily.
“C’mon, Hermione,” Ginny urged. “You can study in the common room, if you have anything left.”
Hermione sighed. “Okay. I guess I could do that.”
The other three helped Hermione return the large stack of books she had accumulated and waited for her while she checked out three others to ‘study further.’
Neville looked at Hermione as they started walking down the corridor. “Do you always hang your book bag from your left shoulder?”
Hermione looked at him quizzically. “Yes, I do. Why?”
Neville grinned. “You’re going to tilt to that side by third year, maybe sooner.”
Ginny and Harry hid their chuckles behind their hands, while Hermione huffed at Neville’s joke, then smiled at him.
“Why thank you for thinking of my posture, Mr Longbottom,” Hermione said in her haughty voice.
Hermione’s unexpected response caught Neville off-guard, and he spluttered a reply, “Well, uh, sure, Hermione.”
The four students entered the common room at the stroke of eight o’clock, surprised by how quiet the room was.
Two seconds later, a resounding “Happy Birthday, Hermione!” broke the silence, and the Gryffindors stood and cheered for the first year witch.
Lavender, Parvati, and Ginny crowded around the birthday girl, and they were soon joined by the group of friends from the other Houses. Hermione turned and found Harry, who was standing off to the side with Neville, a big smile on his face.
“Oh Harry,” she cried and launched herself at the defenceless boy. Harry felt his body freeze as if he had instantly become a statue.
It’s Hermione. For Merlin’s sake, just relax. He shyly wrapped his arms around his bushy-haired friend.
While hugging him tightly, Hermione whispered, “I know you’re behind this. Thank you so much. I . . . I thought no one knew, or if they did, they didn’t care. Thank you, Harry.”
Hermione finally released her vice-like hug on Harry and stared into his eyes. After a moment’s indecision, she kissed him softly on his cheek.
“You’re a great friend, Harry Potter,” she declared, before wiping away her tears and re-entering the scrum of friends who were waiting for her.
The next thing, Harry knew Ron was protesting loudly, as the twins — one on each side of him — pulled the lanky redhead up the stairs. Percy followed the trio.
“You didn’t hear what Ron said?” Neville asked.
Harry shook his head.
“‘Now he even has girls kissing him in the common room,’” Neville informed Harry. “Percy and the twins had enough, I guess.”
“Neville, do you know what is bugging Ron?” Harry asked.
Neville shrugged. “It’s not too hard. How many brothers does Ron have?”
“Five.”
“What’s the one thing his family doesn’t have a lot of?” Neville asked.
Harry squeezed his eyes closed and whispered, “Money.”
“Right. Who joined our year unexpectedly?”
“Oh, Merlin. Ginny, who is with me a lot . . .”
“. . . and.”
“I get attention, even if I don’t want it,” Harry said in exasperation.
“There’s more, but you get the point,” Neville said. “His reaction isn’t right, but . . .”
“It’s understandable,” Harry concluded. “How’d you get so good at this stuff?”
Neville grinned. “If there’s one thing my gran is very good at, it’s watching people and figuring out how they will react. She’s taught me how to do that for as long as I can remember. It does have its uses.”
“That’s for sure. Thanks, Neville,” Harry said. “I’ll talk with Ron once things have calmed down a bit.”
The two boys rejoined the party, and someone shoved a bottle of a room-temperature beverage into his hand. Harry took a sip and his eyes widened. “What is this? It’s great,” he exclaimed.
The students born into wizarding families smiled, and Ginny said, “It’s butterbeer. It has just a little bit of alcohol in it.”
“It’s a little like root beer,” Hermione said.
“But not as sweet or fizzy,” Harry added.
Both he and Hermione looked around and noticed the pure- and half-blood students were looking at each other as if they had begun to speak another language.
Hermione smiled. “Just think of root beer as the Muggle equivalent of butterbeer.” The others nodded their understanding.
Harry grabbed Ginny’s hand and wandered over to the twins, who were with their usual group — Lee Jordan, Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, and Katie Bell. Looking around, Harry caught Percy’s eye and beckoned him over.
Once everyone was together, he said in a low voice, “I think it’s time to prank the Dursleys.”
The twins immediately got a devilish gleam in their eyes, Percy began to consider appropriate pranks for the Muggles, and Ginny laughed in a manner that caused chills to run down Harry’s spine.
Lee and the Chasers looked confused, so George gave them a quick explanation of who the Dursleys were and why they should be pranked.
Harry continued. “This may be a good way to bring Ron back.”
The twins shook their heads, while Ginny said, “Harry, you’re too nice sometimes.”
Fred added, “Ron’s been acting like a git for a week now.”
“But he’s our git,” Percy said softly.
“You’ve got a point there,” George said, while the others nodded.
“Maybe we can all think of how to prank them and get together sometime in the next couple of days,” Harry suggested.
Both twins rubbed their hands together, like demented scientists, while Percy and Ginny just shook their heads at the twins’ antics. Harry laughed, and he and Ginny started to return to the first year group, when they heard Oliver Wood call out.
“Harry, come over here for a minute.” The Quidditch captain gestured to where he and the other team mates were sitting. Harry and Ginny quickly joined them.
“I’ve scheduled our first practice for tomorrow,” Oliver said, his eyes gleaming. “We have the pitch from 3:30 to five, so meet here around 3:00 and we’ll walk over together.”
When the meeting was over, Ginny pulled Harry off to the side. “Thanks for including Ron in the prank. He’d feel even worse if he saw all of us talking, and he was excluded.”
“Neville told me some things that made a lot of sense. Besides Ron’s family, right?”
“Right you are, Mr Potter.” Ginny smiled.
Harry, Ginny, and the other first year Gryffindors were walking back to the Tower after another stupefying lesson in the History of Magic.
“I need to splash some cold water on my face, so I don’t fall asleep at practice,” Harry said to Ginny.
“Why don’t you just keep your head under water?” Ron didn’t bother to lower his voice.
“Weasley, cut it out,” Seamus barked. “We’re getting sick of your mouth.”
“Ron, Ginny was going to watch us practice,” Harry said. “Why don’t you join us?”
“Always acting like the big man, aren’t you Potter?” Ron spit out the last word. “C’mon Dean, let’s get out of here.”
“No one likes the way you’ve been acting, Ron . . .” Dean shook his head.
“Fine! I see he’s got to you guys, too.” Ron’s face had turned a blazing red. “You’ll find out what a fake he is.” The redhead stormed off, leaving eight stunned Gryffindors staring at his departing backside.
Harry’s mind had gone blank, when Neville’s quiet words pulled him back. “Forget what I said yesterday. He doesn’t deserve anyone trying to help at this point.”
“Thanks, Nev.”
I’ve got to do something. I can’t stand this much longer, and I bet somewhere Ron is feeling awful, too. I wonder if the Potter book has anything that would help.
“Harry,” Ginny said softly. “You can’t help everyone. I’m not sure Ron would listen to anyone at this point.”
Harry exhaled heavily. “I guess you’re right,” Harry replied. “I was just hoping with practice and the prank he would get over this.” He lowered his voice. “It just hurts, you know?”
Ginny squeezed his hand. “Yeah, I know.”
Harry rubbed his temples to ease the dull headache that had moved up his neck and now covered his head, hoping the tension would ease some. As usual, the headache had set off his stomach. At least the roller coaster is moving slowly, so it’s not too bad.
As soon as the group entered the common room, Ginny pulled Harry over to a chair by the fireplace. “You need a neck and shoulder massage, Mr Potter. I’ll sit in the chair and you sit on the floor in front of me.”
Once they were positioned, Ginny began to knead the tight muscles at the base of Harry’s neck. After a minute in which he seemed to fight her, Harry finally gave in and relaxed.
“That feels good, Ginny,” he said in a sleepy voice.
While working his neck muscles and moving up into his scalp, Ginny began to whisper to her best friend. “You can’t fix everything, Harry. Ron is a git at times. He always has been, and I’m afraid he always will. The thing to remember is that as personal as it seems at times, he really isn’t mad at you. Something else set him off. You probably caused him to think of whatever is bothering him, so he’s taking it out on you. He does that at home. We just ignore him. After a while, he comes to his senses and doesn’t want to be left out any longer, so he apologizes and things go back to normal. Lots of things have changed for him over the past couple of months. Let him figure out what’s going on and don’t beat yourself up. Okay?”
Harry turned around and gazed at the redheaded witch. “How’d you get so smart?” A small lopsided grin formed on his face.
“Try growing up the only girl with six older brothers,” she replied. “You learn a lot just watching.” Ginny grinned and said in a superior tone, “And now you get to benefit from my vast knowledge, Mr Potter. Now turn around. I’m not done with you yet.”
“Aren’t I the lucky one,” Harry said but he quickly turned around.
Ginny flicked his ear. “And don’t you forget it, Potter.
About fifteen minutes later, Harry had relaxed so much he felt like a puddle of warm goo. Oliver Wood’s room-filling command startled everyone. “Time to leave for practice. Everyone get your broom and meet back here.”
The six other team members jumped up and hurried to their dormitories, with Harry being the slowest by far. Ignoring the closed curtains around Ron’s bed, Harry grabbed his Nimbus from the warded drawer in his trunk and returned to the common room. Ginny was already with the group, having added a jumper and heavier cloak to what she had been wearing, since the mid-September weather had become a bit chilly in Northern Scotland.
“Let’s go, everyone,” Oliver called out.
The conversations that had started as the group walked down to the Entrance Hall came to an abrupt stop when the Gryffindors saw Professor Snape in an intense conversation with Theodore Nott, though the words could not be heard clearly since the two Slytherins were on the far side of the hall.
Their furtive expressions immediately turned to shock, but while Snape quickly assumed an authoritarian appearance, Nott looked scared. Snape’s voice cut through the hall. “I don’t want to see you doing that again, Nott. Return to the common room immediately.”
Nott mouthed something that couldn’t be heard and scuttled off. Snape turned to the group and said with a nod, “Have a good practice, Gryffindors.” Then, he swept away, too.
“What was that about?” George asked.
“They both went through several emotions in just a few seconds,” Fred said, his eyes narrowed in concentration. “They looked like we caught them doing something.”
Katie scoffed, “C’mon guys. They were in the Entrance Hall. Who would plan something sneaky here?”
“That’s a good point,” Alicia said.
Oliver quietly said, “We could discuss this further if you’d like.” His voice grew in volume and power. “Or we can go practice Quidditch.” Without waiting for a response, he marched towards the doors.
The others followed him, but Fred said quietly, “Well, I wanted to discuss it further. Snape recovered quickly, but Nott looked scared.”
Ginny looked at Harry, who nodded his head. “Uh, Professor Snape told Harry and me to watch out for Nott. That evening coming back from the headmaster’s office, we saw Nott waiting for us on our way back.”
The group reacted with gasps and competing comments. Harry added, “We saw him before he saw us, so we were able to get around him with no problems.”
George said, “Still, we don’t want either of you going anywhere on your own. Got it?”
“Yes, Dad,” Ginny said sarcastically, while Harry just laughed.
Harry quickly learned that the one downside of playing Quidditch on an Oliver Wood led team was that the captain tended to hold very long meetings in which he would discuss plays and strategies in stupefying detail. Harry remained alert while Oliver explained the responsibilities of the Seeker, and let the rest of it wash over him.
Finally they moved out to the pitch and kicked off, except for Oliver, who had the balls — the Quaffle, the two Bludgers, and most importantly, the Golden Snitch — in a box, which he sat in the middle of the pitch. He released the Quaffle and Bludgers, which Harry paid only vague attention to, since his total focus was on the Golden Snitch.
As soon as Oliver released the small sphere, Harry flattened on the Nimbus and raced at the Snitch as it moved from the captain’s hand. It had travelled less than 20 metres when Harry’s fingers wrapped around it, and he brought his broom to a halt.
“Did you see that?” Fred screamed.
“I’ve never seen anyone catch a Snitch that quickly,” George responded.
“We are so going to win the Championship this year!” Katie crowed.
“Harry, you looked like a blur, when you took off.” Angelina smiled broadly.
Ginny stood on the bench in the stands, whistling and clapping, a huge grin on her face.
“Uh, Harry?” Oliver finally spoke with a wild grin on his face. “You can’t do that.” Harry’s face fell. “You need to give the Snitch time to take off, before you can chase it. Great catch, though.”
Harry nodded, his face so red he could feel the heat from his blush.
George and Fred slowly flew by Harry. “Don’t worry about it,” George said.
“That was brilliant flying,” Fred added.
Harry’s surprising capture of the Snitch energized the team, and they had a great practice. Even Oliver seemed satisfied when he called an end to it. Ginny came down from the stands and joined the team.
“George, may I use your broom so Harry and I can fly for a bit?” Ginny asked.
“Sure, GinGin,” George agreed, “but with one requirement. I will stay in the stands just to make sure there are no unsuspected visitors.”
Ginny looked at Harry. “No problem, Big Brother.”
George handed Ginny his broom and retreated to the stands, as the other team mates left for the castle. Harry and Ginny kicked off effortlessly. Harry flew around the stadium at half-speed, since he already was used to flying his broom. Ginny went screaming from one end of the pitch to the other at ever increasing speeds, then she began adding high-speed turns, rolls, and dives until she felt comfortable on the broom.
They met in the centre of the pitch, about level with the top of the stadium. Without a word, they began flying in concert with each other. To an observer, their flying looked like a ballet where the two dancers were so attuned to each other that every move was instinctive, done without direction and flowing from their shared emotions.
At times, their paths and manoeuvres mirrored each other with climbs, descents, rolls, and corkscrews. Other times, their movements were in counter-point — coming together, moving apart, intertwining in an aerobatic dance.
Finally, they ascended several hundred metres above the pitch and began carving large, lazy circles, flying in opposite directions. The flying became faster and more intense, as the circles became increasingly smaller and they passed much closer to each other, until they met in the middle, side-by-side and slowly rotating, green eyes and brown eyes locked together. The raven haired boy briefly glanced down and the redhead nodded in answer. Seconds later, their brooms were screaming downward, almost as a single entity, in a vertical drop.
When the flyers saw the individual drops of dew on the blades of grass, they effortlessly changed course, mere millimetres from the ground, so their brooms paralleled the grassy surface and their soles skimmed along the tops of the grass.
Breaking away again, Ginny curved to her right and Harry to his left. Then they swung back and met again as they landed next to each other.
Ginny exploded off the broom and launched herself at her best friend, wrapping her arms around his neck and chastely kissing him on the cheek.
Both children froze as the spontaneous action became a reality. A heartbeat later, the warmest feeling Harry had ever experienced flowed through him, and he kissed Ginny on the cheek. Their smiles lit the stadium.
He whispered, “You’re the first person I’ve ever kissed.” Harry heard a small gasp, then he felt Ginny’s arm tighten around him. “You saved me, Gin. I hope you know that. I’d still be lost if you hadn’t helped me. No one understands me like you do. I . . .”
“You two are amazing flyers!” George yelled as he approached them from the stands. “Did you two rehearse that last flying sequence? It was incredible, like you each knew what the other was going to do.”
Harry and Ginny started laughing, and Ginny said, “That’s how I felt.”
Harry added, “Me, too. Thanks for letting Ginny use your broom and for watching us, George.”
Her older brother winked. “And I won’t even tell the others about the kisses. But . . .”
Ginny scowled. “Don’t even think about it, George.”
When he started backing away in faux fear, all three children started laughing. Ginny hooked her arm through George’s and laced her fingers through Harry’s hand, and the trio returned to the castle.
Dinner that evening went as usual with two exceptions. Ron had managed to turn all of the Gryffindor students against him through his ill-considered comments, so he now spent each meal with noticeable gaps on each side of him. At the end of dinner, Professor Dumbledore asked Hermione, Ginny, and Harry to remain for a brief conversation he wished to have.
When they approached the head table, the headmaster asked, “Miss Granger, have Miss Weasley and Mr Potter told you of their suggestion concerning Miss Rae?”
Hermione smiled. “Yes. I think it is an excellent idea, sir.”
He smiled at the three children. “So do I, Miss Granger. I will meet Miss Rae and her parents next week at their house to discuss the position. If she is interested, I will bring them back to the school. If not, I’ll make sure she does not retain any troubling memories.”
“You’ll let us know what she says, sir?” Ginny asked.
“Better than that, Miss Weasley,” Professor Dumbledore replied with another smile. “If they come here, I will make sure that the three of you have a chance to speak with her.”
“That would be great!” Harry said. “Miss Rae is the reason I can understand about half of what Hermione says. Without her, I’d be totally lost.”
Both witches whacked Harry on the arm. “Prat,” they chorused.
He grinned at both friends. “Yup.”
Harry looked at this headmaster. “Thank you, Professor.”
“You’re most welcome, Harry.” He spread his arms to encompass the three students standing in front of him. “For all three of you, please continue to share you thoughts and suggestions. The one concerning Miss Rae was most excellent and the board agreed with me. So, thank you. But I shouldn’t keep you any longer. I’m sure that your Housemates are waiting anxiously for your return and will want to know exactly what was discussed in our conversation.”
The trio smiled back at their headmaster. As they turned to leave, Harry moved towards Professor McGonagall and mouthed ‘Thank you.’ He received a small smile and sparkling eyes in return.
Leaving the hall, Harry said, “Just a second. I want to check the map.” After studying the map for several seconds, he said, “All clear.”
Nonetheless, each of them had their hand resting on their wand as the walked the hallways that took them to the Gryffindor common room. The headmaster proved to be prescient. The trio was descended upon by their classmates, with the continuing exception of Ron.
“What did the headmaster want?”
“Are you in trouble?”
“Did he tell you not do so well in class?”
Everyone turned to Neville, then started laughing loudly. When the group finally calmed down, the trio described the content of the conversation in such vague terms no one was quite sure what had been discussed. But that realization came only after the trio was at their usual table studying Charms.
At a few minutes before seven, Harry and Ginny excused themselves and went over to Percy. “Take a walk with us, Big Brother?” Ginny asked.
“Sure. Where are you going?” Percy asked, looking at the packed book bag Harry was carrying.
“To see Professor Lupin in his classroom,” Harry said. He lowered his voice. “These are the albums of pictures he and your family collected . . .”
Percy interrupted, “Our family, Harry.”
Harry smiled at the tall redhead, while Ginny squeezed his hand. “Thanks, Percy. Professor Lupin also borrowed the headmaster’s pensieve, so we can look at some memories of my parents.”
“Let’s go then,” Percy said.
Several minutes and no untoward incidents later, they arrived at the professor’s classroom. “Thanks, Percy,” Ginny said, and her brother waved and turned back down the corridor.
“Come in, you two,” Professor Lupin greeted them. “Would you like some tea?”
With two acceptances, he poured three cups of tea and indicated for his two students to sit at a smallish round table in the corner of the classroom that had the pensieve sitting in the middle of it.
When they were seated at the table, Harry said, “Professor, could we talk about two others subjects before we go through the pictures and memories?”
Lupin looked surprised, but he quickly answered, “Sure, Harry. What is it you wish to discuss?”
Harry looked at Ginny, then back to the professor. “You remember that we told you of Professor Snape’s warning to watch out for Nott?” Lupin nodded. “Well, we found Nott waiting for us by checking the map you made.”
Lupin’s demeanour quickly became serious. “You found Nott? What happened?”
Ginny answered, “We moved to a lower floor and then came up next to the entrance to our common room. We didn’t do anything to him.” Ginny fought hard to keep from laughing.
Harry continued. “We did tell Percy, though, and he caught Nott out after curfew. Cost him House points and a detention.”
Both Harry and Ginny were grinning by that point, and their professor joined them. “That sounds like a just punishment for what Mr Nott had in mind.”
“Well, as the team was going to Quidditch practice this afternoon, we saw Professor Snape and Nott talking in the Entrance Hall. Both looked . . . startled . . . when they saw us. Professor Snape told Nott to go to the common room, like he had been disciplining him,” Harry explained.
“But it didn’t look that way when we first saw them,” Ginny said.
“So, we just wanted to let you know.” Harry shrugged.
The professor frowned. “It may have been a Head of House disciplining a student. It would make sense since Mr Nott had lost House points. On the other hand, it wouldn’t hurt to keep my ears open.”
Thanks, Professor,” Harry and Ginny both responded.
He smiled and asked, “What’s the second issue.”
The young students smiled wickedly. Harry explained, “It has to do with a prank . . .”
The widest smile they’d yet seen from Professor Lupin spread across his face. When Harry finished explaining what they wanted to do, the professor was bursting with ideas. An hour later, the planning was completed, and Remus Lupin escorted the two students back to their common room.
“Thanks for all the great ideas, Professor,” Ginny said.
“We can see that you’re a real Marauder.” Harry smiled at their professor. “Thanks for showing us how to do those charms. It should be easy to do the prank now.”
“When do you think you will do it?” Lupin asked.
“Soon, real soon,” Harry answered.
Walking into the common room, Ginny said, “I’ll tell my brothers we don’t need to have that prank meeting, since we had a real marauder helping us.”
Real soon turned out to be immediately, as Harry and Ginny sat down at an open table in the common room and started work on the project. Half an hour later, Hermione returned from the library and joined her friends.
After watching Harry and Ginny working on their project, Hermione couldn’t contain her curiosity any longer. “What are you two doing?”
Ginny looked at Harry, then turned to Hermione with a smile. “It’s a prank on the Dursleys.” When Hermione’s eyes threatened to pop out of her head, Ginny added a few more details. “It’s all verbal, nothing that would hurt them, just letters and Howlers.”
Harry further explained. “Since I’m never going back to that house, I wanted to do something to,” he grinned, “thank them for all their hospitality over the years.”
Hermione looked askance at the duo, obviously having an internal fight. “Would you read them to me?”
Harry nodded. “Sure. The first is a letter from Hogwarts, asking them to set up a meeting with the headmaster, so my time with them could be discussed.”
“Harry!” Ginny shook her head. “It also says Harry’s doing exceptionally well, despite his upbringing.” Ginny grinned as her male friend’s cheeks took on a rosy hue. “Then, we’ll follow up with a series of Howlers to his aunt, uncle, and cousin, where we’ll try to sound like his mum and dad.
“The first one will be to his aunt in his mum’s voice.” Ginny changed the inflection of her voice. “Why, Petunia? Harry was your own flesh and blood.”
“I’ll do the one that goes to Uncle Vernon,” Harry said. “Dursley, you colossal lump. I’m waiting for you, though I’m sure you’ll go the other direction for what you did.”
Ginny took over. “For Dudley, Harry and I will mimic his parents, saying, we know what you did to Harry.”
“There will be one last Howler, a couple of days later that will be in my own voice,” Harry explained. He picked up a piece of parchment and read. “I know where you are. I’ll always know.” He laughed. “I just wanted you to know that I recently found out that thanks to my parents, I’m fabulously wealthy. Not exactly the drunken layabouts you described, were they? Had you treated me right, I would have been happy to share my wealth with you as a way of thanking you for taking care of me and raising me with love and respect. But that didn’t happen, did it, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia? Just think what your lives could be, rather than what they are now. I guess you’re getting what you deserve, after all. Oh, don’t even think of trying to get any of this money. It’s all in wizarding currency and kept in a wizarding bank, run by goblins. Not bad for a bunch of freaks, eh? Remember, I’ll always know where you are . . .” Harry’s laugh faded into silence, and he looked up for Hermione’s response.
“Good for you, Harry,” she said quietly.
Over the next couple of days, the prank was put into play. Several days after that, Hermione received a Muggle newspaper article from her parents. Hermione paraphrased what was written.
“The owls attracted the attention of the neighbours, and your relatives stopped going outside, so newspapers and milk deliveries started piling up.”
Harry laughed. “Everyone watches everyone else, so I bet there were threatening phone calls, notes left on the front door, and tonnes of gossip.”
Hermione continued. “It gets worse. Authorities were called and found your three relatives dishevelled, lethargic and sunken-eyed from apparent lack of sleep, and somewhat paranoid. When they were questioned about a second boy,” Hermione looked up, “who fit your general description, they became incoherent, denying there was a second boy who lived with them.” Hermione smiled. “They were taken into custody, quote, ‘for their own protection,’ unquote.”
“Wow!” Harry blew out a lungful of air.
“They must have felt really guilty over how they’d treated you over all those years,” Ginny surmised.
“I think you’re right, Ginny,” Hermione agreed. “But Harry’s new wealth may have had something to do with it, too. Especially since they knew that with a little effort on their part, Harry would have gladly shared his riches with them.”
“Yeah,” Harry grinned at both girls,” but then I wouldn’t have stayed with the Weasleys and met Ginny. I think I came out way ahead.”
Both girls stared at their friend, tears rapidly filling their eyes. Ginny exploded from her chair, landed on Harry’s lap, and proceeded to hug the stuffing out of him. He, in turn, wrapped his arms around the petite redhead and closed his eyes, soaking up the flood of emotions coming from her.
The sound of someone sniffling finally brought Harry and Ginny back to the here and now. They looked up to see Hermione’s not-so-silent tears trailing down her cheeks.
“I need a hug, too,” she said in a very small voice.
Harry turned the chair and Ginny scooted over, so Hermione would have a part of Harry to hug. She kneeled down and wrapped her arms around Ginny and Harry, who reciprocated.
“I finally feel I’m where I belong,” Hermione whispered after several long moments.
“Me, too,” Harry softly replied. “It’s beginning to feel like home.”
“I’m so glad I’m with you guys,” Ginny said.
“What in bloody hell are you three doing?” Ron’s unmistakable voice broke the trio’s embrace.
Ginny sprang off Harry’s lap. “How dare you, Ronald Bilius Weasley?” she yelled, her eyes on fire. “Mucosa Giganticus.”
A split second later mucous bogeys had completely covered Ron’s face, and he desperately tried to remove them by beating himself about the head.
Percy and the twins came over. George said, “You beat us to it, Ginny. I was going to hit him with a Boil Hex.”
“Ooh, good one,” Fred complimented his bookend. “I was just going to Stun him.”
“Silencing Spell,” Percy said. “I know, pretty boring. Guess he’s suffered enough?” His three siblings nodded, so he walked over to his youngest brother. “Finite.”
Neville and Dean took the red-faced Ron upstairs to their dorm, though, Neville’s statement, “Say anything, and I’ll hit you with a Silencing Spell,” and Dean’s disgusted look, let everyone know whose side they were on.
After their last class of the next day, Harry and Ginny wandered down to the lakeshore to take advantage of the unseasonably warm day. The grass was dry and warm, so no blanket was needed. The two best friends sat next to each other and gazed out at the water, framed by forests, rolling hills, and the cerulean sky above.
“It’s just a little bit bigger than the pond at home, isn’t it?” Harry said between chuckles.
Harry’s words startled Ginny, and she looked up with a guilty smile. “I was somewhere else.”
Harry took her hand. “Where?”
Ginny giggled self-consciously and Harry noticed a far-away look in her eyes. “At our pond. I was thinking of when I taught you to swim, and you teaching me wandless magic, how warm the sand was on my feet, and how refreshing the water felt. Mostly, though, I was thinking about the warm, peaceful feeling I had when I was there with you. It was quite nice, Mr Potter.”
Harry felt a glow warming him inside, as he listened and watched his best friend talk so openly about her feelings. “I felt the same way, Ginny, like it was a different world and just ours. Flying yesterday felt the same way. Nothing else existed.”
Ginny turned, so she was looking directly at Harry. “I guess I was thinking about the pond and all that great stuff, because I wasn’t prepared for how dangerous Hogwarts can be.” Harry looked startled by her abrupt change of subjects. “I know, quite a jump in subjects, right? Mum, Dad, and I were shocked when Malfoy cursed you. We didn’t think that could happen at Hogwarts, and I’m not sure about Nott. Are you ready for whatever comes? It’s not our pond or flying by ourselves here.” Her voice had changed from dream-like to serious.
Harry’s response — his expression and his words — surprised Ginny. He grinned. “I’m as ready as I can be. But I know I have so much more to learn. I know I’ll slip back at times, where I’ll feel like everything is crashing down on me, but you’ll snap me out of those moods.” He looked at the redheaded witch, who smiled and nodded her head. “I have miles to go with Dumbledore, but McGonagall, Remus, and Flitwick are great, and it’s gotten a little easier with the headmaster recently.”
“Do you still want to know why you’re being treated differently?” Ginny asked.
Harry nodded his head for several long moments. “I’m doing things because I think I should be. I’d rather know for sure what it is and why. Then Dumbledore’s decisions may make more sense. But there’s other stuff, too. Ron’s attitude really bothers me. I hope we can fix it up so we’re friends again. Nott’s confusing. Next year, I think Malfoy and the other four will be back, so they could create some problems.”
“You really think Malfoy will come back as a first year?” Ginny asked, her eyebrows half way up her forehead.
“Yeah. His pride won’t let him do anything else, and he’ll be much more dangerous. The other four will be a problem, too, but Draco will be the main one.” Harry shrugged.
“What about the group of friends? Do you think they’ll remain together or that we’ll lose some people?”
Harry thought for several moments. “I don’t know. I hope we all stay together for the seven years. I like all of them, and they seem to get along really well.” He shook his head and grinned. “But this is all new to me, so I’m kinda just doing what seems right whenever something comes up. Anything bothering you, Miss Weasley?”
“Very good, Mr Potter,” the redhead replied with a teasing smile. “Ron, in one of his few sane moments recently, mentioned how amazing your change has been since you came to The Burrow. It has been amazing. But I wanted to make sure it is real, and not you trying to convince everyone you’re okay, while you’re still hurting inside.”
Harry looked at his friend for a long time, before smiling at her. “At one time, I would have done exactly that. But I was very lucky. I stayed with a family for just a month, but I learned being truthful and not holding things in was the best way to deal with things most of the time.
“Before leaving for Hogwarts, I made a promise to myself that as much as I could I wouldn’t let the time with my relatives get me down. I try to do the same thing with people like Malfoy and Snape on the first day. It’s like thinking that they are the one with the problems, not me.” He shrugged. “It helps. And it came from being with you and your family.”
Ginny closed the distance between them and placed her arms around his neck, laying her head on his shoulder with a sigh. “You’ve certainly got better with words, Mr Potter,” she said in a teasing voice.
Seconds later, her head started bouncing on Harry’s shoulder as he began to laugh loudly.
“But you’re not a very good pillow,” she added, raising her head, while keeping her arms around the still laughing boy.
When Harry finally calmed down, he reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out the Marauders Map. Swearing he was ‘up to no good,’ he and Ginny searched the corridors leading from the Entrance Hall to Gryffindor Tower. Both stopped at the same dot.
“Theodore Nott,” Ginny said.
“This time, we teach him a lesson,” Harry declared, all teasing and laughter gone from his voice. “I’ll put on the Invisibility Cloak before we reach his hallway. As soon as you come around the corner, I’ll Silence him.”
“Sounds good to me. If he gets you, though, I’ll hit him with a Bat Bogey Hex,” the spunky witch said.
“We have nothing to worry about then,” Harry said between laughs.
The two first years made their way from the lake to the Entrance Hall and then to the corridor next to the one where Nott had been. Confirming that no one else was around, Harry pulled out the map and verified that the Slytherin was still in the same alcove. Harry put on the Invisibility Cloak and Silenced his feet, before moving around the corner into the new hallway.
Harry walked past Nott until he was about two metres past the alcove, took off his Cloak, hid it in his robe pocket, and snuck back to the hiding place. Nott continued to look down the hall in the opposite direction, so Harry’s non-verbal casting of the Silencio took him completely by surprise.
“Turn around slowly, Nott, with your hands visible and away from your body,” Harry commanded. He quickly took Nott’s wand and called out, “It’s okay, Ginny. Come around.”
Ginny moved carefully around the corner, with her wand aimed chest high. When she saw Harry’s wand pointed at Nott, she smiled. “Good job, Harry.” As Ginny reached them, her expression turned from elation to confusion.
Nott’s eyes were so wide open they nearly bulged out of their sockets. Even stranger, he held his hands together, chest high, in a supplicating manner.
“What’s with him?” Ginny asked.
Harry looked at the Slytherin more carefully. “It looks like he wants to talk. Is that what you think?”
Ginny looked carefully, but she didn’t need to, as Nott was nodding vigorously.
Harry quickly cast, “Finite” and “Incarcerous.”
“We only have a minute. I can’t be seen with you. Don’t trust Snape. He isn’t what he seems to be . . .”
The sounds of several people walking towards them stopped Nott, and he looked at Harry pleadingly. Harry waved away the Incarcerous Spell, mouthed ‘Thanks’ and returned Nott’s wand to him, then watched as the Slytherin raced down the hallway and around the corner.
Several seconds later two seventh year Gryffindors passed Harry and Ginny and nodded towards them in greeting.
“That was really strange,” Ginny whispered, after the two students moved out of hearing range.
“They both said to watch the other,” Harry replied quietly. “Who are we supposed to believe?”
Both children stood silently for several moments, before Harry exclaimed, “Professor McGonagall.”
They checked the map, found it clear, grasped each other’s hand, and quickly made their way down the hallways to their professor’s quarters. After stroking the cat’s fur in the picture, the door to Minerva McGonagall’s quarters appeared in what had previously been a solid block wall. Ginny knocked on the door, and in less than a minute, a surprised Professor McGonagall opened the door.
“To what do I owe this unexpected visit, Miss Weasley and Mr Potter?” the professor asked with just a hint of a smile in her eyes.
“It concerns Professor Snape and Theodore Nott,” Harry said, still breathing heavily from rushing down the hallways.
“Please come in, then,” their professor said. “Would you like some tea?”
“Oh, no thank you,” Ginny said quickly. “We just wanted to let you know what has happened.”
“About a week ago, Professor Snape asked us to stay after class,” Harry explained. “He told us to watch out for Theodore Nott.”
Ginny continued, “That same day, we saw on the map that Nott was waiting in a corridor that led to our common room. We snuck by him and told Percy, who caught him out after curfew.”
“Yes, I recall that,” Professor McGonagall said.
“We saw Nott on the map another time or two, but always avoided him,” Harry said. “Today, we got tired of this game, so we, uh, had a conversation with him.”
They both looked at their professor to see how she would react to Harry’s rather lame explanation. She bit her lip and chose not to say anything.
“Nott said to watch Professor Snape,” Ginny said. “And added that ‘He isn’t what he appears to be.’”
Harry finished the explanation. “We heard footsteps, so we let Nott go. He was very nervous.”
Professor McGonagall considered the information for several long minutes, while her two students waited for her reaction to what they had told her.
“Both Professor Snape and Mr Nott said to watch the other one,” the professor spoke as if to herself. “Plus, Mr Nott added that Professor Snape wasn’t as he appeared. It would seem that one of them is lying.”
“Only if they aren’t working together,” Harry added.
McGonagall looked at him sharply. “Very good, Mr Potter. Five points to Gryffindor for creative thinking.” She paused. “I have to admit I am stumped. Professor Lupin shared with me you seeing the same two gentlemen talking in the Entrance Hall. I will report this to the headmaster and see if he can figure this out. He or I may contact you for further information.” The professor’s voice softened. “In the meantime, please be careful, Harry, Ginny. Always use the map and never go anywhere unescorted. I will accompany you back to the common room.” She looked at the antique clock on the fireplace mantel. “It’s nearly dinner time. Why don’t we go directly to the Great Hall?”
“Sure,” Harry replied.
“Thank you for coming directly to me,” their professor said. “We’ll try to get to the bottom of this as quickly as we can. Something certainly is going on. Shall we go?”
Both children nodded, and they walked out of their professor’s quarters, with their hands intertwined.
Draco Malfoy sat at the desk in his bedroom in Malfoy Manor, the memory of his father’s tongue lashing while they returned from Hogwarts again spooling through his brain.
“You snivelling embarrassment to the Malfoy name and position. Let me explain what is going to happen so even you can understand.” His father glared at his only son. “You will be schooled at home in the same subjects you would have studied at Hogwarts this year had you not failed so abominably. You will learn Dark Arts no educational institution would ever teach. Occlumency and Legilimency will be mastered so you can keep your thoughts and memories protected from Dumbledore and Snape, whom I don’t trust, and to enable you to search others’ minds to determine if they are loyal or not.
“Your goal is to pass the interview with the old man, McGonagall, and Snape that will open the gates to Hogwarts and Harry Potter. The very best and most loyal of Lord Voldemort’s supporters will teach you, so you will return to Hogwarts next year as the most powerful student in the school.
“Lastly, once you have met your goal of being reinstated, I will give you a book — more specifically a diary -- that will sever the relationship between Potter and the blood traitor Weasley witch.
“I will not permit the scion of the Malfoy family to be defeated and made fun of by essentially a Muggle-born. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Father,” the blond boy meekly replied.
Lucius Malfoy had been true to his word. The one-on-one tutoring had already enabled them to cover a quarter of the entire year’s material for each class in just the few short weeks Draco had been home. But it was the Dark Arts that drew the boy’s greatest interest, because these were the curses, transfigurations, and potions that would bring him the joy of decimating Harry Potter and holding him up to the school for the fraud he was.
Draco returned to his studies with renewed energy.
Though he was dreaming, Harry could feel the frustration rolling off of him, almost as if he were watching himself in his own dream. He sat in the same small boat again, his hands tightly gripping the oars. The ocean’s anger at his presence expressed itself through crashing, foam-flecked waves that caused the boat to pitch wildly no matter where Harry directed it. The wind added to his confusion, whipping shards of water that stung his face and made seeing clearly a near impossibility.
Harry could feel the rage growing inside of him. Why am I here again with the ocean so wild and powerful? What can I do to get out of this storm? The oars are useless against these waves.
He saw water-blurred outlines of the jagged rocks at the foot of the cliff, with the two boats still impaled on them and taking a horrible beating. A flash of lightning made the air around the two boats turn an eerie green colour before being washed away by yet another crashing wave. His small boat appeared destined to join them on the rocks, and Harry being such an untrained swimmer, knew he wouldn’t be able to escape their clutches. The ocean was far more powerful than he.
Thunder rolled through the sky, causing Harry to look back to the source of the deafening sound. Instead, his eyes locked on the wild-haired and bearded sea monster as he rose from the water in a terrifying surge of power, the waves having no affect on him. With a trident held securely in his hand, the Neptune-like monster moved like a wave upon the water directly at Harry.
The boy froze for a second, as fear paralyzed him. Then, the primitive survival instinct swept through him, and Harry leaned into the oars with all the strength he could call on. The small boat surged away from the sea monster, who looked surprised by the boy’s action. After a moment’s hesitation, he pursued the boat, which was headed directly towards the deadly rocks.
In seconds, the sea monster, caught up with the boat and he cupped his enormous hands around it, temporarily providing a safe haven for the boy. For the first time, Harry looked closely at the sea creature and was shocked to find that his eyes contained no malice, instead, they showed only hope. The man-like creature nodded his head to the right, as if to indicate that was the direction they should go.
Harry sucked in a deep breath and nodded his acceptance. Immediately, the enormous man powerfully flowed through the water, as if it were a part of him, guiding the small boat on a course that paralleled the rocky cliff, but kept the boat from moving any closer. Long minutes passed as Harry craned his neck to see where they were going, but the storm-blackened night made seeing anything beyond an arm’s length an impossibility.
Finally, another round of lightning filled the sky, and Harry saw that they were now in a small, calm cove, protected from the raging storm. Harry squinted in what he thought was an easterly direction and seconds later the ghost of the nascent sunrise barely could be seen. He looked into shore, which slowly revealed itself in the dawn’s first light. Harry noticed the thunder and lightning had receded with the approach of the new day.
The small boy turned from the shore to the person that had saved him. The giant gestured towards the sandy shore and gave the boat a gentle push in that direction. The man reached out again to offer help and guidance but reluctantly pulled his hand back and let it drop to his side.
Blue eyes locked with green, as Harry started rowing towards shore. The giant watched the boy closely, an internal fight evident on his face and in his eyes. Harry mouthed ‘Thank you,’ and the man smiled for the first time, before turning away and fading back into the ocean’s depths.
Several minutes later, the boat grounded itself on the sand in the cove. Harry jumped out of the boat and dragged it further onto the sand, leaving the oars inside. Looking through the fog that made everything appear fuzzy and ill-defined, Harry finally found a faint path leading away from the shoreline. Walking carefully so as not to lose the trail, Harry could feel that he was walking slightly uphill. Even with the fog thinning slightly, he still could not see anything clearly.
As he crested a rise in the trail, the fog lifted and the most beautiful sight he had ever seen greeted Harry. Ginny stood in front of her pond, a huge, heart warming smile on her face. A second later, the two children sprinted towards each other, ending in a swirling hug.
Still holding each other, Harry asked, “How did you get here?”
He could feel Ginny shrug. “I don’t know. It just seemed to be the place I should be.” She grinned. “Seems I was right.” After a moment’s pause, she added, “There are others here, too.”
Their hands found each other as they broke their embrace. Harry looked at what he thought had been the pond’s empty shoreline. This time, though, several dozen people stood there, all smiling, all generating a warmth that filled his body. Even Hedwig was perched in a nearby tree, with a small rat clamped in her beak. She bobbed her head in greeting.
Harry leaned closer to Ginny. “Thanks for all of this.”
She briefly laid her head on his shoulder. “I thought it would help. You had quite a battle out there.”
When Ginny lifted her head, the young couple walked towards the people waiting for them. They first went to their Hogwarts friends, including Hermione, Sammi, members of the Quidditch team, students from the other Houses, Percy and the twins, but Harry couldn’t see their younger brother.
The group surrounded Harry and Ginny, greeting them with hugs and kind words. After several minutes, the friends’ attention turned to Hermione.
She blushed a rosy pink, then cleared her throat and began speaking. “We have gotten together to give you two gifts. While they didn’t cost anything in the traditional sense, we hope you will see them as priceless. Best of all, these gifts are given willingly from our hearts. For both of you, Harry and Ginny, you have our undying loyalty and friendship. We are here because of what you have done for all of us and each of us, but more importantly, for who you are.”
The two children again were surrounded by their friends, physically but more importantly, by the emotions generated by these gifts. Their school friends finally parted, and the two children saw Professor McGonagall waiting for them, along with Professors Flitwick and Lupin, Miss Rae, and Hagrid.
“During the short time you have been our students,” Minerva McGonagall said, a warm smile on her face, “we have learned that you are true students, who love learning for its own value. This is a quality each of us treasures and we are so pleased that you each have it. Our gift to you is to share all of the knowledge and training we are capable of providing you. Sometimes the gift will be given in concert with other students through your regular classes. At other times, we will assist you in any outside studies that will be of benefit to you. All you need to do is ask.”
Professor McGonagall smiled at her two students. “We are very proud of you and have great hopes for your futures.” Then, she guided the couple to Ginny’s parents.
Arthur Weasley knelt as the children approached, and his daughter and Harry ran into his open arms. Molly Weasley completed the circle surrounding the children by wrapping her arms around them and resting her hands on her husband’s shoulders.
“Harry,” Arthur Weasley began, “you have learned something recently that Ginny and her brothers have known all their lives. The love of their family provides the strongest foundation a child can have. We want you to know that you will always have our unquestioned love and support. You are a part of our family now, son. Nothing will ever change that.”
Molly smiled at her two children, one from birth, the other from choice. “We may argue.” She stopped and smiled. “No, we do argue. But that’s alright, because we always know that when the time comes we will protect each other without question. Carry that certainty with you from now on, Harry dear, as Ginny already does.” Molly pulled him close in the gentlest hug he had yet felt from her.
“Thank you, Arthur and Molly,” a soft voice said.
“We appreciate everything you have done and will do for our son.” James Potter grasped Arthur’s hand and shook it, then clapped him on the shoulder.
Harry had turned upon hearing the voices, moving quickly, instinctively to his auburn-haired mother and hugging her tightly. “I wish you and Dad were here with me,” he whispered, blinking rapidly to stem the moisture that had begun to fill his eyes.
“Harry, darling, we are always with you,” Lily Potter answered, the tears welling then slowly spilling down her cheeks. “We’re here.” She gently laid her hand on his head. “You have pictures and the pensieve memories. But most importantly, we are always here,” his mum said, placing her hand on his heart. “We’ll always watch over you, sweetheart.”
James and Ginny joined mother and son. “Take good care of him, Ginny. We are so glad you two found each other and so soon.”
“Son,” James Potter said, “you have a fiery jewel here. Let Ginny express herself, and there will be no witch equal to her.” James put his arm around his wife and kissed her forehead. “I have first hand experience with someone very similar,” he added with a smile.
“You learned of the many gifts you already have,” his father continued. “Please realize that they were given to you because you let them see your true self. You’ll never have to worry about holding back or putting on a neutral personality again, son.”
“You have a wonderful group of friends, so different, yet so similar in the qualities that matter,” Lily said. “Trust them and let them support you.”
“I can’t believe you found several Slytherins that were worthwhile . . .”
“James!”
“Well, it’s true, Lils.”
“Don’t ‘Lils’ me, James Potter.”
With the last comment, both parents began chuckling, but it quickly progressed to outright stomach-stretching laughter. When they finally regained a semblance of control, Lily said.
“We’ve still got it. Don’t we, Jamie?” Lily put her arm around her husband’s shoulder.
Harry, Ginny, and her parents had joined the Potters in laughing, Harry having tears streaking his cheeks at the fun his parents were having. He launched himself at his parents, wrapping his arms around their waists and feeling life was perfect when they pulled him close to them.
He finally whispered, “Merlin, I love you, Mum, Dad,” and squeezed even harder.
He raised his head. “I used to be so mad at you, but not anymore.”
His dad sobered quickly. “Harry, whenever you need us, we’ll be there, one way or another.”
“We have a bond, son, that can never be broken.” She kissed her fingertips and placed them on his heart. Harry immediately covered her hand with his, and James covered those of his son and his wife.
Lily pulled him into a quick hug and kissed the top of his head. His dad ruffled his son’s already unruly hair. “You understand who you are now, Harry, where you come from, and the type of life that will be available to you. There will be tough times and times when you doubt yourself. But you have wonderful people supporting you. One of the Potter philosophies fits pretty well. A Potter never quits . . .”
Harry put his hand on his father’s. “He explores all possible alternatives, seeking that which is most effective.”
James stated the next line. “Once found, total effort is expended until the task — however onerous — is completed.” James turned to his son.
“If diligence is exercised in selecting the best alternative and the requisite effort is given, then one can be pleased by the results, even if they are seen by others as a failure.”
James squeezed his son’s hand, as they both said the ending line. “A Potter can learn from any outcome.”
“Harry, there’s one more person you need to talk with,” his mum said softly.
Harry looked confused and glanced back at the group. The person in question stood apart from the others, a hopeful expression on his face. Harry looked at his parents and nodded.
“Then it’s time for us to go, son,” James said, pulling Harry close.
Long moments passed, and the boy next felt his mum hugging him tightly, already recognizing her softer, more rounded body.
When she stepped back from their embrace, her emerald eyes were sparkling.
“We love you, Harry.”
Seconds later, his parents faded into mist and disappeared.
Ginny came over and wrapped her arms around her best friend. They were quickly joined by Arthur and Molly Weasley, whose arms encircled the two children.
Harry finally said, “I have one more person to speak with.”
Arthur Weasley smiled. “Good lad.”
As Harry walked towards the headmaster, a fuzzy image of Professor Snape came into view about twenty metres behind Professor Dumbledore, then flickered away as if it had been consumed by the fog or by his own indecision over whether he wanted to be there or not.
“An impressive group of friends and family, Harry,” Albus Dumbledore said.
“I’m very lucky, sir.”
The headmaster smiled. “I think each of them would say the same thing about knowing you. Would you like to take a short walk with me?”
“Very much.”
“Harry, through the years I’ve slipped further and further away from being a teacher. The headmaster’s position is primarily administrative. Somewhere along the way, I lost why I had chosen this profession.” The professor stopped and picked up a few flat stones. The first one he pitched kerplunked into the water.
“Curve your index finger along the back edge of the stone. See?” Harry held up the stone he held in his hand. He turned and whipped his arm in a flat arc and smiled when the stone skipped three times, before slicing into the water.
“Now, I remember,” Professor Dumbledore said. His next throw skimmed the water three times before turning downward.
Harry took his robes off, since the morning sun had begun to burn off the morning moisture in the air.
“I’ve short-changed both of us, Harry. I can certainly learn new things from you, since your perspective is so different from mine. Modestly, I would hope that you could learn much from me. I would like to propose a new type of relationship between the two of us, where I would act as a mentor to you. I think it would prove beneficial to both of us.”
“I would really like to work with you, Professor,” Harry answered enthusiastically.
“Great. We can discuss the plan in detail tomorrow,” Dumbledore, his smile not quiet masking his look of relief. “Shall we return to the others?”
They turned around and both immediately put a hand up to shade their eyes from the sun. “Looks like it will be a beautiful day, Mr Potter.”
Harry was smiling at his headmaster, when the dream faded into the mists of sleep.
Harry woke up the next morning feeling refreshed and with more energy than he could remember in ages.
Harry got cleaned up and dressed and went down to the common room to wait for Ginny. Minutes later, she drifted down from her dormitory, sleepy-eyed and with an expression that indicated she had risen much earlier than she would have preferred.
The early morning sun glinted through a window and crossed her path, highlighting her hair in crimson and gold.
Merlin, she looks great in the sun, with her red hair. Sun? Red hair?
The dream came flooding back in a kaleidoscope of scenes, people, and conversations. He joined his best friend at the base of the staircase.
“Good morning, sleepyhead. Nice to finally see you,” Harry’s voice carried a teasing tone.
“Shush, you,” Ginny said with a faint smile. “I’m trying not to wake up entirely until our first class starts.”
“Not a morning person, are you?” he said as brightly as he could, as they walked towards the portrait hole.
Ginny bumped into him with her hip. “Real observant, Potter.”
“I guess you don’t want to hear about my incredible dream, then?” he said casually.
Despite her half-awake appearance, Ginny’s voice showed surprising enthusiasm. “A dream? Do you remember much of it?”
“All of it, and it was in colour,” Harry said. “I almost never dream in colour. Do you want to hear about it?” He held the door open widely so his friend wouldn’t bump into it.
“Of course! I want to hear all of it.” Ginny’s energy level had jumped substantially, and she slipped her hand in his.
While Harry described the dream, Ginny oohed and aahed in all the right places, occasionally asking questions. Harry finished by recounting his conversation with the headmaster. “I think the dream wanted me to try and understand Dumbledore better, that he can be really helpful.”
Ginny’s eyes narrowed in thought. “While you were telling me the second part of the dream, I kept thinking it sounded a bit familiar.” Harry looked at her in surprise. “You know that feeling when you think you know something or have been somewhere but don’t know why?” Harry nodded his head. “Well, that’s the way I felt when you were telling me about the part with all of the people and the pond.”
Harry looked at her for several seconds. “Do you think we both had that same part of the dream?”
“Don’t know.” Then she grinned. “It would be kind of scary to be inside your head, Mr Potter.”
“Thanks a lot, Weasley,” Harry said while grinning back at her. Opening one of the wooden doors to the Great Hall, he gestured with his other arm. “After you, my lady.”
Ginny curtsied. “Thank you, kind sir.”
Both were laughing lightly when they sat at their usual places at the Gryffindor table. Breakfast passed in a normal mode, with sporadic conversations and greetings from their friends in the other Houses. That is, until the headmaster stopped at their table.
“Good morning, Gryffindors,” he said jovially. After receiving several subdued responses, he turned to Harry and Ginny and his voice dropped. “Harry would you come to my office this evening around seven?”
“Of course, sir,” Harry replied. “Could Ginny come, too?”
“That’s not a good . . .” Professor Dumbledore stopped abruptly. After several seconds of thought, and in a lighter tone, he said, “Of course, Miss Weasley may attend if you want her to. Seven o’clock, then? They both nodded. “Excellent! I will see you then.”
Ginny leaned over and whispered, “Harry! The dream.”
Harry grinned. “I was thinking that, too. Wouldn’t it be great if we could create that kind of relationship?”
Despite anticipating their meeting with the headmaster, the day went by quickly for Harry and Ginny, and soon they found themselves approaching the gargoyle guard.
“Darn, he forgot to give us the password,” Harry complained. He turned to the statue, and the gargoyle moved to the side and gestured them forward with a sweep of his arm. “Thank you.”
Ginny curtsied and joined Harry on the revolving stairs that soon delivered them to the headmaster’s office. The door opened without a knock this time, and a smiling Albus Dumbledore met them at the door.
“Please come in, Ginny, Harry.”
The headmaster gestured them towards the usual two seats. But this time, the professor’s chair was not behind his large desk. Instead, it sat opposite the two visitors’ chairs that had been turned 90 degrees. To Harry, the new setting seemed friendlier, and it eliminated the huge desk that separated the headmaster from his guests.
“Would you like some tea?” he offered.
“Yes, sir.”
“Yes, please.” Ginny had taken Harry’s hand as soon as they sat down, and Harry could feel the moisture already forming on her palm. He squeezed the increasingly slippery hand and smiled at his friend.
With a ‘crack,’ a house elf appeared in the office, holding a tray with a tea service and biscuits.
“Mimsy!” Harry and Ginny both exclaimed.
“Harry Potter, Mistress Ginny, how is yous doing?” Mimsy asked, while placing the service on a small table Professor Dumbledore had just conjured.
“We’re doing great, Mimsy,” Harry replied.
“How are you?” Ginny asked.
“I is fine, Mistress,” Mimsy said. She turned. “Is there being anything else, Professer Albydore?”
“No, Mimsy. Thank you very much.”
With another ‘crack,’ Mimsy disappeared.
The headmaster smiled at his guests. “You two have a wonderful ability of making friends with all types of people and creatures. Most impressive.” The elderly wizard sighed. “Ginny, may I assume you are familiar with at least some of the mistakes I have made with Harry?”
Ginny stared wide-eyed at the headmaster. She gulped before answering. “Y-yes, sir.”
“Please don’t be nervous. I hope in time we can develop mutual trust and friendship between us, and that’s why I wanted to meet with you tonight. Ginny, I am pleased that Harry asked that you be invited.”
“Ginny’s a part of me, sir,” Harry said quietly.
Ginny’s head turned quickly to Harry, her eyes blinking rapidly.
“I can see that,” the headmaster said softly. “You both have very old souls.” He paused a moment to let Ginny calm herself from the effect of Harry’s words. “While my intent had been to discuss several ideas with Harry, I can see that it makes more sense to speak with both of you. In some ways you remind me of some very good friends of mine, Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel . . .”
“The alchemist and creator of the Philosopher’s Stone and his wife? Harry asked in surprise.
“The same,” Professor Dumbledore smiled. “I am hopeful that we can start over, which I acknowledge benefits me far more than it does you. On my part, I realize that I need to be more forthcoming, not hold back information, and to discuss topics with you before we come to a decision.”
Harry nodded. “And it would probably help if I stopped blaming you for everything,” he said sheepishly, a small grin showing on his face.
Albus Dumbledore laughed heartily, while Ginny giggled as quietly as she could. “I would greatly appreciate that, Harry. Do we have an agreement to start over?”
Dumbledore extended his hand. Harry leaned forward and grasped it, shaking the much longer hand as firmly as he could.
“Good!” they both exclaimed.
Harry reached for a biscuit, as the headmaster resumed the conversation. “By being transparent in all that affects you, I think we will eliminate the vast majority of communication problems we have had. One of the areas I think I can be of benefit in your training is in teaching leadership. You already have proven to be a natural leader, and I don’t want to change that at all. Instead, I would like to introduce different schools of thought, as well as give you some practical examples where you can observe people in leadership positions and learn from what they do.” The headmaster smiled. “Of course there may be times when the lesson you learn is what not to do.” Both students grinned.
“Would you two like to have special training, in addition to your regular courses?”
Harry turned to Ginny, who smiled. “That would be great. I really enjoyed the little bit we did with Professor McGonagall during the summer.”
Harry nodded. “The lessons I had with the professor during the summer helped me a lot in my classes once school started, and her lessons during school have helped, too. I would really like to continue them.”
“Good. I know Professor McGonagall has enjoyed teaching both of you, so we will continue those lessons. If you’re interested, there are other professors who want to be involved in your special courses. For instance, did you know that Professor Flitwick was a duelling champion and currently carries the highest rating?”
Ginny and Harry’s eyes both grew bigger. “No, he never mentioned either of those,” Harry said.
“He would like to teach you advanced charms and duelling, but not formal duelling. He wants to train you in real world tactics.”
Harry and Ginny had leaned forward in their chairs, smiles lighting their faces. Ginny said, “That would be fantastic. He wants to work with us like that?”
“Yes, he came to me and asked to be considered, because he had heard about Professor McGonagall teaching you. You will find that Professor Flitwick will provide you with another way of analyzing situations. He was in Ravenclaw for a reason, after all.”
Harry said, “We both really like the professor’s class and think he’s one of the best professors here. It would be fun to learn more from him.”
“Another professor also requested the opportunity to work with you one-on-one, and that is Professor Lupin. Harry, he has told me none of our first year students will duel you any more, with the exception of Ginny. That recommends you for special studies in and of itself. But we all know that both of you are using just the more obvious of your talents.
“Naturally, Professor Lupin would work with you on advanced Defence skills and tactics. But he also asked if he could teach you about magic, where it comes from, how it works, how best to use it. You will find Professor Lupin is one of the leading academics in Magical Theory.”
Ginny grinned. “That would be fantastic. Whatever wandless magic I can do is from Harry showing me where my magic is and how to make it work for me. I’d be cursing leaves for not levitating if he hadn’t shown me how it works.”
Both Harry and the headmaster smiled at Ginny’s endorsement. “I think you will find what Professor Lupin teaches you to be fascinating. As needed, we will bring in Aurors or other experts to teach you skills we have identified as useful.”
“Will we have all of these special courses each week?” Harry asked.
“Probably not initially,” the headmaster said. “We know that neither of you are being challenged academically, but the classes and homework assigned still take up a lot of time. So, nothing is set right now. We’ll certainly continue with Professor McGonagall’s class, since Harry has had it since the start of the school year. We can add from there one tutorial at a time.
“A very special pair of tutors also should be mentioned. In fact, I have earlier in this conversation, and they would be Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel. Once you are well into your training, I would like them to meet you and assess where they feel they would be most helpful. They are a most incredible couple, and you two could benefit in so many ways by working with them.
“How does all that sound to the two of you?”
“Incredible,” Harry said. “Thank you, sir.”
“When do we start,” Ginny added with a grin.
“Next week, I think,” the headmaster replied. “The three of us will meet with your three special instructors, and together we will map out a course of study that will fit your needs.”
Albus Dumbledore’s expression changed rapidly, from relaxed and smiling to almost haunted and downcast. “I do have one last topic to discuss with you. But I think it would be wise to bring your parents in to listen to what I have to say. I will fire call them.”
Ginny and Harry’s expressions quickly matched that of their headmaster. Five minutes later, Arthur and Molly Weasley emerged from the headmaster’s fireplace, both with concern evident on their faces, while the headmaster conjured two more chairs.
“What’s wrong, Albus?” Molly asked while wringing her hands. “Why else would you call us up like this?” She and her husband sat in the offered chairs.
“Molly, everyone is fine, but I do have some information I want to discuss with Harry and his family. Initially, I felt it prudent to wait until Harry got a little bit older, but with his intelligence, maturity, sensitivity, and abilities, I need not consider that restriction any longer.”
Albus Dumbledore took off his half-moon glasses and rubbed his crooked nose. When he looked up, the energy and excitement from discussing the special classes had dissolved, leaving a weary man addressing an issue that pained him deeply.
“From our first meeting, Harry knew something was missing from my explanations. He was right. He — and you, his family — deserve to hear it.” Albus Dumbledore inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly before speaking. “Harry, not long after you were born, I heard a prophecy that involves you . . .”