Year 3 – The Prisoner of Azkaban
Chapter 1 – The Affidavit
Chapter Summary: Harry Potter's summer plans are marred only by his looming court date. But if Harry is not looking forwards to this, it's nothing compared to his aunt's and uncle's reaction to the news.
Author: Khodexus
Rated T: For occasional graphic concepts and atmosphere. No cussing, no adult situations, no violence.
Disclaimer: I do not own any rights for the worlds or characters in Harry Potter. Those rights are owned by Scholastic Publishing Inc and J.K. Rowling. I do own the rights to my original characters depicted here, in as far as they differ from the worlds created by J.K. Rowling.
Note: This is the sequel to Harry Potter and the Dragon's Heir, Year 2 – The Chamber of Secrets. It is highly recommended you read Year 1 – The Philosopher's Stone, and Year 2 – The Chamber of Secrets first.
Harry thought his aunt and uncle were secretly plotting to murder him.
As his parents had been killed when he was just a year old, Harry was forced to live with his only remaining relatives the Dursleys; Petunia (his mother's sister), Vernon (her husband), and their son Dudley (Harry's cousin) at number four Privet drive. The real problem, was that like his late parents, Harry was a wizard. And his relatives wanted absolutely nothing to do with magic. While his aunt and uncle had tried everything they could think of to repress his talents, Harry had proven resilient to their efforts.
To make matters worse, Harry was becoming increasingly proficient with magic because he had been attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry over the past two years. His relatives were growing more and more wary of what they thought he might do to them if they upset him too greatly. Harry had even dropped some subtle hints of the kinds of things he could do so that Vernon had – white faced – allowed him to hold onto his books, and even his broom instead of locking them away as he had at the start of the previous summer. But Vernon had warned him sternly not to be seen using any of them. Technically he wasn't allowed to use magic outside of school until he'd come of age, but his relatives didn't know that, and Harry wasn't about to tell them.
Most days there was a silent tension throughout the house that gave Harry a mild headache. While other days neither Vernon nor Harry could hold back the criticisms and threats. So far, their arguments had escalated no further than shouting, but Harry knew it was only a matter of time before someone exploded.
The greatest test of Vernon's patience, was when Harry finally brought up the letter he had received just before the end of his last school term. It had been an Order to Appear, from the Ministry of Magic. His uncle was going to have to drive him to London at the end of June, and the worst of it was, that he had to accompany Harry inside the magically concealed Ministry building, since Harry was still underage.
Vernon had been livid when Harry brought this up, and the yelling match that had ensued only ended when Petunia pointed out that the neighbors could most likely hear them. Harry didn't want to go to London with his uncle, any more than Vernon wanted to have to go inside a building full of wizards, but in the end, there wasn't much either of them could do to change the situation.
Instead, Harry tried to concentrate on more pleasant matters. He let his owl, Hedwig, out of her cage only at night, and was very discreet with all of his magical things. Wizards used owls to carry mail, and Harry had been communicating with his best friend in the whole world, Draco Malfoy. Draco had promised Harry a grand birthday celebration on the last day of July, and Harry was coming to visit Malfoy Manor a week before the party. He planned to stay there until the end of summer vacation, as he certainly had no wish to return to Privet Drive.
Typically, Vernon would have been happy when Harry was gone, but then, he opposed just about anything that Harry actually wanted, especially if it involved wizards. Petunia, on the other hand, would miss him for the chores he wouldn't be doing, if nothing else.
Harry had plenty to do to help the Malfoys get ready for the party. He couldn't visit yet – if he'd had his way, he would have spent the entire summer at Malfoy Manor, his second favorite place in the world, after Hogwarts – but he was counting down the days, even the minutes, until he could leave Privet Drive behind for another year.
But even from here, he could write invitations, and correspond nightly with Draco and his other school friends about the party plans. Frankly, he was a bit surprised by how much work he was actually doing. He'd never realized just how much planning went into a party like this, even though Petunia entertained as often as she could. The Dursley's parties were simply a world apart from the grand celebration the Malfoys were preparing for Harry, now an honorary member of the family.
And, that was another thing that his relatives held against Harry.
Since Harry had come home for the summer holiday, Privet drive had been plagued by one particularly enthusiastic house elf, named Dobby, who absolutely adored Harry Potter. Dobby was now allowed to serve Harry in the same capacity as he served the rest of the Malfoy family. House elves by nature were discreet, but Petunia had noticed when chores would be completed while Harry was busy elsewhere, and for some reason took great offense at the idea that magic was no doubt responsible for these occurrences, and that was simply one more reminder of everything they hated about Harry and 'his sort'.
Dobby insisted on doing any of Harry's chores he could find time for, and only allowed Harry to do his own laundry because he was incapable of taking clothes without permission, a permission which Harry refused to give. If the house elf was ever gifted clothes by his master, he'd be freed from his contract of servitude, which, Harry had come to learn, had been empowering elven magical abilities for generations.
Harry was tired of the complaining, snide remarks, and arguments with his uncle.
But before he could escape Privet Drive, he had to appear in a wizard court, and had to figure out some way to get Vernon through it without killing anyone. Before the end of June, Harry received another black envelope from the Ministry, this time to inform him that the date of his appointment had been postponed. Harry and Vernon had another two and a half weeks now, but Harry didn't honestly see how it would help anything. Having more time to brood about it would certainly not improve Vernon's mood.
When the newly appointed day finally arrived, Vernon woke Harry early, and barely spoke to him as they ate breakfast and walked out to the car. Vernon was a large man, with small eyes in his face, which were now narrowed in hostility as he drove in silence, glaring at Harry sitting in the back seat from time to time in the rear view mirror.
A surprise was awaiting Harry when they arrived at the guest entrance to the Ministry building. A well-dressed gentleman in a snappy blue, silk, three-piece suit, his long silver beard tied neatly in front of him by two golden clasps, was standing at the curbside next to a red telephone box. As they pulled up alongside him, Harry realized with a start, that the man was none other than Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, as he'd never seen him dressed before. He looked more like a banker than the most respected wizard of the age.
"There you are, Harry, and Mister Dursley." Dumbledore greeted them both, then faced Harry's uncle fully, "As Harry's legal counsel, I can be his escort. With your permission, of course." He said very politely.
"What does that mean, precisely?" Vernon growled.
"It means I can take him from here, you need not accompany him inside, unless of course… you wish to."
Vernon thought about that for a long tense moment then finally nodded, "Where do I wait? When do you expect to be done? I don't want to be kept waiting out here all day."
"Do not worry, Mister Dursley, I shall ensure that he is returned to Number 4 when we are finished." Vernon was so obviously relieved that Harry almost chuckled, but he knew his uncle's nerves were stretched so taught that even that might set him off. Still, his uncle thought about it, and opened his mouth as if to argue, but then turned and got back into his car. He drove away without a backward glance, and Harry gazed up and down the street for a moment before facing Dumbledore. "So, what am I supposed to do in there, exactly?" Harry asked.
But Dumbledore gestured for them to walk together down the sidewalk. "Actually, your court date has been postponed yet again, I'm sorry to say. But I wished to speak with you, and this seemed the perfect time to do so." The headmaster informed Harry.
"Oh. Why does it keep getting postponed?" Harry asked as they turned the first corner.
"Lockhart's legal team is quite slippery, and well paid to be so. They can likely bog down this whole mess for years, though that could do as much damage or more to his reputation than the facts we can prove, were they to be made public right away. I suspect he will find a way to end the proceedings before too long."
"I hope it ends sooner than later, I don't want to have to keep coming back here for years and years. But on the other hand I hope he doesn't get away with it either."
"It is possible things could drag on for some time, though being who you are, a student, and the famous Harry Potter, I imagine even the strictest court official will be somewhat lenient with you. Hopefully, the demands on your time should be minimal."
"Can't I just tell them what happened? What Lockhart told me he'd done? I'll swear it after drinking veritaserum."
"I'm afraid that testimony through truth potions is not admissible in courts, Harry." Dumbledore tsked. "There are those who are able to fool such a test, it is not wholly reliable. I will help you sort through this, you need not fear. But, on that subject, perhaps we should head inside."
"I thought you said my court date had been postponed?" They rounded another corner, and Harry tried to recall if this was the second or third corner they'd turned.
"It has, but as chance would have it, you did not receive the notice, and here you are. We might as well try to accomplish something so long as you are here. No point wasting the trip now, is there?"
They came to a stop in front of the same shabby red telephone booth where they'd started, and with a little effort, they both managed to squeeze inside. "How's this supposed to work?" Harry wondered aloud, staring around the cramped space. It was even shabbier on the inside. In fact the telephone itself was hanging rather crookedly.
Dumbledore didn't answer, merely tapped his wand against the decrepit phone, causing the dial to spin crazily to one number then the next. A moment after it stopped a cool female voice emerged from the depths of the leaning box. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."
"Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Bri…" Dumbledore began.
"Ah, Master Dumbledore, how may we help you today?" The woman behind the voice cut in smoothly and with a friendly tone.
Dumbledore looked mildly perturbed that he'd been interrupted before he could finish relating his long list of names and titles, but quickly shrugged it off and continued. "I'm here with Mister Harry Potter to speak with Madam Bones."
"Thank you. Mister Potter, please take the visitor's badge and attach it to the front of your robes." There was a rattle as a small metal object – the badge in question with the words Harry Potter, Visitor to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement on it – emerged from the coin return chute of the phone. While harry was pinning it to his shirt (he hadn't actually worn robes that day), the voice added, "Mister Potter, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."
"Okay." Harry spoke to the lady for the first time.
"Steady, Harry." Dumbledore admonished, a moment before the floor began to rumble, and then they, along with the wood beneath their feet, began to descend, past the pavement, down through the pitch dark earth, and finally into the momentarily blinding golden light of the Ministry entry hall.
"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day." The woman's voice told them as Dumbledore stepped forward and waited for Harry's eyes to adjust so he could follow.
Idly, Harry wondered if at some point, he would see and be awed by the largest most impressive entry hall in all of England, so he'd stop having the same mouth-gaping reaction every time he discovered a new one. Hogwarts Castle had a truly massive entry hall, and the entryway at Malfoy Manor was extravagantly furnished, if not quite as big. But the Ministry of Magic outdid them both.
Behind them the telephone box door closed, and the whole thing rose back upwards, but Harry was busy looking around the grand hall with its polished wood floor. Among the first things to catch his eye was the deep purple ceiling that was covered in glowing sigils – the source of the golden light – which were constantly shifting and changing. Harry wondered what the purpose for them were. There were also rows of fireplaces flanking the main hall, each set into a green marble pillar with gilded grating. Harry recognized immediately they were connected to the floo-network, a method of travel widely used in the wizarding world. A few gratings at the far end of the atrium opened and closed only infrequently as people emerged through them. But most of the gratings were constantly open, so that every few moments – when the flames turned green and a wizard or witch appeared in the fire with a harmless whoosh – they could step out into the atrium in time to let the next witch or wizard through without running into them.
As he and Dumbledore started walking along the hall, the headmaster's fancy suit melted away, revealing his regular, well-worn, rather rumpled wizard robes. About halfway along the hall, they started to pass by a large fountain with a pool of water, at the center of which stood a set of statues depicting a witch and a wizard with their wands raised skyward, a centaur, a goblin and an elf around them. Most of the statues were staring at the witch and the wizard with ridiculously adoring expressions, and Harry almost laughed. But suddenly he realized it probably wasn't meant as a joke.
Harry turned away and tried to pretend the image didn't bother him, as they continued strolling across the hall towards a large impressive looking gate. But Dumbledore steered them aside before they reached the gates, to a desk set away from the walkway, behind which hung a sign that read SECURITY.
The clean-shaven wizard manning the desk dropped his copy of the Daily Prophet and leapt to his feet as they approached, "Professor… I mean Chief Mugwump Dumbledore… sir!" He seemed torn between bowing and offering to shake Dumbledore's hand, and settled for examining Harry nervously instead.
"I've brought Mister Harry Potter to meet with Madam Bones."
"Yes, certainly, let me… I just… need to see your, er… wand." He smiled apologetically at Harry, and kept glancing back and forth between him and Dumbledore as Harry drew his wand from its concealed sheath, and handed it over. He placed it on a device that much resembled a set of scales, but with one dish.
The device hummed gently before emitting a slender roll of parchment from the base, which the guard read off aloud, "Eleven inches, phoenix-feather core, been in use nearly two years. Is that correct?"
"Yeah." Harry nodded.
"Here you go." He said, handing the wand back, and impaling the parchment on a spike that already held several others. After that he swept a thin rod along either side of Harry's frame then nodded. "You're all set. I'll send a note ahead to let Madam Bones know you're here."
"Thank you, Charles." Dumbledore acknowledged, and steered Harry back into the press of traffic heading towards the gates at the end of the hall.
That led them into a large room with lines forming in front of about 20 gilded grills. Harry and Dumbledore made their way through one into a lift while Dumbledore exchanged greetings and comments with various people they passed. Everyone here knew him, and it seemed he was far more well-liked than Harry could have guessed.
But in the lift a young girl who ended up close by Harry kept staring at him, then began tugging on her mother's sleeve, and pointing.
The lift ascended slowly, and the same voice from the telephone box rang out once it stopped at the next level. "Level seven, Department of Magical Games and Sports, incorporating the British and Irish Quidditch League Headquarters, Official Gobstones Club, and Ludicrous Patents Office."
"Look, mama." The girl was whispering, trying to get the woman's attention. Harry looked around nervously. A few others in the lift were starting to glance around to see what the girl was whispering about.
"Level six, The Department of Magical Transportation, incorporating the Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, Portkey Office, and Apparation Test Center." The same voice announced. At each stop some of the occupants of the lift departed, while others got on, along with some paper airplanes zooming in and out overhead.
"Look at his scar!" The girl said a little louder. "It's him!"
Harry sighed, and resisted the urge to try to flatten his unruly hair down over his forehead to hide the lightning bolt shaped scar there.
Harry was very famous in the wizarding world. As an infant, only a year old, one of the most dangerous dark wizards of all time had come to his family's home to kill him. Harry's father had been killed, and his mother had sacrificed herself to protect him, causing the Dark Lord Voldemort's murderous magic to backfire. Voldemort had all but died, and Harry was left unscathed except for his now famous scar.
They called him 'The-Boy-Who-Lived', and though Harry privately was annoyed by all the fame and attention, he had decided to allow people to believe he might enjoy it. That's what a pure-blood Slytherin would do, afterall.
Harry wasn't quite pureblood. Though both his parents had been magical, and his father was from a prestigious house, his mother – as his aunt and uncle frequently reminded him – had been an abnormality in their otherwise non-magical family. Harry wanted to live up to the Potter name, not just due to his father's heritage, but also because he hoped doing so would help him, when Voldemort inevitably returned.
"It's not polite to point." The girl's mother admonished.
"But, mama!"
"Level 5, The Department of Magical Cooperation…"
"It's Harry Potter!" The girl pointed and stared as if she'd just discovered the most wonderful thing in the world. "It's him, it's him, mama…"
"You know I can hear you, right?" Harry said, and the girl squeaked, startled, and hid behind her mother.
"Pardon my daughter, Mister Potter." The mother said politely.
"It's fine." Harry offered with a smile and a shrug. "I get this a lot, actually."
Several other people were now openly staring too, and Dumbledore just smiled at their exchange.
"Level 3, The Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, incorporating the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, Obliviator Headquarters, and Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee." The doors opened and the girl's mother led her by the hand from the lift.
"See you, Harry!" She called back to Harry with a wave.
Harry waved back, then looked up, and saw that there were more the paper planes than there had been before, and when he pointed them out to Dumbledore, the headmaster smiled, "It's something new the Ministry has been trying. Interdepartmental memos. Significantly easier to clean up after than owls."
"Ah." Harry nodded, and a moment later they arrived at level two, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
"Here we are, Harry. You ought to wait here in the sitting room. I'll go speak with Amelia." Dumbledore told him.
Harry took a seat in one of the wide but uncomfortable wooden chairs, and waited. He had just enough time to wonder how there could be windows in the sitting room if they were underground when Dumbledore returned, along with a middle aged witch with short graying hair and a no-nonsense set to her jaw. "Harry, this is Madam Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Amelia, this is Harry Potter."
"A boy who needs no introduction, surely." Madam Bones gave Harry a polite nod and a subtle smile. "It is fortunate you made it in today. I haven't filled my schedule, and so I have time to take your affidavit. Shall we?" She gestured for Harry to follow her, and with Dumbledore taking up the rear, they proceeded deeper into the department. They passed through a pair of doors with a plaque that read, "AUROR HEADQUARTERS", into a large room sectioned off into cubicles. They continued across the room and paused in front of a large corner office at the end of the hall. "Arthur, you're not busy. May we borrow your services for a moment?" She called out to a man down the hall.
"Actually, I just received a whole stack of papers from Michael down in…"
"It will only take a moment, we just need another witness for Harry's affidavit here."
"Harry?" Arthur blinked, and looked at Harry. Recognition bloomed immediately on his face which broadened into a bright grin, "Harry Potter! How are you?" Harry had actually met Arthur Weasley once or twice. He was the father of two of Harry's best friends, the twins – Fred and George – who were two years ahead of him at Hogwarts. The Weasley clan had inherited their bright red hair from their father. And while Arthur and Lucius Malfoy – Draco's father – clashed constantly over policy in the Ministry, the truth of the matter was that Mister Weasley had generally seemed kind to Harry. Harry got the feeling they probably would have been friends except for his association with the Malfoys.
"I'm fine, Mister Weasley." Harry offered a friendly smile.
"My sons have been telling me about your adventures last year at school, is it true that…"
"Mister Weasley, may we continue this inside?" Madam Bones gestured for the three of them to precede her into her office.
"Yes, of course." Arthur blushed apologetically.
"Please take a seat." Harry and Mister Weasley sat down in a pair of comfortable chairs across a large desk cluttered with paperwork, as Dumbledore conjured a plush armchair and sat down a little behind them.
"So, uh… what's an affidavit?" Harry asked, wondering just what would be required of him, and conscious that Arthur looked on the verge of repeating whatever question he'd been about to ask in the hall.
"It's an official statement and testimony. Usually testimony is given in an active court session, but as Dumbledore said, we don't want your trip to go completely to waste. The law allows for testimony to be given in written form during unusual circumstances. Chances are you'll be busy with school again before too long, so this will be better for everyone involved."
Except for Gilderoy Lockhart, Harry recognized the unspoken subtext.
"That's brilliant!" Arthur observed.
"Yes well, convenient might be the more appropriate term." Madam Bones corrected, suppressing an amused smile.
"That sounds easy enough." Harry agreed with a smile of his own.
"So Harry…" Arthur turned on him briefly, but Amelia immediately cut him off.
"Arthur, I know you have many questions for Harry, but let us get this legal business out of the way first, shall we?"
"Oh yes, of course." Mr. Weasley nodded, and turned to face his Department Head.
Madam Bones withdrew parchment and a quill from one of the desk drawers, along with a vial of ink. Then she cast a charm on the quill, and it hovered over the first page, waiting for Harry, it seemed.
"Now, I want you to understand, you are not on trial here. I want to make certain Mister Lockhart meets whatever justice he deserves. No more, and no less. Just state the facts as you remember them, and we will do the rest." Madam Bones explained. "Do you have any questions before we begin?"
"Just; where should I start?" Harry asked, eyeing the hovering quill, and glancing at Dumbledore. He was supposed to keep certain things secret, and he hadn't had a chance to ask if anything of what he'd told Dumbledore the previous year should be left out of his affidavit.
"They do not need the details of your entire 'investigation', Harry." Dumbledore answered Harry's unspoken concerns. "Simply the evidence you found that led you to confront Lockhart, and the details of that encounter."
Harry nodded, and cleared his throat, "Start by identifying yourself." Bones instructed, then gestured to the quill. It dipped itself into the inkwell, and moved back to the page.
"My name is Harry James Potter." Harry began.
He spoke carefully, and deliberately, recalling each event and planning what he wanted to say before saying it. His voice and the scratching of the quill were the only sounds in the room for a long time, as he described the things about Lockhart's behavior that had first made him suspicious that something wasn't right. How Lockhart had seemed confident, and even charming, but how his lessons never quite went the way he seemed to expect, and how his competency with advanced spells never matched what he'd claimed to have done in his books.
He eventually got to the harrowing encounter where Harry had planned to trick Lockhart into exposing his secrets (he left out the part about attempting to use illegally brewed truth serum – that he hadn't even needed – to get Lockhart to confess). He didn't describe the encounter word for word, but did explain that he'd asked leading questions, and once Lockhart realized that Harry was on to him, Lockhart started bragging about everything he'd done, and then told him he was going to erase Harry's memory of the entire school year. In fact, Lockhart had already started the incantation when Snape had entered through the closed door with a disarming spell. "It was only the timely intervention of Professor Snape that saved me from Lockhart's curse."
He trailed off there. He didn't know really what had happened to Lockhart after he'd left the room.
"Is that the end?" Madam Bones asked, and Harry nodded. "Then finish with, 'This statement is as truthful and as accurate as I can make it. Signed, Harry James Potter.' "
Harry repeated her words, and watched as the quill wrote them down followed by a line for his signature beneath his name.
Dumbledore then cleared his throat and added, "Witnessed by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and acting escort and legal counsel for Harry James Potter."
"And, Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and Chief Prosecutor." Madam Bones cut in.
And Arthur similarly added, "And, Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, and Notary Witness."
The quill scratched out those lines too, and then Dumbledore handed the quill to Harry. He stood up, and looked over the document briefly, before signing on the line. Then Dumbledore took the quill back and added his signature, followed by Madam Bones and Mister Weasley.
"Well, we're done here. I'm sure the court will have some interesting things to say after seeing this." Madam Bones stood, and shook both Dumbledore's and Harry's hands. "It was a pleasure, Master Dumbledore, and you as well Mister Potter. Thank you for your contribution, Arthur."
"Likewise." Harry agreed.
"I suppose I really should get back to work." Arthur said, apologetically, "But maybe you and I can get a chance to talk another time."
"I'd like that." Harry agreed. "Fred and George are still coming to my party, right?"
"Party?" Arthur blinked.
"Yeah, I've never really had much of a birthday celebration before, so Draco decided to help throw me a grand birthday party on the thirty-first of July at Malfoy Manor. Fred and George were among the first people we knew we had to invite."
"That sounds wonderful. I'm sure they'll have loads of fun."
"Thanks!" They exchanged one last smile before Harry turned to depart with Dumbledore.
On the way out, Harry felt the tension tangibly drain from his body, leaving him worn out. He hadn't realized just how nervous he'd been during the weeks leading up to this, but now that it was over, he just hoped it would be a long time before he was called upon to deal with the legal mess surrounding Lockhart again.
"Well, it looks like we have a little time to spare. Care for a sundae?" Dumbledore asked as they re-entered the lift.
"I'd love one!" Harry beamed.
With any luck, he wouldn't have to speak to his relatives again regarding these events for the rest of the summer.
"Those 'friends' of yours aren't planning on showing up at our door again, are they?"
Harry had just come down the stairs for breakfast about a week later, to find Vernon waiting in ambush around the corner in the hall.
"No. I'm going to meet someone at the bus station, and travel to the Manor from there." Harry was happy to tell his Uncle.
Last year when he'd visited the Malfoys they'd turned up in an invisible carriage, and the interactions between his family and theirs had not been very pleasant for either side. Draco had even threatened to curse Dudley if he found out he was being mean to Harry, but Vernon hadn't yet learned of this from his son, and Harry certainly had no intention of enlightening him.
"Good." Vernon nodded after thinking it over for a moment, "Good!" He repeated, then turned away and went to the kitchen table to eat breakfast.
Harry smiled, but quickly hid the expression. It occurred to him that if Vernon knew exactly how Harry was 'traveling' to the manor from the bus station, he might have a fit. Harry had only traveled by floo-network a couple of times, and he much preferred flying on his broom, but it was fun to imagine the expression of horror on Vernon's face if he ever watched Harry disappear into a fireplace in a rush of green flames.
It was the third Saturday of July, two weeks before Harry's birthday, when he received a somewhat distressing letter from the Weasley twins.
Dear Harry,
You know we said we'd love to celebrate your birthday. But our mum isn't too keen on the idea of us heading over to the Malfoy Manor. Draco's alright, but his father and ours do NOT get along. They're always at odds, like you saw at Flourish and Blotts last year.
Perhaps we can celebrate a second time together a few days after your birthday. Would that be okay?
Your best friend, and your bestest friend,
Fred and George Weasley
P.S. If Errol is looking faint, please give him some water before sending him home, but no food. Don't want him flying on a full stomach.
Errol was the Weasley's owl, and he was a bit of a scraggly bird, barely able to manage his duties much of the time. It was evening, so Harry didn't feel any need to wait to send his reply. In his room he let Errol drink some water from Hedwig's cage, as he got out parchment and his writing supplies, and quickly scratched out another letter with his quill. He wanted to plead with them, but ultimately decided to be diplomatic, and simply accepted their apology, and of course agreed that they could get together sometime after the party.
Harry was surprised, when a couple of days later, he received another letter from the Weasley's owl. This one was even more apologetic, but explained that after constant nagging (the best way to win over their mum, apparently), Molly Weasley had finally consented to allow them to celebrate with Harry. "We are 15 afterall, and fully capable of looking after ourselves." They wrote. Besides which, it seemed their father had been telling everyone at the Ministry that his sons were attending Harry's birthday party, and they'd explained to their mother that it would make their dad look bad if they didn't show up, "Plus, Lucius can't do anything sinister to us, since everyone already knows we will be there."
Nothing could ruin it for him now, he was sure. And the remaining three days until his departure were far too long to wait.
On Thursday, Harry woke quite early, despite the fact that his bus didn't leave until that afternoon. He packed his trunk and stacked his books and extra bags on the lid before perching Hedwig's cage right on the top of the pile. He planned to instruct Dobby to take his things to the Manor with magic, and had only a small book bag set aside for his ride to the bus station.
He dressed, with his wand hidden in its sheath and covered by the back of his shirt, and went down the stairs for a light breakfast before getting started on the last of his chores for the summer, he hoped. Things were going fine until Petunia discovered chores finished that Harry hadn't actually had a chance to get started on yet.
"This is the last time, do you hear me?" Petunia's bony frame did not fill the hallway door like her husband's did, but her long neck and horse-like face produced a shrill whisper that grated on the ears more than a shout would have. "You will not use your strangeness in this house. Don't give me any excuses, heaven forbid anyone saw you."
Even though she didn't raise her voice overly, her shrieks still drew the attention of Harry's uncle. "What's going on in here?" He came from the other end of the hall, boxing Harry in.
"He's been doing two chores at once!" Petunia hissed.
"Is this true?!" Vernon raised his voice as he turned back to Harry.
He could have denied it, and tried to explain Dobby, but Harry was certain that revelation would only make things worse, so he kept quiet.
"We put up with enough of your… your funny business as it is. If you can't be civil and keep to yourself where decent folk won't see you, we'll be forced to take drastic measures." Vernon growled out.
"Don't threaten me!" Harry spat right back. "I didn't do anything! You've no right to complain, as long as the chores get done, and no one sees anything, what does it matter?"
"Don't take that tone with me, you ungrateful… Where do you think you're going?!" Harry had had enough, and turned away, slipping easily past his aunt and towards the stairs.
"Anywhere but here!" he shouted over his shoulder, marching straight up the stairs and slamming his bedroom door. He threw himself onto his bed on top of the covers without bothering to kick off his shoes, and lay there for a moment just staring at the ceiling. But laying in the heat of his room with his family just yards away on the other side of a few thin walls wasn't helping his mood, so after a couple minutes he got up, and slipped quietly down the stairs, out the back door, through the garden, and out the side gate.
It was a hot summer day, but there was enough of a breeze to gradually cool his simmering temper as he walked down Privet Drive towards the next street.
Even after he calmed down, Harry didn't feel like returning to the house, and figured he'd just wait until it was almost time to leave for the bus station. He found a place to lie in the grass of a nearby field, and must have dozed off; because the next thing he knew, he was startled awake by the sound of a car backfiring loudly in the street in the direction of his relatives' home.
Harry checked his watch, and saw that he still had plenty of time, so he dozed back off for another hour. He woke again when the sun was directly overhead and it was too hot to stay put. So he got to his feet and brushed bits of dried grass off of his clothes, before starting back towards Privet Drive. He took his time, as he didn't want to linger once he got there, and schooled himself into a neutral expression as he walked up to the front door, and strolled through casually.
His Aunt and Uncle were in the living room along with another couple Harry didn't recognize. Petunia and Vernon gaped and stared at Harry when he walked in the door, and it took a moment for either of them to speak.
Just as Harry was about to pass out of sight into the hall, Petunia called, "Harry!" He found it odd, since she didn't usually like to draw attention to him when they were entertaining company.
Harry paused and took a step back to glance at them through the doorway.
"Is this your nephew, Harry?" The thin man on the couch asked. "You haven't told us much about him."
"Yes, this is Harry…" Vernon confirmed.
"Did you just come in from… outside?" Petunia asked.
"Yeah." Harry didn't glower, but he wanted to.
"Did… did your friend from school find you?"
Harry blinked. Something very odd was going on here. "Find me?"
"Yes, your friend from school." Vernon cut in, "He arrived a couple hours ago, and we sent him up to your room to find you…"
"You sent him…?!" Harry's eyes widened, but he forced himself to keep calm, "No, I haven't seen him, he might be…" Harry trailed off; the only person he could think of that would be visiting from school was Draco.
"Oh, I'm sure the boys are keeping each other entertained upstairs." Petunia's guest suggested, as Vernon's and Petunia's expressions became slightly more alarmed.
Harry hoped his cousin was still alive.
"I guess I'll go check on them now." Harry walked calmly out of view, and then took the stairs two at a time, and emerged onto the landing only slightly winded. He was about to go check his room first, when he heard voices coming from Dudley's room. It took an effort not to groan, imagining whatever Draco had been up to all this time.
"I see it!" Harry recognized Draco's voice.
"No don't, no you're gonna…!" Dudley's voice sounded panicked.
For all that he hated Dudley – Harry had one hand on his wand, ready to draw it in defense of his cousin as he opened the door and entered the room. But the sight that greeted him stopped him dead in his tracks.
"Awww! I told you…" Dudley was sitting in a chair next to his computer desk, while Draco's blonde head was visible over the back of Dudley's desk chair. Another boy sat on Dudley's bed. All three of them had their attention fixed on the screen of Dudley's prize computer, where the words 'GAME OVER' were displayed in blocky letters.
"I'm out of continues too." Draco leaned back in the chair, pulling his hands away from the keyboard.
"It's my turn now!" Dudley's friend stated. None of them, apparently, had noticed Harry yet. And Harry was so stunned by the scene in front of him that he couldn't think of a single thing to say.
"I thought I did better that time." Draco said, getting to his feet, and allowing the unfamiliar boy to occupy the seat.
"I still can't believe you've never played a computer game before." The boy now sitting at the desk shook his head at Draco. Harry guessed he must be related to his aunt and uncle's guests downstairs.
As Draco turned, he finally spotted Harry. "Oh hey, Harry. How come you never told me these things were so much fun?"
"It just… never occurred to me… I guess…" Harry said lamely, realizing something was required of him.
"Harry doesn't really play on my computer." Dudley explained, his expression looking suddenly a bit strained.
"How did… what are you…?" Harry was still trying to fathom exactly how such a situation where Draco and Dudley were even remotely friendly to one another could have occurred.
"It's nearly time to go, isn't it?" Draco asked Harry.
Harry checked his watch. "Yeah… you're right. The bus leaves in twenty minutes." He observed.
"Good timing then, I guess. I just finished a round." Draco announced proudly, and then turned back to Dudley. "Maybe I can try again next time I visit."
Dudley took a moment to think about it, but his friend seemed to like the idea so he shrugged, "Yeah, I guess."
"Alright. Dunno when that'll be, but it could be fun, right?" Draco added. Dudley nodded, and Draco offered a polite smile, before he slipped past Harry and out the door.
Harry quickly ducked into his room and grabbed his book bag, then he followed Draco down the stairs and together they waved a hurried goodbye to Harry's relatives, and their guests, and soon were jogging down the street.
They were almost to the corner when Harry again found his voice, "What on earth are you doing here? How did you even get here?" He asked Draco, still a bit confused by the situation.
"Oh, when you mentioned you were going to the bus station, I remembered the Knight Bus. So I flagged it down, and rode it right up to your street. Father wasn't real happy about the idea of me on the Knight Bus, even though he gave me permission to travel with you to the bus station. But I came because I wanted to make sure your relatives were treating you all right."
"Is that why you were in there with Dudley?" Harry asked, panting a little as they jogged across the street towards the bus stop.
"Yeah, I was thinking about threatening him again, but I was curious when I saw him playing that game on his… what is it called again?"
"Computer?"
"Yeah that. Anyways, I couldn't threaten to curse him with another muggle in the room, so I watched for a bit then I asked about the game."
"Did my aunt let you into the house?"
"Yeah, they had company, so they sent me up to find you, but you weren't in your room, and that's how I ended up in your cousin's room instead."
"But… how did you get Dudley to let you play on his computer?"
Draco shrugged in response to that, "I think it was mostly Jacob. I guess your cousin didn't want to be impolite in front of a guest either. I didn't think I would enjoy it, to be honest, but it was a lot of fun, even though I'm not very good at it."
They reached the bus stop just as the bus was pulling up, and Harry paid the bus fare for himself and Draco, before finding a seat near the back so he could talk with Draco in low tones without being overheard. They weren't supposed to let muggles, what wizarding folk called those with no magic, know about all the magical things going on in the world.
Harry thought about changing the subject, even though he still couldn't fathom how Dudley and Draco had actually been getting along, but Draco was still talking, even while Harry's mind spun.
So Harry let Draco continued to describe the video game he'd played, involving a barbarian warrior who fought goblins, zombies, and even an evil wizard, but eventually the subject turned to the bus they rode in.
Draco thought the muggle bus was fascinating. "The Knight Bus is much faster, and it's got a section with dining tables and another with beds. But I never realized before that muggles had buses too. How do they get it to move without magic?"
"It runs on a motor, which burns gasoline to turn the wheels." Harry explained, "I'm pretty sure muggles invented motor cars and buses. If wizards use them too, they probably got them from muggles."
"Muggles certainly have a lot of interesting ways to get by without magic." Draco observed.
"I suppose they do." Harry shrugged. The things muggles did were not all that interesting to Harry, but Draco seemed to have no end of questions for him, and Harry resigned himself to talking through Draco's unusual mood.
At the bus station, things were perfectly normal. At first. Harry had received instructions where to go, and what to say. He bypassed the normal ticket taker, and found a man in a security uniform standing in front of a door that said 'STAFF ONLY'. He gaped the moment he laid eyes on Harry – or more precisely his scar, not quite hidden by his unruly hair. "You're… Harry Potter?!" He gasped.
"Yes, I am." Harry realized some response was required. "And this is Draco Malfoy. We need floo-passage to Malfoy Manor."
"Of course, of course." The man nodded, and glanced around, before opening the door at his back and leading Harry inside.
The room beyond the door was a small suite of offices, and the front room, a moderately sized lobby, had a fireplace large enough for a tall man to stand up in. Harry wasn't as tall as all that, and neither was Draco, but after paying the man a few knuts (wizarding currency), he threw a small handful of the powder he'd just purchased into the fireplace. The orange flames leapt up, turning an emerald green as Harry stepped forwards into the now heatless fire. He then spoke the words, "Malfoy Manor!" as clearly as possible.
In the next instant, the green flames surrounded him, and as had happened the last time he'd traveled by floo powder, he found himself whisked sideways through the air. Fireplace after fireplace blurred past his vision, until he emerged into the Malfoy's entry-hall, and quickly stepped down from their hearth. The fire flared once more, and Draco appeared behind him. "Dobby." Harry called out to the apparently empty chamber.
"Dobby is here, great Master Harry!" The house elf popped into existence at Harry's elbow, gazing up adoringly at Harry with his large bulbous eyes. He was an imp of a creature, with no hair, and large floppy ears, and a sack that he wore instead of clothes. Harry was happy to note that Dobby was looking well. On account of disobeying the normal rules for house elves the last year – trying to save Harry's life – he'd had to punish himself more than normal, but the signs of his punishments were fading, and there were no new visible bandages.
"Dobby, I need you to get my things from my room at Privet drive." Harry explained.
"Dobby has done so, sir. Is there anything else Dobby can do for Master Harry?"
Harry supposed he shouldn't have been surprised that Dobby had anticipated his request already. "No, that'll be all. Return to your duties." Harry said.
Once Dobby had gone, Harry shook his head, but stared after him with a fond smile.
"You're spoiling him." Draco told him. "You're supposed to be stern with house elves."
"I can't be stern with Dobby." Harry complained, "He's just so… pathetic. Besides, he still gets all his work done, doesn't he?"
"Yeah. And he's been better than he was last year. At least according to Father."
Harry nodded, and the two of them quickly headed up the stairs to make sure Harry was settled in. Their next order of business, was to get out their expensive brooms and go outside to practice quidditch, which as far as Harry was concerned, was the greatest sport in the world. Witches and wizards played the game flying on broomsticks throughout the world, and there was even a world cup. It was dangerous, exciting, and Harry was famously good at it. He'd been the youngest student in a hundred years to be accepted onto a house team at Hogwarts. And Slytherin House was known for having great quidditch players.
Harry had a mixed relationship with the other students in house Slytherin. On the one hand, most of his closest friends – with the exception of the Weasley twins – were in Slytherin. But Slytherin also had a reputation for training some of the darkest wizards in Europe. Salazar Slytherin, one of Hogwarts' four founders, had prized ambition, cunning, and power, and so those types tended to be sorted into the house he created. All these things had led many Slytherins to becoming great witches and wizards, but they were also the sort of qualities possessed by some of the most infamous individuals in wizarding history. It was true, that Voldemort and many of his followers had come from Slytherin, but Harry knew there was a lot of good in his house too.
Harry hadn't been able to practice quidditch at all while he'd stayed with the Dursleys, so now he wanted to make up for lost time. Draco was also on their house quidditch team, though Draco planned to try out for a different position this year, and that was the focus of their training over the remaining week before the party.
July 30th – the day before Harry's birthday – arrived, and along with it, another letter from the Weasley twins. Their family had won some kind of raffle, and they were already vacationing in Egypt. They were quick to assure Harry that they'd still be coming to his party, even if they had to sneak away on their brooms. But more likely they'd find a way to use an international floo line like they had for Christmas the previous year.
Harry just hoped whatever they did, they didn't get in trouble, and was otherwise happy to know they'd still be attending. "If anyone deserves to win a raffle, it's those two." Harry observed, as Draco read the letter over his shoulder. There was a newspaper clipping from the Daily Prophet included with the letter. A photo of the Weasley family with a pyramid in the background was at the top of the clipping, and the article beneath it explained in greater detail about the raffle, and how the Weasley's had used their winnings to vacation in Egypt where their eldest son, Bill, worked as a cursebreaker for the goblin-run wizarding bank, Gringotts.
"It's just a shame that git Ron is profiting from their good fortune too." Draco said snidely.
Harry noticed that a good portion of the article was actually about him, as a 'friend to the Weasley children attending Hogwarts'. But as Draco had just pointed out, Harry couldn't really count all the Weasleys as friends.
Neither Harry nor Draco liked Ron Weasley very much. And the feeling was quite mutual. They'd butted heads at school from the moment they'd all first arrived, though a large part of that was due to the animosity between the patriarchs of the Weasley and Malfoy families, who worked at the Ministry of Magic together, and held wildly differing views on how best to promote wizarding laws.
The other part of that was Ron's best friend, Seamus Finnigan. He was a sandy-haired Irish boy who had also taken an instant exception to Harry. He liked picking fights, insulting Harry and his friends, and was probably the only person in the world Harry disliked more than his cousin Dudley, who had bullied him up until they both had learned Harry was a wizard.
But Harry didn't want to think about them right now. Tomorrow was his thirteenth birthday, and it was shaping up to be the best birthday of Harry's life.
Author's Comments: This was an interesting and fun chapter to write. I had several scenes I'd originally written for this chapter that I ended up moving to the next chapter, including the birthday party, because there ended up being a lot more I needed to happen in this first chapter before I could get to that.
Anyways, I hope you all thoroughly enjoy the opening to the third installment of this series.
Once again the copyrights for the Harry Potter worlds belong to J.K. Rowling. All original characters depicted here and this story are copyrighted to me.