Chapter One
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore stood just inside the castle looking out at the snow-covered grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was still trying to decide whether or not he should go visit one little Harry James Potter. The boy would be six and a half, he guessed, and Albus Dumbledore had yet to visit the small boy. It had been about five years since he had placed the orphan on the doorstep of Number Four Privet Drive as well and, despite Minerva's misgivings, Albus believed the Dursleys to be fairly qualified to take care of the wizarding world's tiny savior; they had a son of their own the same age, after all. The Dursleys would not raise him as a spoiled brat with no capacity for love unlike if he would have placed Harry with a magical family.
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore almost decided not to visit the famous child.
What made up his mind that day after the students returned home for the Christmas Holiday Albus could not say. Perhaps Fate, herself, nudged him in the right direction, though he could not tell for sure. Fate was a tricky being with a penchant for thrusting the most undesirable outcome onto an unsuspecting victim. She bathed in man's humility on her more congenial days and reveled in man's terror and anger on days she felt so inclined to do so. Every path was controlled by a twitch of one of her elegant fingers; man had many paths in one lifetime and she enjoyed toying with the pathetic human beings every now and again. Some days, she felt pity for man and gave him a small tap on the head with direction in the right way that was ultimately the better choice- more so for others' sake than for the man's own. Then- then she would smile and sit back on her throne made of whispered choices she created every second of the day and just as often pulled out to give to man.
Man was rather pathetic, Albus mused as he remembered that night five years ago on his way toward the gate. After disappearing with a crack just outside Hogwarts' majestic gates and appearing in front of the unassuming Number Four Privet Drive of Little Whinging, Surrey, Albus smiled. The neighborhood was rather boring, with everything being exactly the same and all. "Yes," he murmured aloud as he stepped up to the door. "Man is rather pathetic at times."
He knocked on the door. Several seconds passed before Petunia Dursley opened the door with a pleasant smile. "Yes?" she asked, her tone light and cheery. "How may I help you?"
"I am here to check on Harry Potter," Albus replied lightly, watching her carefully. He trusted the muggles to take care of Harry because of who he was and what he had done, but his colleague's words from the night he left Harry with the Dursleys still rang clearly through his head. Albus did not miss the look of fury that passed through the woman's eyes.
"I do not want more of your kind in my home," she spat out angrily.
"Ah," Albus said, using the kindest voice he could. "I did not properly introduce myself. My name is Albus Dumbledore."
Petunia froze at the name. Albus loved how his name affected people. It was interesting (and, if Albus was honest with himself, amusing) how people were afraid of a simple name that held little meaning besides as a label on a person. Her words, however, brought his amusement to an abrupt halt.
The woman suddenly frowned. "Well, it's too bad Harry isn't here right now. He's-"
"But mummy," whined a pudgy boy as he peered past his mother's legs. "Harry's in the back yard like you told him to." Again, Petunia Dursley froze, eyes wide in fear. Albus watched the two with curiosity. He wondered why Petunia would have to lie about Harry, or why she would want to in the first place. "And he says it's cold and he wanted me to ask if he could come inside yet."
Petunia tried to shush her child. "Mummy's having a grown-up conversation right now, sweetie. Run along, now, and I'll be in shortly."
"What about Harry?"
Her thin, bony hands clenched her apron. "What about Harry?"
Albus was starting to believe Minerva's words. "I would like to see him, please." Without further ado, and without much care to the callous woman on the threshold, Albus Dumbledore briskly made his way around the house to the back yard. There he found a small child, perhaps four or five, huddled near the door. He wore only a thin jacket over his too-large clothing. There was not much snow on the ground, but the temperature was well below freezing.
"Oh, dear child, what have I done?"
The child in question looked up at the melancholy tone in the old man's voice. His green, innocent eyes widened at the sight of the man standing before him. Albus hated himself when he saw the broken look of hope the child gave him. He knew exactly what he had to do.
Quickly, he gathered the child in his arms. "There, now, Harry," he whispered in his ear. "I'm so sorry."
"F-F-For what-t-t?" little Harry asked as he tried to quell his shivering.
Albus hated himself even more when he heard the tiny voice. "Let's get you inside," he said instead of answering his question. He was not sure if he could answer. Albus walked right in through the back door- after unlocking it with a wave of his hand- and stopped in the kitchen. The old wizard set the boy down who looked up at him in wonder. Albus took out his wand and waved it over the boy. "Is that better?"
"It's so warm!" Harry replied, astonished at the trick and how kind the old man was being to him. He dared not to say anything further as Petunia stormed into the kitchen.
"Out!" she screamed, stomping her foot and pointing towards the front door. She either ignored the fact that Albus Dumbledore stood in her very kitchen, or she had forgotten just how powerful the old man was. Albus wondered if she underestimated him; he did look rather old. "I want you out of my house this instant!"
However, Albus was not done in the little house of Number Four Privet Drive. "Where is his room, Petunia?" He had a sickly feeling he would not like the answer he received.
And indeed he did not. "I kept that freak in the cupboard. Now get out!"
Again, Albus was not yet done with his business in the muggle home. He was outraged at Petunia for keeping the Savior of the Wizarding World in a cupboard. Albus told her so as he made his way to the little cupboard under the stairs. Harry trailed behind him, scared to stay in the same room as his angry aunt any longer than necessary. Albus opened the small door and peered in, horrified at the spiders he saw scuttling about the walls. It was a clean 'room', he could say, but it was tiny. Albus was too large to try to fit in there. A sudden thought dawned on him as he heard the tiny boy's stomach growl behind him. There was a reason Harry looked four or five instead of the six-year-old he was supposed to be. That thought alone infuriated the Headmaster further.
"Sir?" asked a scared, tiny voice behind him. Albus turned to see that Harry had backed away from him. "Why are you angry?"
"I'm not mad at you, Harry." He shot a glare at the woman standing in the doorway to the kitchen. She did nothing to stop him from taking her nephew. She almost looked rather pleased he was taking the orphan off her hands. "I am upset with the woman whom I trusted to care for you. Gather your things, Harry. We are leaving." Petunia's scowl did not change at his words.
Harry hesitated before nodding and doing as he was told. He came out of the cupboard with two tiny, broken figurines of soldiers. One was painted in dark colors and the other in light. Harry clutched them to his chest and looked up at the old wizard expectantly.
Albus gasped, a sharp intake of breath that sliced through the air, cutting the tense silence. "That is all?" Harry nodded. His dark hair flew into his face. Albus sighed and gathered the boy in his arms. "I shall be taking him from your hands, Petunia. I expected better from you- this is your sister's son. He is the Savior. I explained all this to you in the letter."
"And I told you that I wanted nothing to do with your world many times!" Petunia spat back. "Wizards are dangerous and I did not and do not want my child exposed to them! Ever!"
"I am sorry you feel that way," Albus replied honestly.
He left a gaping Petunia Dursley in the kitchen as he stepped out of the house. "This may be a little uncomfortable," he whispered to the small boy in his arms. Harry held on tighter as a response. Albus, with a pained grimace, Disapparated from Little Whining, Surrey.
The Burrow was full of life.
But then again, the Burrow was always full of life. There was always some child or another running about making nonsensical noise. At the moment, nine Weasleys- seven males and two females- sat around the dinner table eating leftovers from the welcome-back feast the night before. There was a mash of noise as the more rambunctious children tried to talk over each other. Four boys- two who looked remarkably similar and the two oldest boys- merely muttered to the brother sitting beside him. The twins, Fred and George, appeared to be scheming with heads bowed, if the side-long glances to their youngest brother were any indication. Bill and Charlie smiled and joined in when necessary, but otherwise said nothing.
A knock at the door silenced all seven children. Arthur stood with a nod to his wife and walked to the front door. Behind it was a small boy with dark hair and an old wizard with a white beard long enough to tuck into his belt.
"Professor Dumbledore!" Arthur was astonished at who his sudden guest was. "What can I do for you? Bill and Charlie aren't in trouble, are they?"
"Just call me Albus, Arthur. I haven't been your professor for a long time." The Headmaster smiled gently at the head of the Weasley family. "And your boys are absolutely wonderful. They are no trouble at all. Has Charlie told you how well he has been doing in Quidditch this year?"
Arthur shook his head. "We've gotten letters, but he hasn't told us much yet. Oh!" Arthur stepped aside. "Do come in! Who's this with you?" He glanced down at the small boy huddled behind the Headmaster's flamboyant robes.
"This," Albus said, gently pushing the boy in front of him as he entered the house, "is the sole reason I am here. I must make a request of you, Arthur. You have the option to deny it and I will be on my way."
"Arthur, who's at the door?" Molly stepped in the room and gasped. "Albus! And- Oh my! Is that-"
Albus nodded slowly, brushing back the dark hair of the boy to show the angry scar on his forehead. "I'm afraid so, Molly. This is Harry Potter. I regret to say I have made a mistake. His muggle relatives are unfit to raise him."
The implication of his words hung in the still air. Molly raised a hand to her mouth, horrified. Arthur looked shocked. The entire house was eerily silent; not even the ghoul in the attic made a sound. The Weasley children were just as impossibly quiet. In the next room they glanced at each other, confused and unknowing of what to ask first or who should ask. None of the children stood, too wary of their mother's wrath if they interrupted.
A sob broke through the still house after a long stretch of silent minutes. "You mean-" Albus nodded again. Molly rushed toward the boy who flinched in response. When he hid behind the bright robes again, another choked sob passed from Molly's lips. "Of course we will take care of him," she managed to say with a strong voice. Slowly she knelt down to the child's level and opened her arms wide to show she meant absolutely no harm. "Come here, child. You poor thing."
Harry looked up at Albus. The old man nodded with a sad smile. Harry tentatively stepped closer to the woman. After several seconds of shuffle-steps he stood in front of the Weasley matriarch. She gently pulled him into a welcoming hug. It calmed the boy, and he melted at her motherly touch.
"It will only be for a while," Albus explained. He sifted through his pocket before pulling out a miniature trunk. He set it down and with a wave of his wand it was its full size once again. "Just until I manage to find a foster family for him. I'll pay for whatever he needs and for his food." He placed a hand on Harry's dark hair. "I'll see you soon, Harry."
"Yes sir," Harry replied, craning his neck uncomfortably to look up at the tall old man. Molly finally let him go. He stumbled back and looked down at his shoes.
Albus left with a nod to Arthur and a smile to Molly.
Arthur looked grimly at his wife. "What should we tell the children?"
"The truth." She stood and took Harry's hand. "Come on, Harry. You're just in time for dinner. Have you eaten, yet?"
Harry shook his head. "No, ma'am. But I'm not s'posed to eat 'til tomorrow."
Molly pulled up short just outside the kitchen and shot her husband a horrified look. To Harry, she asked, "And why not? Young boys like you should be eating three times a day!"
Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. "It's my punishment." His green eyes widened when the woman's kind eyes started leaking. "P-Please don't cry! I didn't mean to make you sad!"
Molly hurriedly dried her tears on her apron. "You weren't the one who made me cry, Harry." She sniffed as Arthur rubbed her back. "I'm so sorry, Harry. If I had known... I would have taken you in and treated you right!" She cleared her throat and stepped into the kitchen where the rest of her clan waited for their parents' return. "This is Harry," she announced, pushing him in front of her. "He'll be staying with us for a little while. Harry, this is Percy, Charlie, Bill, Ginny, Ron, Fred, and George." She pointed around the table at each boy in turn, each who gave a jaunty wave in hello.
"I'm Fred!" exclaimed the boy on the end. He and his twin frowned at their mother.
"Sorry, dear." Molly waved her wand. A chair- just as mismatched as the nine others positioned around the old table- appeared by Arthur's seat at the table. "There you are, Harry! You can sit by Percy." Percy patted the conjured seat beside him.
Harry, on the other hand, blankly stared up at Molly. "You mean... I get to sit at the table?"
The Weasleys glanced at each other. It was Arthur who spoke up. "What do you mean, Harry? Of course you do."
Harry shook his head. "My aunt said freaks aren't allowed at the dinner table. She said I'm s'posed to stay out of sight." He took in their confused looks and looked just as confused as the others. "What?"
Arthur and Molly were surprised when Bill was the one to take the first action at the little boy's words. He stood abruptly and moved to the new chair. He pulled it away from the table, placing it behind Charlie before picking up Percy's chair- with a protesting Percy still in it- to place it where the new chair had been. Charlie, catching on to what his older brother was doing, moved over, scooting his and Percy's food along the table as he moved out of the way. Bill reached into his pocket and pulled out a pocket knife. Molly started to reprimand him for it, but quieted when he started carving into the back of the chair. She was curious at his actions, but frowned disapprovingly when he was finished. Harry and the other Weasleys watched this sequence of events in varying stages of bewilderment.
"There!" Bill put the pocket knife away with a grin. He grabbed Harry by the waist and plopped him down on the chair. Harry's eyes were widened as far as they could without his eyes popping out of his head. "See? This is your chair, Harry- just for you." Indeed, the back of the chair now held the boy's name. Bill pushed the chair close to the table before grabbing another plate from the cupboard for Harry. He ignored his family's stunned looks as he scooped food onto the small boy's plate. He put small servings onto the dish, mindful of how small the already tiny boy's stomach would be if he did not manage to get three square meals a day before coming here like Bill assumed was the case. "Now eat as much as you can, okay? Don't force yourself to eat if you get full, and just tell me if you want more."
Harry nodded, wide-eyed at the older boy. "Yes sir."
"My name is Bill, Harry," Bill told him gently. "Pumpkin juice?"
"What's that?"
Bill pulled over the milk jug instead. "You'll find out later." He cast a worried glance at Charlie who nodded in return. Then he looked at his surprised parents. "Your food is getting cold," he said with a kind smile.
Molly numbly nodded her head and sat down beside Bill. Arthur took his seat at the head of the table, but stayed just as silent as his wife. Both stared at their sixteen-year-old son. The table was still unnervingly quiet, and not a soul moved, just staring at the oldest child at the table. It unsettled Bill, so he struck up a conversation with Harry to rid of his unease.
"I hope you aren't too scared," Bill whispered to the boy. He placed a light hand on the tiny shoulders. His eyes narrowed when he felt nearly only bone. He smoothed his features when Harry looked up at him. "I know what it's like, to be in a place so new and foreign and you don't know anyone. But I promise I'll help you with whatever you need, okay?" Harry nodded, toying with his fork. Bill frowned at how one-sided the conversation felt.
"Me too," Charlie chirped, grinning at the boy between him and his older brother. He glanced at Bill with a look that clearly stated they would be talking later. Bill nodded back in response before helping the newcomer with cutting the meat on his plate.
Dinner was an unusually subdued affair. At one point during the meal the ghoul in the attic started banging on the pipes. The noise frightened Harry enough to force him under the safety of the table. Molly immediately ran up the stairs to quiet the specter. It took Bill several minutes to coax Harry out from under the table with smooth promises and strong hands. Once Harry reappeared above the table, Bill found the dark haired boy's chair nearly touching his own. He found he did not mind all that much; in fact, he felt rather pleased that Harry liked him and trusted him, even if it was only for protection. Still, he went to Bill and not Arthur, and that made Bill even happier. The fact that Harry hardly ate his food caused the happiness to dissipate by the end of the meal.
The issue of the sleeping arrangement presented itself as the kitchen cleared of the large Weasley family plus Harry. The small boy hung by the doorway, unsure of where to go or what was expected of him. Bill took notice of the trunk still sitting by the front door as he stopped in front of Harry.
"So," Bill said, looking around at his family. "Where is Harry sleeping tonight?"
"A cupboard is fine with me," said a tiny voice behind him. Bill whirled around to give the boy a horrified look. Harry's eyes widened at the action. "What?" Bill turned back to the rest of his family, dismay written plainly across his face.
Molly stepped forward angrily, making Harry cringe away. She recoiled as well and stopped her movement, but could not stop the angry tone in her voice as she said, "You will not be sleeping in a cupboard, young man! Why, when I get my hands on those muggles-" She turned around and crossed her arms, mumbling vicious things she could do to the couple of said muggles.
Arthur gave her an amused look before turning back to his children. "Percy and Ron have room in their bedrooms. Though with that ghoul in the attic I would say put him with Percy..."
Bill felt a tiny hand slide into his, clenching his larger fingers tightly. His own hand reflexively gripped the tiny hand in a comforting gesture. He looked down to see a frightened Harry. A cough brought his attention to the other side of the child. Charlie glanced down at the joined hands then back up to his brother's astonished brown eyes. A nod from his brother was all Bill needed to get moving again. "Harry can room with me. Percy, is it okay if Charlie shares with you for a little while?" He turned to the brother in question who nodded rather quickly. Good, Bill thought. He noticed. Smart kid.
Charlie gave an obviously fake yawn. "Let's go set up the rooms before I fall asleep. Fred, George, will you come help me, please?" His tone dared them to ignore his request.
The twins bounded up the steps after their older brother, Percy following close behind. Molly took a wide-eyed Ginny and a scowling Ron up to get ready for bed, leaving Arthur, Bill, and Harry alone downstairs. Harry kept his tight grip on the eldest Weasley child's hand, which Arthur noticed right away. He frowned at his son.
"Don't get too attached, William."
Bill nodded, narrowing his eyes. All the while he thought of ways to help the scared little boy attached to him. The longer Harry held his hand, the quicker Bill saw his life-long dream of becoming a curse-breaker fading before his eyes. As soon as he had seen Harry standing shyly in front of his mother during dinner Bill knew the dangerous job could wait- Harry could not. If that meant he had to quit school right then and there and find a place for the two to live, then so be it. Bill suspected Charlie would help him, knew he would do anything for his older brother- and the actions would have been reciprocated at any time no matter what the circumstances. Bill tightened his grip on the small hand and looked down at the bright green eyes looking hopefully back up at him. It broke his heart, that expectant look.
And Bill knew he could not abandon Harry.
He knelt down and grabbed the other boy's free hand. Brown stared calmly into lovely green. "Let's go get ready for bed, okay kiddo?"
Harry nodded silently, his eyes never leaving Bill's. Bill led him over to the trunk still sitting by the front door and rooted around for a toothbrush and pajamas; both were hidden just under a pile of trousers. Just as calmly, gently, Bill hoisted the boy onto his hip. He marveled at how light the boy was; of course he noticed the lack of weight from the boy when he had lifted him into the chair, but he had passed it off as merely over-using his strength. That was not the case, now. Bill held Harry tenderly, wrapping one arm around the small body and placing the other on his bony upper back.
Arthur watched the scene with a frown. Oh dear, he thought when he saw the tender look Bill gave the little boy. He watched the two disappear up the stairs before banishing the trunk to a corner of Bill's room. Then he made his way up the stairs. Molly met him in their bedroom, and Arthur somberly told her what he had seen and his assumption of their oldest child.
During that time, Bill had made his way and closed the door to the bathroom, barring entrance to his four younger brothers not yet in bed. He heard Charlie shush the twins and a murmured conversation, but could not make out the words. Nothing was said between the oldest Weasley child and the sole surviving Potter as they brushed their teeth. Bill shared his cup with the boy, silently promising to grab one for him tomorrow. Bill gently tugged off Harry's shirt, holding back his surprise at the skinny body it revealed. He went about dressing the orphaned boy as calmly as he could before picking him up again.
"I need to speak with you," Bill told Charlie as they passed in the hallway. He did not wait for a reply from his brother as he headed straight for his room with Harry perched on his hip. Bill still held the boy gently, afraid he would drop or break him. Tiny hands clutched his shirt, but he did not mind one bit.
"Try to go asleep, okay Harry?" Bill asked as he laid Harry down on the extra bed and tucked him in beneath the blankets. "I'll be right back. Just call out for me if you need me, okay?" Harry nodded silently, staring up at the teenager.
Charlie pounced on him right as he exited their old room. "What are we going to do?"
Bill stepped away from the closed door, pulling his brother closer so they could talk in low murmurs. "Mum and dad probably won't want to keep him-"
"You make it sound like he's some pet."
Bill glared down at his brother. "He's more to me than that. Just listen." Charlie frowned at the tone his brother used. It was strange, but it was one he had heard only once before a long time ago when the twins had first been brought home. "If mum and dad don't want to let him stay, I'm quitting school. I'll be seventeen next year, so I won't be missing much."
"Just two years of school."
"Just listen!" Bill hated the way Charlie was making him see sense without actually saying anything. It annoyed him a great deal that he hadn't thought as hard as he probably should have on the issue of the boy in his room. "Harry... You saw him tonight. He was terrified and he chose me for his support. Charlie, he chose me. Me! I... There's this feeling, you know? Like I have to protect him."
Charlie placed a hand on his shoulder. His eyes said more than words ever could. Bill knew for sure, then, that Charlie would go above and beyond for the little boy in the next room. "I know, Bill," he whispered, his voice somber. "I know. I told the twins that under no circumstances were they to prank or tease Harry."
"How'd you manage that?"
"Threatened to tell mum everything," Charlie replied smugly. The smirk fell into a frown and his tone became somber once again. "What'll we do if they don't want to let him stay, Bill?" He took a step back and ran a hand through his long hair his mother tried hard to get him to cut. "You can't just steal him away. He's the Boy-Who-Lived. You'll have the entire wizarding world and then some chasing you. And what about your curse-breaking dream?"
Bill did not know what to say. How could he tell Charlie his latest thoughts on the dangerous job? He leaned back against the wall, neck craned to stare at the ceiling. "Harry comes first," he finally whispered, voice strained at the conflicting thoughts raging inside his skull as he voiced his thoughts from earlier. Merlin, he'd only known the boy for an hour and he was ready to give everything up for the boy!
"What are you going to do after the holidays and he's still here?"
"I don't know. Write to him, probably."
"You're in way over your head," Charlie told him, grabbing his chin and yanking his face down to look at him. "You're in way over your head, and you're going to get hurt. That, or Harry will get hurt or both of you. He's just a little boy, Bill! I don't think he can handle much heartbreak after what his relatives did to him."
"Merlin, Charlie, I know!" Bill shoved the hand away and barely managed to stop himself from hitting the wall behind him with a fist. "I know. I just-" He turned to face the wall, bracing his arms against the wood and leaning his forehead on his tightly clenched fists. He took a deep, trembling breath, betraying his carefully constructed calm and brave façade. "Charlie, I... I'm scared."
A pair of arms wrapped around his waist and a head rested between his shoulder blades. "I am as well, Bill. I don't know what to do, and it scares me that you don't know what to do, either. You always know." He tightened his grip on his brother, his hands clutching at his shirt. His voice wavered as he continued. "If they don't let Harry stay, I'll give you all my savings. I'll pick-pocket, or sell all my possessions and give you the money. I'll provide you with food. I'll-"
"I get it." Bill sighed as Charlie squeezed his midsection. "I know you would do that for me, Charlie, and I appreciate that thought." He sighed again and turned around. Charlie let him go, stepping back to look up at his brother. Bill shook his head. "I don't know. I just... don't know."
Charlie gave him a small smile. "Just do what you and every other Gryffindor do best. Make it up as you go along. I'll talk to mum right quick before going to bed, try to get her to let Harry stay here." Something in his tone caused Bill to smile back.
"Thank you, Charlie," Bill whispered sincerely, hugging his brother close. "You have no idea what this means to me."
Charlie gave him a comforting squeeze before pulling away. He grinned cheekily up at his brother. "I think I know. Good night, Bill."
Bill rolled his eyes. "Good night, Charlie. I'll see you in the morning." Charlie nodded once and disappeared up the stairs to his new room with Percy. Bill watched him until his foot disappeared from his sight before turning back to his room.
Inside he found a peacefully sleeping Harry, curled up under his blankets in a protective ball. If Bill had any doubts about his decision before, they surely left him at the sight of the tiny six year old. Bill silently stole his way to the spare bed, standing right by Harry's head. He knelt down until he could rest his chin on his arms resting on the low bed. Harry looked troubled as he slept, so Bill trailed a hand across his forehead in what he hoped was a soothing manner. The result was instant; Harry's furrowed brow smoothed and a small smile formed on his lips. Bill mirrored the action, his smile slightly solemn as he watched the sleeping child. It morphed into a frown when he took his hand away and Harry looked distressed once again.
The teenager had no idea what to do. Should he wake Harry, or leave him until he awoke himself? Should he wait up until that happened, or should he go to sleep but be ready to comfort him should Harry need it?
Bill sighed, making his choice. He stripped down to just his underpants before sliding under the blankets of his bed. Once under the blankets he turned to face Harry. For several minutes he just watched the other boy sleep under the moonlight that cut across the little boy. It was hard to believe that the Harry Potter was in his house, in his room, sleeping right next to him. And his brother was right; Bill was in way over his head.
In the next moment, Bill was conscious of the fact he had fallen asleep. Next, he was aware of a small sniffling sound coming from his left. He rolled over onto his side until he faced the other bed in the small room. There he saw a tiny form shaking on the bed. Bill shot up, alarmed, and quickly jumped out of bed over to Harry.
"Shh," he soothed, huddling the boy in his arms. "What's wrong, Harry?"
"It's too big!" Harry sobbed, whimpering pathetically into Bill's chest. "I'm scared!"
That was all Bill needed to hear. In one swift, fluid movement, he laid down on his bigger bed with Harry held tight to his chest. "There, there, Harry. I'll protect you. There's no need to be afraid."
Harry gripped at his shirt, clinging on with dear life. "For ever and ever?"
"For ever and ever," Bill promised seriously. And he really meant it, too. Bill would be there for Harry- it would be a crime to ignore the boy's needs- for as long as the scared little boy needed him. "Go to sleep now, Harry. I'll be here in the morning and you can wake me up if you wake up again. Good night."
The tiny voice that replied made Bill hold him closer. He wondered how such short, unbecoming upbringings could make a child so sweet, so helpless, so... Bill didn't even begin to know how to describe the boy in his arms. Harry was many things, yet at the same time hardly anything at all. Bill had almost expected Harry Potter to be big, arrogant of his accomplishments. This Harry Potter in his arms was not that boy. Harry Potter was just that: A name. A name everyone knew but few understood.
Bill wanted to understand. He wanted to understand why Harry was so shy. He wanted to understand what made Harry so frightened.
Bill wanted to know why Fate was so cruel to little children.
But Bill knew why. Or, at least he thought he did. He believed Fate liked to show her superiority over man, but did not believe it at the same time. Bill wondered if maybe Fate was just bored, or if there was even Fate at all. Maybe everything just happened, and there was no reason behind it.
It helped none at all, those thoughts. They did not change a scarred, scared little boy. They did not change the fact that Bill was making it up as he went along like Charlie said.
Harry Potter was just a little boy, Bill realized as he watched far gone child, lost in peaceful dreams. Harry Potter was just a little boy, lost and alone, scared out of his mind. Bill would be the one to help ease the loneliness, chase off the fright, and guide Harry by the hand to lead him straight again.
William Arthur Weasley fell asleep with a smile and promise in his heart.