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SIYE Time:17:31 on 28th March 2024
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Saving Harry
By The Seeker

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Category: Pre-OotP, Alternate Universe, Buried Gems
Characters:All
Genres: Angst, Drama, Romance
Warnings: Violence
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 1040
Summary: What if JKR had never intended the Harry Potter series to be for children? How would Harry’s time at the Dursleys been written? This story focuses on the years Harry lived in the cupboard under the stairs at number four Privet Drive, as well as his first appearance at Hogwarts. The treatment he receives during his decade there is not described in fairy tale terms. The boy who initially develops is not the Harry Potter we know. The story is liberally AU, with different personality traits, events, and relationships used to reflect the changes in this very different Harry and the environment in which he grew up. In the end, through the assistance of a certain redheaded young lady, Harry ultimately finds the life he should have had and rediscovers the qualities he always had inside of him. While I am not a psychologist or child development expert, the symptoms, actions, and behaviors portrayed reflect the realities of child abuse. Appropriate disclosures will be contained in the Author’s Notes above the chapter when warranted.
Hitcount: Story Total: 340139; Chapter Total: 15430
Awards: View Trophy Room




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.




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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.

Mr H Potter
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.

*****


< i>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.
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