Harry Potter lay on his bed in number 4, Privet Drive feeling very cross. It was July the 20th and Sirius Black, the only man who had ever loved him like a father, was dead. He had been at the Dursley's for three weeks and had received almost no owls from any of his friends. To make matters worse the weather had been dismal all week, and as it was currently raining he was trapped inside with all three of the Dursleys, who had banished him to his room while they watched the telly.
Harry sighed and hauled himself to his feet. He shuffled towards his open school trunk. He might as well read the first chapter of Hogwarts: A History. At least it would make Hermione happy. He sifted through the robes, quills and parchment until he found the book. Straightening up, he tossed it on his bed. He wanted to get a snack first.
The first step creaked as Harry put his weight on it. He heard someone shift in their seat below. "That you boy?" Uncle Vernon's rough voice called out. "Don't you come bothering us in here."
"Just getting a snack," Harry mumbled back. He hurried down the rest of the stairs.
It was as Harry's foot touched the floor at the foot of the stairs that it happened: the doorbell rang. A chair scraped in the living room as Aunt Petunia muttered, "Who could that be on a day like this?" Harry heard her footsteps approaching as he turned the doorknob.
As Harry pulled the door open he nearly fell over from surprise. In front of him stood none other than Dumbledore, wearing a long purple robe and a black pointed hat. He could not have looked more out of place.
Harry heard a gasp from behind him as Aunt Petunia came around the corner.
"You!" The woman's voice quivered with shock and rage. "What are you doing here?"
"Ah," said Dumbledore, "You are always so straight to the point Petunia. As it seems unlikely that you shall invite us in, I am afraid that we will have to intrude. It does not seem prudent for us to remain out of doors while we speak about the matters at hand."
At the mention of the word 'we' Harry realized that there was someone standing behind Dumbledore. In fact, that someone seemed to be hiding behind the Headmaster, using his billowing robes as a sort of shield. As the wizard stepped into the narrow hallway the figure behind him came into view.
It was Draco Malfoy.
"What is he doing here?" Harry demanded.
"That, my boy, is one of the reasons that I have come to visit you on this rather soggy day," Dumbledore answered calmly. "Now, I believe it would be best for all of us if we could sit down. Perhaps in the living room?"
By this time Dudley and Uncle Vernon had come into the hallway as well. Between the Dursleys, Harry, Dumbledore and Malfoy, it was quickly becoming very crowded.
"What is the meaning of this? Bellowed Uncle Vernon, "I will not be having people like you invading my house!"
"Upstairs," Aunt Petunia ordered Dudley. Looking frightened, the large boy scurried up the stairs and around the corner. There was a distant bang as his door slammed shut.
Dumbledore pushed through the Dursleys and into the living room. "Petunia, Vernon, Harry, please come sit," he invited. "Draco, do you mind waiting in the hall for just a moment?"
Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia trailed behind the headmaster, rather peeved to be invited to sit in their own home. Harry cast a furious glance at Malfoy before following. He shut the door firmly behind him.
Inside the living room was a curious sight. Dumbledore appeared to have conjured a bottle of mead and several glasses out of thin air. He sipped contentedly from one glass. Across the room, two glasses hung in the air, repeatedly rapping the Dursleys on their heads as they resolutely refused to acknowledge their existence. A fourth glass floated towards Harry as he took a seat.
"Now," began Dumbledore, "Our first order of business is that of the will of Sirius Black."
Uncle Vernon started in his seat. "His godfather is dead?" Harry shot his uncle a dirty look.
"In his will Sirius specified that all of his belongings should go to you, Harry. This means, of course, that you add a sizable amount of gold to your vault at Gringott's-" At the mention of gold Uncle Vernon let out a small gasp. Knowing their proclivity for greed, Harry had never told his aunt and uncle about the small fortune left to him by his parents. Dumbledore continued. "Also, the hippogriff Buckbeak now belongs to you. He is currently residing at Hogwarts with Hagrid, under the name of Witherwings. If you wish he can be moved from there."
"No," said Harry, "He should stay there. I'm sure Hagrid is happy to see him again."
A smile spread across Dumbledore's face. "He is indeed. Well, that brings us to the house. In his will Sirius left number 12 Grimmauld Place to you. However, there may be a slight snag with this area of the inheritance. You see, the house has been in the Black family for many generations, passing from father to eldest son. As Sirius was the last male descendant of the Black family, it should belong to whomever he bequeathed it to. However, there is a slight chance that, due to old enchantments, it could have passed instead to the closest remaining relative of the Black family, in this case, Bellatrix Lestrange. If so it would be incredibly dangerous for you to return there. Thankfully, there is an easy test as to the house's true ownership."
Harry looked at Dumbledore and took another sip of his mead. It was warm and sweet. "What is it?" He asked the elder wizard.
"If the ownership of the house has indeed passed to you, then so has the house-elf known as Kreacher. I propose that you test your ownership by calling upon him. If he fails to appear, then we shall know that the house has indeed failed to pass into your possession."
Harry nodded his head. "What do I do?" He asked. "Just call out, 'Kreacher'?"
There was a loud pop as the small, filthy figure appeared in the center of the room. He glowered at Harry, muttering under his breath.
"Yes," said Dumbledore, "Then that settles it. Number 12 Grimmauld Place, as well as all of its contents, have passed to you, Harry. Might I suggest that you send Kreacher to work in the kitchens at Hogwarts?"
Harry nodded his head. "Kreacher," he said, "You will go and work in the kitchens at Hogwarts, until I tell you otherwise."
With a last filthy glare and a loud pop, Kreacher disappeared.
"Now, let us tend to the other matter at hand," Dumbledore continued. He stood and crossed the room where he opened the door and ushered Malfoy inside. Another glass of mead appeared and floated towards the pale boy.
"This young man is Draco Malfoy," Dumbledore began. "Draco, this is Vernon and Petunia Dursley. You saw their son, Dudley, when you came in, and of course you know Harry." Harry glared at Malfoy.
Dumbledore continued, seemingly unaware of the mounting tension in the room. "Unfortunately, circumstances have arisen that make it unsafe for Draco to remain at his home. Because of the heavy enchantments placed upon this house, this is the safest place for him to stay at the moment. He will be remaining here for several weeks, or possibly until the start of the school term."
"No he bloody well won't!" shouted Harry. For once the Dursleys agreed with him, their shouts of indignance filling the small space.
"We won't have another one of your kind here!" roared Uncle Vernon, "Besides, we don't have space for you to drop another boy on us."
Dumbledore sipped his mead calmly in response to their complaints. As the shouts died down, he continued.
"Petunia, I am aware that you have a guest bedroom," he said. "I am afraid that I will have to insist that you allow this young man to stay in it for the time being. I can assure you that I will personally compensate you for any costs that you may incur due to his stay."
"But, Malfoy!" Harry protested. "He's vile! He's-" he cast his mind around, searching for an explanation the Dursleys could understand. "He's a racist! And his father is a Death Eater who tried to kill me!"
As Harry spoke he looked directly at Malfoy for the first time. He was even paler than usual, and his eyes were red and puffy. His face lacked the smug confidence that it usually displayed. As Harry spoke he seemed to sink into himself, gripping the glass of mead so tightly that the blood drained from his fingers. He did not protest.
Dumbledore's calm voice cut in. "That is all very true, Harry," he said. "But you must keep in mind that things can change, and that people are not always as they once were. It is important that Draco stay here for the time being, not for my sake or for yours, but for his own safety."
Uncle Vernon cut in. "Why can't the boy stay in his own home? What did he do to get himself kicked out?"
"It is not a matter of what he did, but what he refused to do," Dumbledore replied. "And he was not 'kicked out', as you put it, but rather taken away for his own safety, as I have been attempting to tell you."
Harry looked curiously at Malfoy. He was delicately sipping mead from his cup. From the corner of his eye Harry noticed Aunt Petunia watching as well. She seemed to find something acceptable in his demeanor. Her tone was significantly more gentle when she spoke.
"Is this really the only option to keep him safe?" she asked.
"I'm afraid that it is," Dumbledore replied. "I am well aware that this arrangement would not be the choice of anyone in this room. However, I hope that all of you can put aside your personal feelings, if only for a moment, to recognize that the safety of a young man is at stake. Years ago, when I asked you, Vernon and Petunia, to take Harry in and treat him as your own son you did so grudgingly. I am well aware that you have never treated him with love or kindness. Yet I am here again, asking you to afford another young man basic decency, so that he can have the opportunity to live freely and safely for at least a short time."
Aunt Petunia sighed in exasperation. "The boy can stay with us." She elbowed Uncle Vernon in the ribs as he opened his mouth to protest. "But for no longer than is absolutely necessary."
Dumbledore smiled broadly. "Then in that case I shall be going. There are many matters that I must attend to today." With a swish of his wand the mead and glasses disappeared. "I believe that Draco brought most of the things that he will need with him, though he left in quite a hurry. If there is anything that he needs please have Harry inform me, and I will gladly compensate you for your expenses. In a few weeks I will be returning to take the boys shopping for their school supplies; due to the current political climate it would be unwise for either of them to venture far into the wizarding world alone."
As the wizard strode towards the door Harry followed him. Dumbledore paused at the door and looked at the boy.
"Harry, if you could step outside with me for a moment," he said, "There is one more thing that I would like to discuss with you. It will be quite quick."
Harry nodded and stepped through the door. With relief he saw that the rain was clearing at last. "What is it, Professor?"
"Harry," Dumbledore began, "I have always been astounded at your capacity to show love. I know that you and Draco have fought for many years, and that there have been wrongdoings on both sides. But I ask that in the next weeks you make your best attempt to give him another chance. He has just been through a very difficult situation, and more than anything he needs a friend."
Harry looked unhappy with this request. "But sir, he's Draco Malfoy. I've given him chances, plenty of them, but he's never been anything but horrid! He calls Hermione a mudblood, and Ron a blood traitor, and-"
Dumbledore cut him off. "I understand that this is no easy thing I ask of you Harry. In fact, it may be the most difficult task I have ever given to you. But I ask only that you try. Can you promise me Harry, that you will at least attempt to be kind towards him?"
Harry looked at the ground, unwilling to answer.
"Well," said Dumbledore, "I really must be off. I will see you in a few weeks Harry, and if all goes well I will be taking both of you to join the Weasley family."
As Dumbledore walked down the path Harry stepped back through the door. He was met with glares from Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, as well as the strangely hollow gaze of Draco Malfoy.
