Disclaimer: Nothing is owned by me, if that was the case, probably everything would've happened differently. But, such is the case that J.K Rowling created them, and therefore this complete universe belongs to her.
So, my new little project –lol- This little fic holds a special place in my heart as I wrote it all directly out of the little muscle-thingy we depend on to live. I wrote it when all I really wanted was to crawl in to a corner and cry.
It's a series to which this is the first story of, I think, five or six. This is to develop the universe I will be working in for many months to come.
I will not come with millions of warning before hand, flame me all you want but do it in a serious way. What I will warn about though, is Slash in the coming stories. This first one will be Het (surprise surprise) but Slash will come.
Hundred thousands of thanks to DarQuing for more things that I care to count but one of them is Beta'ing this story.
(Oh and this happens after OotP. Please disregard HBP and DH Completely)
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Harry Potter was, once again, stuck at Privet Drive over the summer. Only this time he kind of knew why; because of the Blood Protection created, unknowingly, by his the night his mother died. Died, Harry thought, she was only one of many more. His father, Cedric and Sirius had been the others who were killed from just being in the wrong place at the wrong time when Voldemort tried to attack him in one way or another.
Ron, Hermione, Mr. Weasley and Ginny had been others who had been severely hurt injured in incidents in his First, Second and Fifth year. All of the injuries had been sustained in his Fifth even if it was not the first time. Sirius had been the one to be permanently lost in the last attack a few weeks ago in the Department of Mysteries. A basically useless attack executed for the one and only reason to get a hold of a Prophecy that might tell if Harry could be killed or not. Harry snorted; it certainly hadn't stopped Voldemort from trying in the past.
The teen didn't exactly know how he felt about Dumbledore. Harry couldn't really blame the grandfatherly man, but he could've informed Harry of the Prophecy after the incident at the Graveyard. Sure, Harry had been a mess back then but surely it would've been better with just one emotional blow at only one occasion than several new ones every time he had recovered mostly from the last?
But, he thought again, now it's too late. What had been done had been done and was now impossible to change. Everyone made mistakes, especially during the pressure of a looming war. Harry and Dumbledore, even Sirius, had both made them.
The doorbell rang from downstairs. Harry sighed heavily knowing it was Dumbledore. The headmaster had written the day before requesting a dinner, of all things, the day after. 'The day after' had quickly turned to today.
Vernon had not been at all pleased but had eventually agreed after, surprisingly, Petunia's insistence. Since then Petunia had been very busy cleaning out the house and cooking. Harry had even been left for his own devices for once. Of course, none of this left a very happy Vernon, or Dudley, but Harry didn't really care at the moment.
He lazily straightened out his clothes and went downstairs.
"Boy!" Petunia called from the kitchen, "Get the door."
Harry did so, and as assumed, Dumbledore was standing there. He wore a much less noticeable set of robes today, in brownish colours.
"Good evening, my boy," the man greeted happily. Harry heard a distinctive snort from behind Dumbledore following that statement. This, of course, left Harry quite puzzled.
"Good evening, sir," he replied, "Aunt Petunia is nearly done with dinner, I think."
"Excellent," Dumbledore said but then his cheery aura faded a little, "I do hope there is enough for one more guest." He stepped aside to allow Harry to see the other figure. Behind him stood a blonde girl in sleek black robes.
"Pansy Parkinson," Harry exclaimed incredulously, "Professor, why is Parkinson here?" he asked his mentor. The girl looked a little distressed but it was only noticeable if you looked closely.
"Miss Parkinson accompanied me on my little trip," was the man's response, "Now though, I do believe it's time you let us in."
Harry stepped out of the doorway, "Uh, of course, sir."
The newcomers walked inside the overly normal house. Harry glared weakly at the witch, but her expression remained the same. Not an ounce of distaste of being in a Muggle house or worse as the situation was, in the Boy Who Lived's Muggle house. There's something fishy going on, he thought, and I'm going to find out what, and why.
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"A splendid dinner, my dear Petunia," Dumbledore praised the Muggle. He then Levitated the fancy silverware to the sink and charmed it clean. Dudley threw frightened glances at his father who himself tried hard not to be intimidated by the old wizard. Or at least not show it.
"I think it's time you explained the presence of the other freak?" he sneered instead. Parkinson looked outraged at that statement. She turned to Dumbledore who gently shook his head at her. Harry saw this in clear surprise, since when did Slytherins follow Dumbledore's directions?
"Yes, I do believe it's time I explained the presence of my little guest," the man said, "Let us adjourn to the sitting room, shall we?" not waiting for an answer, he left the table and moved to the other room. Parkinson quietly, and a little sadly Harry noticed, followed.
Vernon glared at Harry, who shrugged in response. The whale man did not look happy as he threw down his napkin and stomped after the old man. Harry followed him, and his wife and child followed shortly after Harry.
In the sitting room they found Dumbledore sitting in a conjured slightly pink armchair. Parkinson pressed herself into the corner of the newly conjured two-seat sofa in the same design as the armchair. Harry sat down in the other corner of the sofa while looking warily at the witch. The Dursleys chose their own three-seat couch.
In silence, Dumbledore conjured six porcelain cups and a teapot there as well. With the same suspicion as all evening, Harry poured a generous amount of sugar in his lemon tea. As did Dumbledore. No one else even touched his or her drink.
"I realise that Miss Parkinson's presence is discomforting for you all and that you would like an explanation. But first, I need to deal with what actually brought me here."
The man took a deep breath, "It's crucial that Harry is allowed to call this place home as the war has been made official once and for all. Petunia, in the letter I sent with Harry 15 years ago, I explained the reason to why and I do believe I reminded you a year ago. Harry will stay here for about one to two weeks more after this week, after that he will be moved to another location."
Harry didn't quite know how to feel that the man talked over his head and not to him. What he did know though, was that he was excited that he only had less than two weeks left. After that he would surely get to go and celebrate the rest of summer with the Weasleys. After a quick count, he found that he would be spending his sixteenth birthday there.
Petunia nodded thoughtfully at him, "I think I can go along with that."
Vernon was about to protest when Dumbledore held up his hand, causing the Muggle to quiet down, "Mr Dursley, it's only a few weeks. Not even that."
The whale man glared, but said nothing.
"Now, to the second reason as to why I'm here," he turned to Harry, "As important information was moved from Grimmauld Place, we found Sirius's will."
Harry temporarily froze, but tried to remain calm, "Go on," he urged gently.
Dumbledore smiled faintly, "Sirius left everything to you; Grimmauld, the money, other estates and artefacts, the name. You are now officially the Black Heir and you can, if you so desire, assume the title of Lord Black, as well as Lord Potter, on your sixteenth birthday."
Parkinson gasped at Harry's side, "What?!" she exclaimed, "But the Blacks, oh my, Potter and Black are a single line now aren't they?"
The headmaster nodded, "Indeed, Potter and Black are now the same, quite a formidable force politically, don't you agree Miss Parkinson?"
The witch glanced at Harry's scar, "Yes, sir, Potter-Black would have more influence, money, knowledge, history than even the Malfoys have ever had."
"Money, you say?" Vernon eyed Harry suspiciously.
"Yes, but none of it is in his disposal until he turns 16. With the titles as Lord, he is considered an adult despite his young age," Dumbledore winked at him.
Harry's face lit up, "Does this mean I think it means?"
The headmaster nodded, albeit a little sadly, "Yes it does, my boy, yes it does. I think Miss Parkinson can explain a little more. Which leads us to my third concern," he turned to Aunt Petunia, "It is also crucial that Miss Parkinson is allowed to stay here."
"Here?!" Parkinson and Petunia exclaimed, "But Mr Dumbledore, Potter is enough, you promised only Potter," Petunia continued.
"And you said I was only to come because Privet Drive was on the way," Parkinson put in.
"There is no way the other little.. thingis allowed to stay, Dumbledore, I refuse it," Vernon stated while he crossed his arms and glared at Dumbledore. Harry himself had no idea what was going on and Dudley looked with fear at Parkinson.
"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, Miss Parkinson, a most trusted friend of mine will be here soon and pick them up. We only need to set up a new safe house for them to live in. We are at war and both Harry's and Miss Parkinson's safety is very much on the line. Number 4, Privet Drive is right now the safest place in Britain after Hogwarts, " Dumbledore addressed their concerns.
"Out of the question, I refuse," Vernon stated once more.
Petunia, however, looked a little more uncertain, "How can my house be that safe?"
"I explained that in my letter, " he stated simply.
The woman nodded, "And this blood safety extends to her?" she gestured to the blonde girl next to Harry.
"In some ways it does, yes," Dumbledore looked at her sternly, "I beg of you, Petunia, to let her stay the short time period we need."
Petunia looked warily to Vernon who noticed the short glance, "Out of the question, simply out.."
"She can stay," Petunia said to Dumbledore, "It will keep her safe?"
"Yes, I thank you profusely." The old man took out something from his pocket and enlarged it back to its original size. Harry quickly noticed that it was a trunk. Parkinson was really staying, he thought.
"Professor?" he said, "Why is Parkinson's life in danger?" He saw out of the corner of his eyes that the witch tensed even further.
"That, my dear Harry, is something only Miss Parkinson can tell you," he replied gently.
"Why?" Parkinson protested
"Because talking of what has happened can sometimes help you deal with it, and I think Harry can help you more if you explained the situation at hand by yourself."
She looked close to tears, but eventually she huffed out a short 'fine'.
"Now, about sleeping arrangements," Dumbledore started, but was cut off by Vernon stating that he wouldn't spare another room. Harry sighed, so the argument was on. The magical teens just watched on as the adults argued. Harry knew this was not something that would make Vernon happy. No, after a quick glance at the pulsating purple vein Vernon sported when furious, Harry definitely knew this didn't make Vernon happy.
Surprisingly, Petunia kept on arguing that if Parkinson was safe at Privet Drive, she would be allowed to stay. Dudley stayed out of the almost-fight, eyeing Parkinson with both fear and something else. The girl in question didn't say anything more.
Eventually it was settled that Dumbledore would conjure another bed and Parkinson would share Harry's room. Shock after shock in that night, and Harry was too tired to argue and so, it seemed, was Parkinson.
The night continued with Dumbledore conjuring the bed while looking sadly at the impersonal room. In that precious moment Harry knew Dumbledore was sorry for the pain he had caused Harry. He also knew the man was really trying his best to make sure Harry had a childhood even if placing him with the Dursleys was a mistake. He threw a glance at Parkinson and saw that she looked as sad as she had when she arrived. Something must have happened to the girl to change her mind of whatever she had believed. And now Dumbledore was trying to help her.
Harry looked back at Dumbledore who was now in the middle of rearranging the furniture already in place in his small room. "I'll try " he said, "I'll try," he said again more quietly.
Dumbledore smiled sadly, "That's all I ask, my boy, is to try."
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Firstly I would like to say that I have around 6-8 chapters written, and I will be posting them once a week, probably every Thursday.
I would also greatly appreciate your input and response to it, so please review.
Love, Iivanainen