A/N: This is my new project I've been working on for a while. I hope you enjoy reading it.
Warnings: AU after GoF. Pairing: Harry/Sally-Anne. This fic has many parts and any romance involved won't come along until much later in the story.
Rated: M for violence, language, adult content
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or concepts of the Harry Potter verse. All rights belong to proper owners and no profit is made from this writing.
Summary: With the Ministry of Magic against him and Voldemort seeking his death, Harry Potter knew his only hope was to leave everything he had come to love and seek sanctuary in another land.
What he found went beyond anything he could have imagined.
What he found would help him win a war.
1
Hard To Say Goodbye
1
Fear of A Name
Darkness.
A Heart raced, thumping wildly in his chest, with only a familiar wand clutched in his grip.
"Avada Kedavra."
A blinding flash of green light pierced through the shadows and it in that instant all stilled. His heart frozen in terror.
Death.
The young man thrashed about the bed until he was tangled within the dark blue coverlet. A fine sheen of sweat covered his face, neck and bare upper torso ignoring the cool summer air barely making its way through the cracked window. Legs, strong, kicked at nothing as hands clenched into fists, ripping the fitted sheet away in an attempt to fight the demons that plagued him.
"No," he murmured, his head pushing into the flat pillow, and then he reached up and shoved it away. "No, please, no!" As his desperation grew, a sob of anguish filled the silence of the small room.
Curtains were drawn against the morning light, but the determined sun still managed to permeate the bedroom, much as the nightmarish shadows crept into the teen's defenseless sleeping mind. A beam of sunshine bounced gaily off the full length mirror hanging on the open closet door and onto the clothes piled on the floor that he had pulled off mere hours ago, before crawling bare of all but his underwear into bed.
The last thing he had wanted was something on his skin. It had felt as if something were crawling beneath it. Down his spine, waiting to reach out and clasp him within its grasp. Nausea, dizziness, insomnia were followed by night terrors when he did manage to doze off. He was losing weight due to lack of appetite, and the occasional tremors in his hands and limbs were remnants of dark magic. It had been the same for more than a month with no resolution in sight.
After the first week, he had taken one look at his pale gaunt face, the dark circles beneath his eyes, the body that was being pared down to sinewy muscle and bone and sent a letter off to his friends. Terrified. Frantic for some explanation.
Only to be warned against sending out post.
Lectured on being careful. Cautioned to stay out of trouble. No answers, no help. Nothing.
He would have to endure alone just as he always had.
Each week the symptoms continued, the dreams of death and darkness and each day he felt more and more alone with the sensation of bone chilling fear ever creeping up behind him.
"NO!" he shouted, jerking awake, shaking violently. Wide, panic filled eyes, the brightest of green, almost glowing with their intensity, scanned the cluttered room, looking, searching for something, but the image slithered out of his mind, sinister and intangible.
The wave of nausea hit him hard. He barely made it across the small room to the waste basket before emptying the contents of his stomach. Pain cramped deep within him like a vise someone was squeezing around his internal organs. The cold chicken soup and water that he barely managed to choke down the evening before came up and left him dry heaving until the episode passed.
Feeling his head swim, he reached for the glass of water that sat on his tray, taking only a few precious sips to rinse his mouth and spit out. An old t-shirt wiped sweat and stink from his body. The ritual was painfully familiar. Nightmare. Vomit. Pray for relief.
The cold door was soothing against the heat that raged in his body as he slid down. Heavy limbs flopped to the floor afterwards and he could do nothing but lay there. Dark hair laid sweat soaked and plastered to his head. His chest rose and fell in a shallow race as he tried to drag oxygen into his lungs.
Fatigue swam through his head. A month of existing on troubled sleep each night, malnutrition and the feeling that his life was going to drastically change was finally taking its toll. Gradually, the sweat dried, his breathing slowed and he felt as if he might be able to live for one more day.
Memories of the faces in his nightmares, the death that haunted him floated through his mind.
"I'm sorry," he murmured in a voice that was childlike despite its growing maturity, expressing a different kind of pain. Grief and sorrow. Tears, poured from stricken eyes onto his cheeks.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he repeated over and over as if saying the words would allow him some absolution.
2
In My Mother's Name
The summer Harry James Potter turned fifteen, was the year War began in the Wizarding world. It was a War that had been fought many times before, battles of good verses evil that had their beginnings in simple bigotry. The belief that a witch or wizard of pure blood was greater than those of muggle birth was taught from the cradle and nurtured until the grave. It began centuries before, but was perhaps best known in a clash between two founders of a prestigious school, Gryffindor and Slytherin, once friends only to become enemies.
Slytherin who was wary of the growing muggle discontent, wished to protect the precious magical children who were being persecuted and even out right murdered by those who feared their kind. Slytherin who wished to protect those who were born to magic and cast out those who had ties to the very people who threatened their world.
It was simple for him. Let those of muggle birth stay in their world.
Gryffindor who felt all magical children deserved a right to the gifts they had been granted. Gryffindor who wished to protect and educate them all so they could become productive members of their society. He wasn't ignorant of the threat of muggles but neither was he prejudiced against their magical children of muggle birth.
It was simple for him. All those, whether pure-blooded or muggle-born, who were gifted with magic were entitled to a place in their world.
Over the centuries, of death and strife and pain, the division grew. Slytherin's purpose taken up by many Dark Lords who thought it best to murder the muggle-borns and even muggles if necessary, for they were beneath those gifted with magic and deserved nothing less than to be subjugated to their will. Gryffindor's purpose, upheld as noble and right, by those considered the Light of the Wizarding world.
Yet, the very power they held in such esteem became a corruptible force in magical society. Bigotry endured on each side. Those in power created laws to subjugate any who was considered less than pure of blood. Muggles grew to be considered almost as oddities. Muggle-borns left to endure a prejudice that forced them to chose between remaining in the Wizarding world trying to adapt and accepting a life of second best or returning to the world of their birth and leaving magic behind as a bit of fantasy that had touched their lives for a few short years.
For Harry Potter, half-blood wizard child born of the honorable pureblood family of Potter and a powerful and intelligent muggle-born witch, his life had been forged in the very War that would soon overwhelm the Wizarding World again spilling the blood of all children born of magic. At a little over one year in age, he had been proclaimed by the Wizarding World, as the Boy-Who-Lived, having defeated the dark Wizard known by the moniker of Lord Voldemort. And for over thirteen years, there was calm.
"Blind fools."
Frustrated, the newly turned fifteen year-old crushed the newspaper he had been reading into a tight ball, not caring that his Uncle Vernon would probably be upset when he discovered the destroyed publication. It didn't matter that the paper was at least two days old nor that he had pulled it from the trash that had been tossed out the evening before. Vernon Dursley was a selfish bastard who wished nothing but ill will on the nephew he had been forced to take in all those years ago after the death of his parents.
Unless the reader knew what to look for, the sudden spurt of violence in the media was nothing out of the ordinary. During the summer months it wasn't uncommon for there to be an increase in the number of violent crimes committed. A family murdered by a father who then committed suicide. An explosion that destroyed an entire section of a city business district. A rise in the number of fires, especially in residential areas. They could all be reasoned away by normal muggle behavior. There were no inexplicable happenings. No sightings of a strange green mark in the sky. Nothing that would gain the attention of the Ministry of Magic.
Harry knew otherwise.
One thing was certain, Voldemort had an agenda. One that included remaining out of sight until he was ready for the Wizarding world to be aware of his presence. The murdered families? Homes of muggle-borns who certainly wouldn't be missed by a Ministry that didn't much care for them anyway. Explosions in the city? Businesses that were owned and operated by muggle-borns or half-bloods who had returned to the muggle world. An increase in fires? What better way to destroy evidence, than leaving none?
The Ministry of Magic chose to ignore the fact that Voldemort was alive and had taken the stance that Harry was nothing more than a liar, who desperately needed the attention of the Wizarding world even at the cost of inciting hysteria by proclaiming the return of the vilest Dark Lord of all time. The campaign to discredit him was dragged through the already fickle media, who were happy to print insidious articles reviling him in one sentence and maligning him in the next.
The Wizarding world wanted peace. Their fears from the war, fear of even speaking Voldemort's name, were so strong that they preferred to believe lies of the boy they had held in esteem mere months before. They were common folk, people whose lives were rarely affected by the decrees of the Ministry and therefore could put their faith in the government they had elected to protect them.
He might have been better equipped to handle all of this if his friends had written to him, given him some inclination that something was being done about Voldemort. Instead he was sequestered here on Privet Drive, bound by blood wards and forced to live with his ignorance and the situation didn't appear to be changing any time soon.
"BOY!"
The harsh bellow was followed by a fist pounding on his bedroom door. Only one ham-fisted hand could make so much noise. It belonged to the man who had made most of his life a living hell on earth. He had as much contempt for Vernon Dursley as he had for Voldemort. There wasn't much of a difference between the two in his opinion.
"Yes, Uncle Vernon," he called out, preferring to keep the man on the other side of the door. Yes, they locked him into this tiny hot room but those locks also effectively kept them locked away from him. He would tolerate the heat and cramped space, the crappy meals passed through the cat flap on the door, if it kept the Dursley family away.
"Get dressed, now! You have chores to finish before the end of the day!"
"Yes, sir," he mumbled. You arse, he finished in his head.
And of course he couldn't forget the list of chores he was obligated to complete each day to earn his keep since he was such a burden on the family. The day old bread and fruit for breakfast, a dry sandwich of cheese and warm water for lunch and the sparse piece of meat and handful of vegetables he received for dinner were enough to break their family budget. And of course that was only on days they felt he deserved food. Most times he was given cold tinned soup for all of his meals and expected to be appreciative of their generosity.
He stood and went to gather some clothes as he listened to the locks on his door being unfastened. Without any warning the door was flung open and he was greeted with the sight of his morbidly obese Uncle who was clenching a piece of paper.
"I expect these to all be completed by the time I get home tonight. I'm taking your Aunt and Dudley out to dinner and you'll be back inside where you can cause no trouble. Have I made myself clear?"
"Yes, Uncle Vernon."
If only Snape could see him now. He would love to see Harry Potter so subservient, despite the fact that Snape believed he was a spoiled brat who had his every whim catered to. Harry had learned years ago just to nod his head and agree, if only to move Vernon along more quickly. If he tried to rebel, he was given the business end of Vernon's belt and then locked away with no food until the bruising faded. Vernon wasn't stupid, there were never any broken bones or blood spilled, but the man had learned over the years how to lay a belt across the skin that would cause the worse amount of pain with the least amount of scaring.
The two had come to an unvoiced agreement over the years. Harry wasn't to be seen or heard unless absolutely necessary and do any chores he was given without complaint. If these two simple rules were obeyed, Vernon had no reason to beat the shit out of him. There were days those rules were followed and there were days when Vernon took pride in correcting the miscreant that he was forced to house.
Harry took the paper that was extended to him, Vernon jerking his hand away as if he didn't want the air near his nephew's hand to touch him. It wasn't a ridiculous list, including normal household chores that most teens are given. It was the mere fact that he was expected to do all of them, when the list was probably better suited to be divided between the entire family.
"Uncle Vernon?"
"What do you want, boy! Be quick about it, I'm running late for work."
"While you are all gone to dinner, may I get my trunk from the cupboard downstairs so I can do my summer homework?"
The very idea of magic always had the power to send his uncle into a rage. The man bristled with rage. Harry didn't need to look down to know the man had clenched his fists in warning. "I told you, I didn't want any of that nonsense in my house!"
"If I don't finish it, the teachers will complain and wonder why I spent the entire summer without finishing my work."
He left unsaid that they might come back here to inquire but it was understood nevertheless. The last thing the Dursley family wanted was anyone from the Wizarding world coming to Privet drive to check up on this household. Then it might be discovered that the Dursley family wasn't as 'normal' as they tried so desperately to be.
"Fine, but you had better finish by the time we get home because that thing goes right back into the closet. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Uncle Vernon."
The man sneered as if he smelled something foul, "Fine. Now get downstairs and get started on your chores."
And so began his day, the nightmares and horrors temporarily cast aside leaving him with the illusion of peace.
He spent the day trying to get to the end of the list of chores he had been given. The dishes from breakfast were washed, dried and put away after he ate his allotted toast, slice of tomato, fried egg and swallow of milk. At the near bounty he had almost looked askance at his Aunt, and then he remembered the chore list and understood. They couldn't work him like a slave if he was starving. After days with little of nothing to eat, the food set like heavy lead on his stomach but he wasn't going to complain.
He scrubbed out the filthy bathrooms, which made him wonder if he lived with a pack of dogs that preferred to urinate on the floor rather than in the toilet. With the little work Dudley and Vernon managed each day, he had to wonder how the bloody hell they managed to get the tub so filthy. The bathrooms were always the worst and he was required to clean them at least five times a week. He often wondered how his Aunt managed during the months he was at school or if they were purposefully this revolting because he was the one doing the cleaning.
He mopped floors, leaving the kitchen for last. That was a lesson he learned before he turned nine, as Dudley liked to track mud through the house when he realized who was doing the cleaning and that Harry would get in trouble if anyone saw the filthy tracks.
Laundry was washed, bed linen and towels today, as his Aunt Petunia was an anal retentive cow about using the same linen more than once. The living room was dusted and vaccumed and the rest of the house set to rights by lunch time.
Here he was gifted with a scoop of chicken salad on a thrice day old roll, an apple that looked to have seen better times and a glass of water. At least it was cooling, for which he was grateful because it satisfied his thirst. He could see the remains of Dudley's lunch still on the table across from him. His cousin had gone through four packets of crisps, two cans of soda, and entire packet of ginger biscuits. That's not to discount what wasn't left on the table. He had watched his Aunt prepare the chicken salad this morning as he cleaned the dishes, so it was a good bet that Dudley had plowed through all of it.
He looked up from the last of his water to find her standing over him. "Yes, Aunt Petunia?"
"When you're done, tidy the kitchen. I'm sure Vernon told you we're going out tonight, so you won't need to help with dinner. There is a bit of the steak and kidney pie from yesterday in the refrigerator. You may have that and a glass of milk for supper."
Again, he wanted to know why she was being so gracious but was smart enough not to ask. "Yes, ma'am."
"I went to the nursery this morning and found some tree peonies. It's a bit late in the season but I think they will fit nicely. I marked off a spot in the garden where you'll plant them. And be careful, they will flower poorly if you handle them too roughly."
And here was the reason why she was being so nice.
"You'll get started when you finish cleaning and organizing the garage. I expect the trash to be double bagged. I don't want any mess because you're too lazy to do it right the first time. After you finish the garden, you'll finish the list of chores your uncle gave you or you can forget about dinner."
After cleaning the garage, he only had to store the winter wardrobe boxes in the basement. It figured they were too lazy to do it themselves and waited until he returned from school to have him launder the clothes and pack them away. There was so much junk down in the basement, he didn't know how they kept track of it or even bothered to keep it. Every fall, Vernon went out and bought Dudley new things anyway. They were too selfish to consider giving the things away to families less fortunate.
With his outdoor chores complete, he still had two hours before his uncle returned home. There wouldn't be much time later and he didn't want to get dirt everywhere and be forced to clean up again, so he quickly rushed through a lukewarm shower and changed into a pair of ragged denims and a t-shirt. His aunt took one look at him and sneered before returning to her room to dress for the family's evening out.
It took him almost ninety minutes before he had taken all the boxes down and arranged them neatly in the basement. Tired, he made two last trips from his bedroom. The first was to the kitchen to heat up his dinner and bring it upstairs and the second to retrieve his trunk from the cupboard that his Uncle had unlocked before leaving for work. No one bothered to check to see if he was okay. No one even bothered to tell him they were leaving, all he heard was the sound of the front door slamming and eventually the car driving away.
The house was quiet, his stomach was filled and he might actually get some work done.
He was well into reading through the chapters for his Charms assignment when a burst of fire announced the unexpected presence of a wizard in his bedroom. Startled, he jumped from his chair, wand in hand, only to stop and gawk.
"Professor Dumbledore?"
The Headmaster was dressed in his usual lurid shaded robes, these were an awful combination of puce and lime. Fawkes sat contentedly on his shoulder, which explained the fiery entrance. In fact, the phoenix looked rather pleased with having startled him if Harry wasn't mistaken.
"Good evening, my boy. I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
"No, I'm just working on my summer assignments." He explained while gesturing to the parchment spread across his desk.
A pleased smile touched Dumbledore's mouth and he nodded in appreciation. "I'm sure Ms. Granger will be pleased. She's been rather stern with Mr. Weasley these past weeks about completing his own course work."
"They're together? I think I knew that, from the letters they sent. Where are they?"
"Perhaps we should sit first?" Dumbledore offered, though his genial smile had turned quite serious now.
"Sorry." He glanced around his bedroom, seeing no where but his desk for the Headmaster to sit and feeling more than a bit ashamed at the circumstances his relatives forced him to endure. Seeing his predicament, Dumbledore quickly conjured his own seat, a large plush chair that was just as gaudy as the robes he wore. Fawkes left his shoulder and settled on his window sill so he could observe their meeting.
Harry accepted the offer of tea, and Dumbledore summoned a service. They shared a perfect cup of Earl Grey. His was a touch of sweet with a healthy dollop of milk and the professor's with lemon and given four cubes of sugar. He barely held back a grimace at the thought of drinking something so sugary.
"There are several things we need to discuss Harry, and I'm sure you have many questions of your own."
Of course he had questions. He wanted to know everything! What was happening with Voldemort? What was being done to stop him. Most of all, he needed to know what was happening with his friends and why they hadn't written more than those stupid letters telling him not to worry and to behave since the summer began.
"I believe your first question concerns Voldemort?"
"Yes Professor. I've been watching the reports on the television when I could and reading the newspapers. They've been attacking, the Death Eaters, I just know it but they're doing it secretly. The Daily Prophet isn't reporting any of the muggle-born murders as anything more than accidents."
"It is my belief that the night of Voldemort's resurrection, not all went according to his plans. You stated that after he summoned his followers, his intentions were to put an end to the idea of Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived. Fortunately for the Wizarding World, you managed to foil Voldemort's plans. So rather than openly attack, he has begun to operate covertly."
"What happens now?"
"Well, Minister Fudge is unwittingly giving Voldemort the time he needs to regroup and further his aims. By denying Voldemort's return and refusing to implement measures to prepare our world for what is sure to be a return to war, Cornelius gives Voldemort the opportunity to strengthen his forces and make numerous strategically planned assaults."
No! Why would someone be so purposefully blind? If Voldemort had the time to get strong, then it would be next to impossible to stop him. Didn't they learn that from the first war? "What are we going to do to stop him? There has to be a way of showing everyone he's back!"
"Calm yourself, Harry. You shall be doing nothing for the moment."
"What? But I've already faced him, once! I know-"
"I'm not denying that you have genuine desire to help. What you must understand is that now is not the time. You are not ready."
Fine, he could accept that. After their confrontation in the graveyard, he knew he wasn't ready to face Voldemort again. He might not be as lucky as he was the last time. "Then I should train right? You'll be training me. Voldemort is going to come after me again and with training-"
A wizened hand stopped his hurried words, "No."
"But, Professor!"
"No Harry." Dumbledore set his cup of tea aside and pinned him under a powerful stare that was impossible to break. "Now you must listen to me. You say you're ready but a mature well-learned wizard knows when to take action and when to listen to those older and more experienced."
Chagrined, he could do nothing but squirm back into his chair. "Of course, Professor. I meant no disrespect."
"I know you didn't, Harry. What I say next will be difficult to understand, as so many things are in these increasingly dark days. There are changes taking place in our world, with fear as their main motivator. As we speak, a ministry driven campaign has been launched with the sole purpose of discrediting our belief that Voldemort has returned."
"I just don't understand."
"Cornelius uses the Daily Prophet as his tool, knowing it will reach the masses and each magical person who fears to even speak Voldemort's name will gladly believe the minister in the hopes to hold on to their sense of safety."
He had already guessed at that but this was Dumbledore, surely he was able to stop them. "And we can't do anything?"
"For the moment, we can only reach those who are willing to believe and prepare for the worst."
"And I just do nothing. I go to Hogwarts and pretend nothing is happening. I let Fudge and the Prophet call me a liar and Voldemort goes on murdering innocent people like Cedric?"
"No. In fact, that is the reason I came to see you today."
It wasn't difficult to see where Dumbledore was going, the truth set like a heavy stone in his stomach. "You don't want me to return to Hogwarts do you?"
"I'm sorry Harry."
This time he didn't bother to remain in his seat. His furious pacing only mirrored his racing thoughts. "You can't do this. Hogwarts is my home! You can't make me stay here with them, I hate it here!"
"Harry please."
"It's not fair! I'm to be punished because Voldemort's back."
"Harry," a firm grasp of his arm cut off his angry words. "Please allow me to finish before leaping to the wrong conclusions."
Reluctantly, he sat back down, a petulant frown creasing his face. "I'm sorry." But he really wasn't because it sounded like Dumbledore was implying that he wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts in September and he just couldn't imagine not returning to the Wizarding world.
It was where he belonged. Not here tucked away like something to be ashamed of. He got enough of that here at the Dursley's.
"The Ministry has decided to take an interest in Hogwarts. Given the previous years and our difficulties in finding a proper Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Minister Fudge has elected to place their own official in the position. Can you deduce a reason why the Minister would make such a decision?"
It took several moments but finally he did come upon one reason. "A spy. Fudge wants to monitor what happens at Hogwarts. To see if we're trying to convince the students that Voldemort has returned."
"Precisely. Now, with Voldemort's return, I would ordinarily say that Hogwarts is the safest place for you. Yet with the Ministry's interference, I am saddened to admit, this is not the case. Therefore, I've arranged for you to attend a different school this year under an assumed identity, while Harry Potter employs private tutoring due to his distraught from the events of the Tri-Wizard Tournament."
3
What's In A Name
The next morning a few minutes after seven, he could hear the loud fussing of his Aunt Petunia as she complained about the disruption of her precious daily routine by the freaks like her nephew. Yesterday's truce was evidently over. He fought down the pang of hurt that always managed to twist in his stomach whenever she called him that. He should be used to it by now. They had called him all sorts of insulting names like freak and worthless for as long as he could remember. Yet for some reason it always hurt to know that his Aunt, his mother's sister, felt that way about him.
"Just a while longer," he murmured aloud, assuring himself that he could survive a few more days of being hated. He had survived more than ten years of it, after all.
The sounds of padlocks opening on his bedroom door pulled him from his more depressing thoughts. It was too bad the Headmaster had used Fawkes to travel directly into his bedroom. Perhaps if the man had seen the bolted door he would take Harry's concerns about his relatives more seriously. He would hate to think Dumbledore knew he was treated like an Azkaban prisoner and chose to ignore it.
The door creaked open and Harry immediately noted the familiar face. "Professor Lupin?" His smile of greeting was genuine, for he was always pleased to see one his parents' friends.
Not much had changed about his former DADA professor. The dark blue jumper and trousers he wore in deference to Muggles were still worn and shabby. As it was more than a week after the full moon, he didn't look quite as exhausted or ill from his transformation.
"Oh, I'm supposed to ask you something." The strange message was difficult to recall but finally it came to him. "'All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players.'"
"'Now go we in content To Liberty, and not to banishment.'" Remus answered in return, repeating the phrase that Dumbledore had told him to expect, proving that Remus was indeed the former DADA professor and not an enemy in disguise. "I'm glad you remembered. It's important that you be careful, especially now. And it's been a while since I've been your professor, Harry. You're welcome to call me Remus."
"Are you planning to let me in, Remus, or do I get to stand out in the hall for this visit?"
Remus smiled at his obvious startle but did stand aside to allow his companion to enter the small bedroom as well. Whoever Harry had been expecting, she certainly wasn't it.
"Good morning, Harry."
"Hi," he greeted cautiously, his wave unsure.
Dumbledore explained that two members of the secret organization he headed would be arriving this morning to collect him. The Order of the Phoenix was founded during the first war to help combat Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Professor Lupin was a previous member, along with his godfather Sirius and his parents.
"Harry this is Emmeline Vance. She's a member of the old crowd that Professor Dumbledore would have spoken with you about."
Ms. Vance was a beautiful woman, which caught him off guard. Not that he hadn't seen pretty women before but he just didn't expect to be entertaining them in his shoddy bedroom here on Privet Drive. She looked to be around the same age as Remus, though her dark waist length hair lacked the premature streaks of grey that marked Remus' wearing life as a werewolf. She wore muggle clothing, a purple sundress with prints of butterflies in different sizes and sensible black leather ballerina flats. In deference to the chill in the air, a black cropped cardigan covered the dress. The unassuming clothing did nothing to disguise how attractive she was.
A smile curved a full mouth, put a light in cornflower blue eyes, as she stepped forward and extended her hand. "Call me Emmy." Then she gripped his hand firmly, proving there was strength behind the feminine exterior. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Sirius speaks of you often."
"Constantly," Remus snorted with good humor.
"You know Sirius?"
"Yes. I knew your parents as well, as I was apart of the old crowd the first time around."
"The old crowd? Is that the," he paused as both of them tensed because he was getting ready to say the Order of the Phoenix.
"We say old crowd when we're in polite company. Keeps things simple when you can't be certain who is listening," Remus explained.
The caution wasn't to be taken lightly, Harry reminded himself. Voldemort had spies and ears everywhere and given what Dumbledore told him about the Ministry, they could probably be counted as the enemy as well.
"So are we ready?"
"I guess so." Though he wasn't quite sure if he was at all.
"Briefly, Dumbledore created this portkey to take you directly to a safe house, our first stop before we move on. There, we'll make a few plans. We won't discuss that here, to err on the side of caution."
Remus removed an old hairbrush that was missing more than half of it's bristles. "Make sure you're touching it." He reminded them, though Harry didn't think he would ever forget how to travel by portkey. Not after the Tri-wizard Tournament. Not after Cedric and the graveyard.
"Shakespeare."
The tug at his navel was still the same jerking sensation he remembered and then they were flying through space at speeds high enough to make him feel nauseous. Remus and Emmy landed neatly, while he ended up sprawled on a thick brown throw rug at their feet. Emmy grinned offering a hand to help him off the floor.
"Welcome to my place," she gestured broadly. "It's humble but it's home." The flat was very nondescript with dark chocolate furniture, soft blue walls and accents, wood trim and bookcases, as well as a fireplace that looked big enough for him to stand in.
"We have time for tea before we take the next portkey. Dumbledore thought we should discuss our plans for the day before heading out. There are some pretty secure wards on this flat, and with a few well placed charms we should be fine to speak freely."
"What plans do we have to make? I mean, Dumbledore explained about attending a new school and that I needed to think about a disguise but there isn't much more to be done, not really."
"It's simple Harry. The ministry will be searching for Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived. Complete with messy hair, baggy clothes and scar."
"I don't think there is much to be done about the scar. I looked for glamour charms back in my second year but nothing was strong enough."
"I have some friends who were willing to share some of their trade secrets. A few well placed charms and you should be safe for today. There are more permanent measures planned for the next year. Come, let's have a cup of tea and finish our discussion." Emmy offered before leading the way to the rather small kitchen.
There was a small square shaped table in the center of the room that he and Remus sat at while she went to the sink and began filling a white ceramic tea pot. After a quick tap of her wand, they were settled at the table each with a cup of a dark English Breakfast tea. After learning he hadn't had breakfast, she placed a platter of girdle scones, tea breads and pastries on the table. For once his stomach responded favorably as he ate one of the crumbled topped muffins that were filled with a tangy yellow curd.
The tea was perfect, hot and creamy, and he almost hated to mar the moment with talk of escape.
"So how do we go about hiding me from the rest of the world?"
"It's simple," Emmy answered, "You will be the complete opposite of what the public expects of Harry Potter."
It couldn't be that simple. "If Dumbledore believes this is the safest option, then I guess I can't complain. It will just be weird to be away from Hogwarts and my friends."
"You don't have to worry about safety. I'm sure the school you'll be attending will have wards comparable to Hogwarts. We're probably biased because we love Hogwarts so much," Remus answered.
"I don't know if Dumbledore explained this to you but your friends, Ms. Granger and the Weasley children won't be attending Hogwarts this year either," Emmy explained after taking a sip from her cup.
No he hadn't. "But why!"
"For the same purpose as you. The ministry knows the people you're closest to and wouldn't hesitate to cause them harm."
"Where are they going?" Dumbledore had yet to tell him the name of the institution where he would be spending the next year either.
"I don't know." Remus spoke up. "We were all simply informed of the change in education for you all. I think he's kept their locations a secret to prevent any leaking of valuable information."
"So we're all to be torn away from Hogwarts simply because the Ministry is so stupid."
"Harry look," Remus took him by the shoulder and turned him so they were face to face. "I know you're concerned about your friends but I need you to do something."
"What?" Though he didn't like the way Remus sounded.
"The Weasley family is taking care of each other. Ms. Granger's parents are there for her and we have members patrolling near their home to ensure no danger reaches them. All of your friends have people from the old crowd who are trusted and capable of defending them against attack. I need you to allow us to look after you for once."
"I can take care of myself."
"I'm sure you can, Harry, but for the sake of your parents and your godfather who is currently insane with worry for you because he can't be here himself, please allow us, allow me, this chance to look after you as I haven't been able to all of these years."
"I just don't think," he stopped at the plaintive look on Remus' face. It was difficult to argue with the man, especially when his intentions were only for his well being.
"Let's try this differently, maybe it will help you to feel better about accepting the situation better," Emmy broke in. "With the old crowd, sometimes each of us is given a mission from Dumbledore. We have to utilize all of our resources to make sure that we stay safe and fulfill that mission."
"I guess."
"Now I know you're angry and you're probably ready to jump in and fight You-Know-Who but that's not your mission right now. Your mission is to stay safe and learn as much as possible, so that if the time comes when you're drawn into a fight with Death Eaters, or even You-Know-Who, you'll be better prepared to make it out alive."
"I get it," he relented. "Really, I do. But that doesn't mean I have to like it."
"Well we don't expect miracles," Emmy snorted before nudging his shoulder.
"What you can do is take advantage of this opportunity. You have such potential, proven by the way you performed in the Tri-Wizard Tournament."
"I had help there," he reminded his old professor. Not only from Hermione but from the fake Professor Moody who had been a spy for Voldemort to ensure he made it through the three trials.
"So did the other champions," Remus countered. "It was you who had to fulfill those tasks. Facing an adult nesting Dragon, the depths of the lake, that maze. It was you who was confronted by a newly risen Voldemort and survived."
"You're making it sound worse than it actually was, well except for the facing Voldemort part. That was pretty horrible."
"And it was you who performed a fully corporeal Patronus at 13, saving his godfather from attacking Dementors."
"You definitely helped there," he fidgeted, uncomfortable with the seeming praise that Remus was giving him. "What are you trying to say?"
"I think you should take this opportunity at the new school and make the most of it. Reach beyond what you accustomed to doing. Work harder. I think you might surprise yourself."
Harry understood exactly what Remus meant. How many times had he relied on Hermione to help him understand something or with his work? How many nights had he slacked off with Ron playing chess or exploding snap or talking about Quidditch, then rushed to finish an assignment that was due the next morning?
These were bad habits he had formed during his younger schooling years here with his relatives. There were too many times when he had been punished for performing better than Dudley or worse penalized because a teacher believed the derogatory things his Uncle said about him. So he had learned not to try as excelling had never been rewarded on Privet Drive.
At Hogwarts, he was expected to live up to the reputation of the Boy Who Lived. People wanted him to behave and react a certain way. Even his friends to a certain extent. It was okay to perform well in Quidditch because it was a sport his father enjoyed and any Gryffindor worth his red tie enjoyed. Hermione was the exception not the rule. He should perform well in Defense Against the Dark Arts because it followed the repute of the Boy Who Lived.
At a new school, there would be no preconceived notions. No Slytherins sabotaging his work or spreading rumors. No looks or stares or whispers behind his back.
No Snape.
A grin of pleasure curved his mouth upwards as he realized he would have an entire year of Potions without the hatred of Professor Snape pouring down upon him. Suddenly this year away didn't seem so horrible.
4
A Rose By Any Other Name
Harry could honestly say the excursion wasn't as horrible as he anticipated it would be. The trio spent the morning clarifying the details of his new identity. Many of Emmeline's suggestions were overruled for being too complicated. Simple things he never would have considered, though Remus had warned him that it was the little details that often gave away the game.
He decided to stick as close to the truth as possible, creating the persona of a fifteen year old half-blood wizard from England who lived with his Aunt and their family because his parents had been killed in the first war. He lived in a small inclusive Wizarding community that had some occasional interaction with the muggle world which explained his understanding of muggles.
After Remus reminded him, he had decided upon Rosalind for his mother's name and Jacob for his parents names. Rosalind worked as a Healer at the community health infirmary and Jacob was a teacher.
He refused to pretend to be a rich or a pure-blood because there were just too many things about the Wizarding world that he still didn't know that would instantly betray him. He also had an abhorrence for acting anything like Malfoy, who for him represented every bad characteristic of a well to do pure-blood teenager. Neither did he want to emulate Ron nor the other Weasleys. Despite being a wonderful family, being a poor student would also draw unwanted attention.
Instead, he would take this opportunity for what it truly was. A chance to be Just Harry, as he had always desired.
The next portkey dropped them off in the midst of a small affluent magical community near Manchester called Havershire Cross, where they decided he would say he lived. They took a quick tour to get him acquainted with the area, especially the residential section. He and Remus had even jokingly picked out a house where his supposed family lived.
"I think it's nice," he shrugged at the searching look Emmeline gave him. The house wasn't anything special, a simple two story cottage with a large front yard blooming with roses. He heard barking coming from the back and smiled at the thought of a family living here with this neat garden and its white picket fence, complete with dog.
"So who tends the yards?" she asked with a small grin.
"That would be me, though I do get an allowance for it, unlike back at the other place." They had reminded him to be careful how much information he revealed while they were out in public. "Are the others' stories this detailed?"
"Not really," she told him. "There is a reason why we have to be so cautious with you. We aren't just being difficult."
He didn't want to think too much on the whys and wanted to just enjoy the outing. "So, what are we tackling first?"
The two glanced at each other and he had the feeling he wasn't going to like their response.
"I thought we could fix those eyes of yours first. Harry Potter's glasses are almost as famous as Harry Potter himself."
"Don't forget the scar," Harry felt he should point out. Emmy had brought him a potions based cosmetic concealer to neutralize the affects of his scar. Remus and Emmeline smiled remembering how he had argued about creating a new identity due to the scar on his head that was so well known. The fact that resident snarky Potions Master Snape had created it make him slightly ill as Harry knew he would eventually have to thank the man for going to all the trouble, even if Dumbledore had ordered the professor to do it. It was only proper after all.
The town of Havershire Cross was aptly named, with its four main streets forming a cross. At the intersection was the business district that was similar to Diagon Alley but with more upscale shops. There was even a smaller branch of Gringotts and an Inn strangely called Poking the Dragon. Both were at opposite ends of the cross.
The oculist healer they took him to was a crotchety old man, who opened the door to his office with a sneer of Snape-like proportions on his face. Harry had been tempted to turn around and leave. Sensing his state of mind, Remus grabbed his arm and pulled his stiff form inside.
The interior of the office was neat, if not a bit tattered with age but managed to be welcoming despite its owner's attitude. In less than forty five minutes, he was examined and then given a potion that would correct his eye sight for the next six months. The healer explained that there were no permanent repairs for his eyes since he was under the age of seventeen and hadn't reached his magical maturity. He was given four more doses placed under a stasis charm for later on which were kept in a small leather case.
With a face not quite used to being free of glasses, they headed further into the center to the clothiers that lined the street. Again, he and Remus stepped aside and allowed Emmeline to take charge. This was probably a large mistake considering her reaction to his clothes before they left her apartment. After sneering in disgust, she had whipped out her wand, waving it furiously as she chanted. His over-sized trousers shrank down to fit better, the snares in his shirt mended as its size arranged to fit better as well. He had decided to wear his school shoes for the day but they weren't much better as he had been forced to wear them all year.
Her harsh words concerning his wardrobe and muggles who provided it, probably should have made him feel bad but he knew the Dursleys didn't care about him. The only reason he didn't complain about his clothes was to keep the peace with his friend. Ron was forced to wear hand-me downs from his older brothers and Harry hadn't wanted to make his friend feel bad. Especially after seeing those hideous robes Ron had to wear to the Yule Ball.
Shopping for clothes was easy but tiring. He managed a full wardrobe, including several formal robes in charcoal, black, navy and a dark hunter green that both insisted he should have. It was nice having clothes that fit. Both Remus and Emmeline lent their experience of what a young well heeled wizard should have in his wardrobe because he had no clue. He'd never owned things like monogrammed handkerchiefs and pocket fobs, and he barely had two pairs of shoes and now he had twelve.
And that didn't include the knee high boots in a buttery leather that he thought would make him look pretentious but actually looked nice with his formal robes.
Since he wouldn't be returning during the winter break, a cold weather wardrobe, along with winter cloaks and accessories, were purchased as well. The entire kit would be forwarded to Emmeline's apartment for safety measures because it was simply too much to try to shrink and carry with them. This lead them to purchasing three new trunks, a hold all bag for traveling as well as a messenger bag for classes.
"You'll be able to purchase your school robes and supplies when you get there." Remus told him. "Sirius is taking care of everything." When it looked like he would protest. Remus had shrugged and smiled. "Godfather's privilege. We're also going to open a new vault for you to use at school under your new name. This way any purchase you make can't be traced back to Harry Potter."
Their last stop of the day took them closer to the end of the cross. Before he could speak, Emmeline had grabbed his arm and dragged him into what he discovered to be a beauty salon. "Oh no! Not here!"
Remus earned a glare for his snort of laughter that he tried to hide behind a hand, while Emmeline didn't bother to hold hers back. He struggled against their forward progress into what he had deamed girl territory, shocked that she had such a strong grip.
"Come on! You can't be serious!"
"Look," she paused staring down at him. "One of the reasons why I chose Havershire Cross was this place. It's one of the best magical salons in Manchester."
"For girls!" he ranted until she pinned him with another glare.
"Take a gander, kid, there are men and women in here. We need to get the rest of this done and this is the best place for it."
He wasn't too keen on changing his hair in the first place and had thought they forgot when no one brought it up again as they were shopping. He should have known better. Rather than continue to protest the inevitable, he took a look around as Emmy suggested. After several minutes he realized it wasn't as bad as he thought. There was no pink. Thank Merlin. Or frilly things. Thank Bloody Merlin. The basic color scheme was a bold black and white with lots of plant life added for color. As they approached the front counter where a witch sat tapping a quill against her lips, he had to take several deep breaths to calm the panicky feeling in his stomach.
"It'll be fine, kiddo," Remus whispered in his ear, placing a calming hand on his shoulder.
"That's easy for you to say, I'm the one who has to sit through it," he muttered. That brought on another snort and it was clearly still amused. Then he had a horrifying thought. "If you tell Snuffles I'll kill you. And you should believe me, I killed a basilisk in my second year with a sword, so you'd be pretty easy."
"Too late, he already knows." Fuck! He would never live this down. Especially not with Sirius teasing about it. "Don't worry, he's the only one."
"He's enough," he sighed resigned.
They both looked up to see Emmy speaking with another man Harry never would have expected to work in a beauty salon. His hair was a short spiky burnished gold that brought out the very masculine lines of his face. His eyes were amazingly the same color. He was dressed in a simple dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and black trousers that molded perfectly to long lean legs. The only thing that gave away his profession was the smart white apron tied around his waist that held pins and clips and combs that he would typically use. The smile he gave them revealed a dimple in his left cheek.
"Emmy, how is my fiercest witch." And there was nothing effeminate about his remark either, not with that husky baritone. "Still catching criminals?"
They hugged quickly, with Emmeline busing a kiss over his scruffy cheek. "Ham, I'm fine. I don't have to ask how you're doing because you still look like a walking advertisement for sexual favors."
"I blame my wife, of course. She keeps me very happy."
"It shows," she snickered.
"So," Ham turned that piercing gaze in his direction. "This is my last client of the afternoon."
Ham didn't use his first name but Harry was sure the man knew exactly who he was. "Hamilton Lillienfield, at your service."
Harry took the offered hand and shook it. "Nice to meet you." But he didn't offer his own name as he had been cautioned.
"If you'll all follow me back, I have a private room prepared for us."
They followed him through the elegant salon to the back room and he closed the door behind him. It was larger than he expected with the usual chair for the client and table that held lots of combs and bottles. There was also a large plush couch in forest green where Remus and Emmeline could sit. On the coffee table, there were glasses and a pitcher of what looked like pumpkin juice but he couldn't be too sure, as well as several tidbits to be nibbled on.
"So, what exactly do we need?" Ham asked of Emmeline who was definitely in charge of this portion of the programme.
"New hair. This black mop is just too recognizable," she answered, giving his hair a ruffle. "I'm thinking a cut and color."
"Color," Harry interrupted, "We never said anything about color."
"I guess we thought you understood that," Remus put in, with a shrug, as if it wasn't a big deal that they wanted to do these things to him.
"Let's see what we can work with," Ham turned to the large mirror behind him. It was mounted in an elegant frame that looked like it belonged in some woman's bathroom rather than here. He tapped the mirror with his wand and said, "Client, Smith One." Then there was a bright flash of light as if someone had taken his picture but Ham said nothing, neither did Remus or Emmeline, so Harry didn't either.
"Let's start off with color." The mirror changed, and his reflection had a hair of platinum blond hair that reminded him sickeningly of Draco Malfoy.
"No!" The shout echoed from three different directions.
Harry moved his head, turning left then right, grimacing and the reflection made the same face proving that it was indeed him in the mirror looking like the ferret.
Ham just chuckled. "Relax, that's just the starting color." A few more taps against the glass and the hair was more of a tawny blonde. It wasn't just the hair on his head either. His eyebrows and lashes had adjusted so they were of a comparable color as well. He looked nothing like Harry Potter, especially with the scar and glasses missing but it still looked too artificial. They all agreed.
"How about a dark auburn?" Remus suggested.
Ham's face grew thoughtful, then a few taps later, his hair was a dark red which wasn't bad at all and there was a lighter red highlight if he turned his head a certain way.
"It's not quite your mother's color but it's close."
That decided it for him. "This one."
"It's looks good on you, especially with your skin tone."
"And definitely not ginger like the Weasleys," Emmeline added.
"Now how about length?" Ham tapped the glass and his hair went from its normal cowlick mess to short and blunt like his. Harry was tempted because the style looked good to him but he thought it seemed to emphasize his features, especially his eyes.
"How about something longer," Emmeline suggested. A tap later and his hair lengthened just to his shoulders, slightly shaggy and framed his face. There was a natural slightly off center part so that his hair could fall slightly over his brow if he wanted. It was simple, with enough hair to remove those wild cowlicks that refused to lie down.
"I like it," Remus nodded at the reflection. "As you're the one who has to live with it, what do you think?"
"It's not too drastic. That's a good thing. I look like myself but I think it will be different enough to not draw attention."
"It looks good on you," Ham said. "Doesn't take much up keep. It's a good wash and go style. It's also long enough if you wanted to pull into a ponytail," He tapped the mirror and his hair was pulled back into a ponytail. It didn't look bad but he probably would never wear it that way. "The length is just proper for a young family head."
"I think I'll go with this."
"Good, so we'll go ahead and get started. We have a deep clean facial, manicure, pedicure, a hair lengthening potion, a cut and color, and an eyebrow tint."
"What!" They hadn't agreed on all of that. The chair turned around and reclined jolting him backwards into a supine position. "Remus!"
"Just lay back and try to enjoy it, kiddo." Remus snorted, obviously amused again.
5
You Don't Know My Name
They finished the day with an early supper at a quaint family style Italian restaurant that was situated just in the southeast quadrant of the Cross. Emmeline had suggested the secluded place and Harry had to admit the place was rather cozy, like what he imagined the interior of the houses of Old Rome would look like. There were dark wooden high beams and rustic brick. Muted yellow lighting was a soft glow on faded floral wallpaper. There were even casks of homemade wine behind the bar.
A waitress showed them to a rectangular table near the rear. He tried not to be nervous, this wasn't like the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade or the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley. Though it wasn't blatantly expensive to make him uncomfortable, this was the first time he had eaten in a real restaurant without his friends and the last thing he wanted to do was make a fool of himself.
"The best thing about the Alla Rampa, is that the food is served family style." Emmeline told them. When she saw that Harry had no idea what she meant she went on to explain. "The food is prepared to serve the table, so you typically choose three or four entrees to share."
That didn't sound too bad, he thought, but when he looked at the menu that was written in Italian he wanted to bump his head to the table in frustration.
"If you don't mind, I can order for us all. I've been here before with Ham and his wife Diana. Everything is really good, so you don't have to worry there."
"It's fine with me," Remus said, though Harry had a feeling he did so more to make him comfortable than any true desire. Remus probably could have deciphered the menu.
"Yes, please," he murmured not happy admitting that he was feeling inadequate.
"I was thinking of starting with pasta and a vegetable risotto and then a meat?"
"So much?" Remus asked and she laughed.
"Believe me, you'll enjoy it all."
The same waitress that had escorted them to their table returned with a large metal pitcher of water and began filling their goblets. Then she turned to them with a smile, "May I get you something to start?"
"Yes, we'll have the Bread Board with extra virgin olive oil and balsamic vinegar and the antipasti tray with olives, prosciutto, roasted peppers, tomatoes, mozzarella and salami Romana."
The waitress copied down their order on her small notepad before asking, "And would you care for a bottle of wine?"
"Yes, we'll take a carafe of the house red." Emmeline waited until the waitress left before saying, "I know you're thinking Harry should have something else but at most schools, the students are exposed to a dinner with wine after they turn fifteen. Actually, most children are started with tasting wine when they're at least ten. It's to help them develop a discerning palate and help in planning meals for guests when they're older."
"It's fine," Remus relented, "I guess it's best if Harry has his first taste here with us than off where he might not be as cautious as he could be."
Harry didn't want to say that he had been imbibing alcohol since third year after Quidditch matches. It was a Gryffindor tradition. Though he hadn't anything stronger than some honey ale and a few sips of Old Ogden's. It hadn't been so long that Remus forgot Quidditch parties, he was probably just applying some selective memory.
The waitress brought out the appetizers, several loaves of fragrant bread and dishes of meat and cheese and other things that actually made his mouth water despite having never had most of them before. They served up some of the food, pouring a small glass of wine and began eating before the conversation resumed.
"This is very good," Remus complimented as he bit into a thick slice of bread that had been brushed with oil and vinegar.
"It is," Harry agreed with a hum of delight as he bit into a thick olive. After eating a bit more, Emmy turned the conversation to their activities of the day.
"So, shopping wasn't completely horrid, now was it?"
"Compared to what?" He joked but rolled his eyes and gave in. "No, I guess it wasn't completely horrible. I didn't mind the clothes so much or getting the eye exam."
"I thought you were going to cry at the salon," Emmy snickered.
"Thought he would scream and run myself," Remus snorted in remembrance.
"Very funny."
"We will probably head back to my apartment after supper. Unless you have some other purchases to make?"
"I think I would like to visit a book store. I probably won't have much opportunity for recreational reading but it might be nice to have the option available." It was rare that he bought things for himself and definitely not books. Hermione would be so proud. Ron would think he was insane to waste money on books. He honestly hadn't thought to supplement his reading materials in previous years and now that he had the chance he wanted to take advantage.
He was also thinking of purchasing some journals to keep up with the events of the year so he would remember what to tell his friends.
"Did you have the opportunity to look through the course listing that Dumbledore left for you?"
"A little. I was surprised to find that some of our classes at Hogwarts were different there. Like Potions for instance. It's combined with Herbology and Basic Healing. NEWT 6th years take an Intermediate course, 7th years are Advanced and there is even an 8th year apprenticeship offered."
"I didn't think you were interested in those subjects, "Remus said.
"I just think it will be nice to not have to watch out for Snape and the other Slytherins for a year. I don't mind the rivalries, it's the outright hatred and sabotage that I don't like."
"Have you given any thought to what you might like to do after school?"
"I'm not all that familiar with the careers offered in the Wizarding world. We were supposed to have some counseling with our Head of House this year. I know there seems to be a lot of positions connected with the Ministry but I'm not sure I want anything to do with the Ministry after all of the trouble they're causing."
"You shouldn't let that stop you from applying, Harry. It takes brave and outspoken people to make changes, especially the hard ones."
He didn't know how he felt about that. After the years spent enduring the alternate accolades and spite from the people and press, he didn't think he was ready for more years in the spotlight. "September and October on the weekends there are seminars that explore careers. I guess I'll be signing up for that."
"That's a good idea. I do know that many of upper level careers require at least five NEWT scores of at least E or above."
"If Fudge could get O's, I could probably test for my NEWTS now then." He was being silly, given Fudge and the Ministry's insistence that Voldemort hadn't returned.
It wasn't much later that they were sharing plates of Pollo Piccante, a pasta dish made of linguine, roasted chicken breast served with a spicy sauce, baby plum tomatoes spinach and cream, Verde Risotto, a risotto complete with green beans, peas, broad beans, courgettes, spinach and finished with Grand Padano, lemon and mint. Remus especially enjoyed the Agnello con Peperonata, Braised lamb shanks served with Basil, roasted vegetables and a pot of potatoes with tomatoes, red onion and Grand Padano. He had to admit the tender lamb was delicious. School had not long ended and his relatives hadn't quite starved him, so he was able to enjoy small servings of everything.
"What is it that you do for a living, Emmy, if you don't' mind my asking."
"I don't. I'm actually a Hit wizard. We specialize in tracing dark wizards and collecting the information needed to get them to trial and in a cell where they belong."
He wanted to ask how a department like hers had overlooked something as important as a trial for Sirius, but found he really didn't want to know the answer. He was growing horribly disillusioned with the actions of the Wizarding world. Oh, he still loved magic but there was just so much else that he was starting to hate, especially when fingers of blame and suspicion were always pointed in his direction.
Sometimes he was amazed at how backwards things could be in the Wizarding world in comparison to the muggle one. It was rare that a high profile criminal like Sirius Black would go to prison without a trial. He would have been afforded legal representation at the very least. And though the press could be outrageous in the muggle world, especially the paparazzi, they had some limits and didn't harass kids to the extent they pried into his life. For all the advantages magic could offer, there were just so many drawbacks.
Perhaps they felt they could malign him because he was 'the boy who lived' and therefore considered a public figure. Or perhaps it was simply because he didn't have any parents who would have stood up for him and not tolerated such harassment.
"Remus, what did my parents do?"
There was a brief look of surprise, as if Remus had thought he knew the answer to those questions already. "Your father was an Auror. They were fast tracking Aurors back then because of the war. As soon as one class would graduate, You Know Who and his Death Eaters would kill so many of them that they were forced to graduate recruits early. Lily hated it in the beginning. Most wives did. Especially those owls from the ministry that came in the night to inform you if a loved one had been killed. That was before someone had the dignity to start an office for those notifications and then a wizard would go out the next morning to deliver the news."
He couldn't imagine how his mother felt. Waiting for his father to come home at night and things had to be even more dangerous with him as a member of Dumbledore's Order.
"Your mother was a healer. She worked in the spell damage ward and did a lot of good, saved a lot of lives. That was before she became pregnant with you. When you came along, both your parents resigned their positions, concentrating solely on working with the old crowd. Then they were eventually forced to go into hiding." Remus trailed off there because they both knew what had happened to his parents after they went into hiding.
"Do you think you might like to be an Auror?" Emmy asked but he declined.
"Not really all that fond of Ministry right now," he lifted a shoulder, and could anyone blame him? They were doing their best to ruin his name and convince the public that he was some kind of attention seeking brat. Honestly Harry was surprised that Fudge hadn't brought him up on murder charges for Cedric's death, since he was so determined to believe that Voldemort's resurrection was a figment of his overactive imagination. The Minister probably would if he felt he could get a conviction. So it was probably ideal that he wasn't returning to Hogwarts for the year.
"You have plenty of time," Remus told him. "Just be aware that with those NEWT classes, you have to get at least an Exceeds Expectations or better in several subjects on your OWLS to be admitted to NEWT level classes. You're perfectly capable of achieving those scores if you study hard and apply yourself. There are many careers available that have nothing to do with the Ministry, so you have options that many of the students you know just won't have."
"You really think I could get Exceeds Expectations or better in my classes?" He expected Remus to think Hermione would get those kinds of scores, not him.
"With a little more effort on your part, I know you're capable of getting those scores, Harry. I've seen how hard you work when the subject interests you. The perfect example is your dedication to learning the Patronus charm. Now you just need to set goals like that in all of your classes. You can find a healthy balance between being a good student and having fun, Harry. It is possible without dedicating yourself to such extremes like your friend Hermione does."
6
You Just Call Out My Name
The portkey dropped them back in the middle of Emmeline's sitting room shortly after seven-thirty in the evening and Harry had never been this kind of satisfied before. Just an all around mellow feeling that was simply too rare in his life.
Perhaps having a day out like a normal teenager without feeling pressured or concerned for others feelings was the cause. If he had gone out with Hermione today, she would have balked at most of his purchases, determining it was more important to be equipped intellectually than bothering with so many physical adornments. She wouldn't have tried to stop him but she would have worn a disapproving frown most of the day. Hermione was definitely geared toward practicality than artifice.
Ron on the other hand would have been envious and Harry would have felt bad and there would have been snide comments tucked into the conversations that would eventually anger him.
Or perhaps having a full belly in the summertime when he was normally accustomed to that grinding ache of hunger was the cause of his contentment.
Either way, he sat down on the couch, setting his bags on the floor next to his feet, pleased with his purchases as well as the food he had ordered as carry away that was set under preserving charms. He was looking forward to eating another slice of that chocolate hazelnut torte thing that Emmy had ordered for pudding. It was leaps and bounds better than treacle tart and that was his favorite sweet.
The leftovers from their meal had been packed up and Harry figured he could have that later on tonight when his stomach woke him. Later during the week, he would have breakfast, lunch and supper, consisting of things like breads and cheeses, large salads and even something called a calzone which was resembled pizza folded up like a pastie. All he had to do was tap his wand to the container to release the charm and he would have a meal served to the ideal temperature just as if it had been prepared that day.
"Do I want to know why you're hoarding food Harry?" Remus asked and though his face was still and somber, there was feral light of rage burning in his amber eyes, as if he knew the answer to the question but didn't dare speak it aloud. For some reason that really irritated him.
"You saw the door to my bedroom and locks. The cat flap at the bottom of the door. Why do you think I ordered some extra food?"
"But! But Dumbledore said he went to see you!" Emmy's expression was also one of displeasure and suspicion.
"He couldn't have left me there?" Harry finished for her because she looked like she just couldn't bear to think that a man she admired could do such a thing. "Dumbledore's main concerns are that I'm safe from Death Eaters and Voldemort. That's the big picture. I've come to understand that small things like food, clothes, affection and basic human rights just aren't that important when I'm involved."
Remus' fist clenched against the arm of his chair so tightly that Harry thought it might crush it. He watched the man drag in a deep harsh breath to cool his temper. "You speak as if you're satisfied with that."
"I've had my entire life to accept my circumstances." He shook his head at the pity in their eyes.
"That isn't me being a martyr or self-sacrificing. It's just a fact of my life. Third year when I found out about Sirius, I thought maybe things might change but even now when I look back I'm not so certain that Dumbledore would have allowed me to go live with him. Even if we had managed to prove him innocent. Dumbledore would have insisted on me renewing the blood wards and maybe allowed me to stay with Sirius toward the end of the summer."
"It wrong that you're resigned to this," Emmy shook her head in frustration. "Even if the blood wards are so effective, it just doesn't change the fact that your relatives have reduced you to hoarding food away so that you might eat!"
He didn't know Emmeline that well, so perhaps he could appreciate her anger more so than Remus's. It was hard to have your idols dragged down from their pedestals and made mortal. So many people looked to Dumbledore to know the right thing to do that no one realized that they might not agree with what he considered to be right.
"When I was younger, I would dream of someone to come and rescue me." He said softly.
He was hesitant to speak of this, it made him feel awkward and vulnerable. These were things that he kept locked in the depths of his heart. Things he didn't want others to know about him. He hadn't even told Hermione and Ron the things he would say aloud just more one time. Why? He didn't know, maybe there was the small flicker of hope in his heart that if he told someone just this one final time that things might change.
And he hated that he still had that innocent hope because after all these years he had learned that no one listened. Snape said he had no respect for authority and deep down inside, he knew he didn't. Because Authority had done nothing to save him from the abuse and hatred his relatives had heaped upon him. So why should he respect them if they couldn't respect him in return.
"I would sit in my cupboard and hope and wish that there was someone out there who loved me and wanted me, not like my Aunt had said, that no one wanted a Freak like me. Then after a while, I grew up and realized there was no one. The only person I could depend on was myself. So I dreamed a new dream. I dreamed of the day I could walk out of the Dursleys' house and would never have to return. That's a good dream. I still have it sometimes."
"Why didn't you tell anyone? Surely something could have been done?" Remus's expression had turned from anger to one of desolation.
Harry could see the blame Remus place on himself and he wanted to absolve the man, for he understood now that Dumbledore wouldn't have allowed Remus to take Harry away or anyone else for that matter. Circumstances and events had conspired to keep him tied to the Dursleys and as much as he hated living there, they were his remaining family and he didn't want Death Eaters slaughtering them just because they shared blood. They may not respect that bond of family but he did and he wouldn't betray himself just to satisfy his hatred of them.
"When I first started Hogwarts, I had hoped to get away from the Dursleys. Then Dumbledore explained about the blood wards and I understood why it was important for me to stay. Otherwise I would have left when I was finally old enough to realize that I didn't have to stay with them and that I had the means to escape their prison."
He hadn't run before discovering the Wizarding world, because he had nothing and didn't want to end up living on the streets or shunted off to a children's home. The Dursleys were bad but things could have been much worse.
"It's a wonder you don't hate us all," Remus whispered.
"I could be angry or hateful if that will make you feel better." It was said with such dry sarcasm and innocent expression that Remus couldn't help the self depreciating grin that crept across his face. Emmy on the other hand wasn't so composed.
"You speak so calmly of things I've been trained to investigate. It's abuse and all the reasoning in the world doesn't negate that fact. That environment is bound to have left scars, even if most of them are mental ones. I wouldn't leave an animal in that house, let alone a child!"
"My mother's sacrifice made it possible for me to be safe from Death Eaters. But it also left me in purgatory. I'm not sure she would have wanted that for her child." He took a breath and set the emotions aside just as he always did and focused on the bigger picture. Brooding upon what wouldn't change was never productive. He much preferred to brood on things he could change.
"To answer your question Remus, I had the chance to get food for the week. It would have been foolish not to take advantage. There will be enough complaints when they see all the new things, and my glasses missing and the hair. I'll probably be locked in for the rest of the week Dumbledore is leaving me there and only allowed out for chores."
"Do you honestly think I'm going to allow you to go back to those people after what you've told me?"
Harry looked at the stubborn expression Emmeline's face and wanted to laugh. That was much better than the anger or worse the pity. He didn't want or need anyone to pity him. "Dumbledore isn't going to like it."
"I prefer to be able to look at myself in the mirror at night," Emmy said. "Dumbledore will have to make alternate arrangements, or just kick me out of the old crowd."
"You're a talented witch with connections in the Ministry of Magic. Somehow I don't think Dumbledore will be revoking your membership anytime soon, regardless of you disobeying this order," Remus drawled. "Besides, it isn't just your decision. It's mine as well. I may not be able to make amends for my lack of presence in your life in the past, Harry, but I can do something about now."
"I didn't say all of this to get you to disobey Dumbledore."
"I'm an intelligent, adult witch Harry. Dumbledore my lead the old crowd but he isn't my father. I'm allowed to have opinions of my own as well as to act in the best interests of a child."
"Not a child," he muttered.
"No," she patted him on the shoulder. "Not a child. But not an adult either. So don't worry about us, you just concentrate on getting to this new school and working hard."