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Chapter 2 Number 12 Grimmauld Place

On an unusually cool Thursday morning, Harry found himself sitting in a small physical therapy room and Gail Hart, a young healer with short red hair, was magically fitting him with a prosthetic leg. Once the fit and height were correct, Gail took Harry's arm and the teenage boy stood carefully. "How's the leg feel?" Gail asked, as she held onto Harry.

"Okay… I guess," Harry replied, taking a step forward. He felt a little off balance, but the charms on the prosthetic corrected him and his next step was steadier.

"You should be okay to go home in a day or two," Gail said, walking with Harry around the room. "If you need help let me know. You may need a cane or something for a while, but I think you'll get used to it once you've done a bit more walking with the prosthetic." After a while, Harry asked to sit down and Gail led him to a bench a short ways away. "Harry, if you need to talk about this—"

"I just want to get out of here," Harry said, not meeting Gail's eyes.

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"He's withdrawn, he's not really talking to anyone, and he's incredibly moody," Gail said to Dumbledore who had stopped by to check on Harry.

"It sounds to me as if Harry is behaving like any normal teenager whose life has been drastically changed," Dumbledore replied.

"Harry needs friends and family with him through this," Gail insisted. "When Petunia Dursley visits, Harry becomes even more withdrawn. He's almost ready to leave. He should go somewhere he feels comfortable."

Dumbledore looked pensive. "I understand. I will arrange for Harry to go someplace other than the Dursleys' home."

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Harry was lying in bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling when Dumbledore walked into Harry's room with Molly Weasley in tow. "Harry."

"What?" Harry said, grumpily, not even bothering to turn and look at the headmaster.

"You are set to leave this afternoon," Dumbledore said, cheerfully.

"Fine," Harry said, flatly still staring at the ceiling.

"You will not be going home with your aunt," Dumbledore added. "—as I have made other arrangements."

"Whatever."

"You will be staying with Professor Snape, Voldemort, and the Malfoys for the duration of your summer holidays," Dumbledore said, a smirk on his face and a twinkle in his eye.

"Okay. I… What?" Harry finally sat up and turned to look at Dumbledore.

"I hoped that would capture your attention," Dumbledore said, smiling. "Don't worry, Harry. I will not be sending you to Snape. Rather, you will be going to a secret location in London accompanied by Molly."

Harry smiled at Mrs. Weasley and she had the sense that it was Harry's first smile all summer. "We'll be traveling by Apparation, Harry. Dumbledore has already collected your things and sent them along."

Harry tried not to think of Dumbledore's impression of his messy room back at #4 Privet Drive and instead asked, "Does everyone know about… you know… that I lost my leg?"

Molly shook her head. "I didn't know until now what had happened. Dumbledore just told me that you were in St. Mungo's."

Harry nodded. "Okay. So… when do we leave?"

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Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were cleaning out the drawing room of #12 Grimmauld Place when the door creaked open. Turning to see who had arrived, they were surprised and delighted to see Harry standing there.

"Harry!" Hermione squealed as she ran to hug Harry, stopping short when she noticed that he was leaning on crutches. "Harry, what happened? Was in the muggles?"

"Uncle Vernon was driving drunk," Harry said, heading to a chair against the nearest wall. He sat down and Ron, Hermione, and Ginny stood next to him, eager to hear what had happened. "He's in a coma… Aunt Petunia's filing for divorce because Dudley got hurt in the crash."

Ginny sat on the arm of Harry's chair and looked at him. "What about you?"

Harry sighed and pulled up the left leg of his jeans, revealing the prosthetic.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, looking at her best friend. "I'm sorry. How much did they…?"

"About halfway up my thigh," Harry replied.

"They chopped your leg off?" Ron said, shocked.

"It was the muggle doctors," Harry said, trying to ignore Ron's tone. "Even Dumbledore agreed that amputation was the best choice."

"Yeah, but how are you going to play Quidditch?" Ron asked.

"Ron, shut up!" Ginny snapped. "You're so insensitive!"

But Harry had gotten up and was now heading out of the room and up to the bedroom Mrs. Weasley had told him he would be staying in. Sitting on the bed, Harry tried to shrug off the doubts that filled his mind.

"Potter."

Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody clomped into the room and sat on the other bed in the room. "Dumbledore told me about what happened."

"It's…" Harry couldn't form the word 'okay'.

"It's awful, isn't it?" Moody said, a note of understanding in his voice.

"Yeah, it is," Harry said, nodding. "Ron was just…"

"It's hard to understand unless it's happened to you," Moody said, gruffly. Standing up, he patted Harry on the shoulder. "You'll be just fine, Potter. Just keep at it."

"Thanks," Harry said, feeling a little better.

"Anytime, Potter."

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Petunia Dursley understood why Harry didn't want to come back to Privet Drive but she was hurt that Harry wasn't even giving her a chance to make up for the past 14 years.

But maybe that was because there really was no way to make up for all Harry had been through.

No, there had to be away to get Harry to open up to Petunia.

Heading up to the attic, Petunia rummaged around for ages until she finally unearthed two old photo albums. After giving them a very thorough cleaning, she wrapped them up and set to writing Harry a letter.

'Dear Harry,

I know you probably don't want to hear from me but I'm going to keep writing you anyway.

What Vernon and I did to you all those years is inexcusable.

But all I ask is for you to give me a chance.

With this letter I am including Lily's pictures from before Hogwarts.

Please write back,

Petunia Evans

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Harry stared at the albums his aunt had sent. There were pictures of Lily as a baby… when she lost her first tooth… her first day of primary school.

In some of the earlier pictures, Lily and Petunia actually seemed to be friendly. But as the girls aged, Harry could see that there were fewer pictures of the sisters together and more of them separately.

Why had Petunia waited until now to start embracing Harry as her nephew? Harry closed the albums and lay back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling—something he'd been doing a lot lately. It was too late for Petunia to try and be his family now. Still… she was the last connection Harry had to his mother. And he wasn't ready to cut that bond just yet.

Turning his head to look at Petunia's letter which was lying on the bedside table, Harry couldn't help but wonder why Petunia had used her maiden name. Because she wanted Harry to believe her words? Or because she had wanted to cut herself off from Uncle Vernon?

"Mind if I come in, Harry?"

Sitting up, Harry saw Mrs. Weasley standing in the doorway. "Mrs. Weasley. Did you need help with something?"

"That's alright, Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, waving a hand dismissively. "You're recovering. No, I wanted to talk to you about your aunt."

Harry's face clouded over. "Oh," he said, and looked away.

"Harry, your aunt sent me a letter," Mrs. Weasley said, sitting at the foot of Harry's bed. "She wants to be here for your birthday. I won't invite her if you don't want me to," she added, watching Harry's face.

"Whatever," Harry said, lying back down. "I don't care. Go ahead."

Mrs. Weasley stood and left the room without another word. She wanted Harry to be back to his old self. But it seemed that the loss of his leg had sapped Harry of most emotion. If only there was some way to cheer him up…

"Is Harry still in his room, Molly?" asked Sirius Black as he came up the stairs.

Mrs. Weasley nodded. "He's not feeling very social right now, poor dear… But you're welcome to try and cheer him up, Sirius. Goodness knows if you can't get through to the boy I doubt anyone can."

Sirius nodded and went to Harry's room opening the door to see his godson lying on his bed. "Sorry I haven't been to see you much, Harry," Sirius said, walking into the room and sitting at the foot of Harry's bed.

"'S fine," Harry muttered. "Who wants to be around a cripple anyway?"

"It's not just losing your leg, is it?" Sirius asked, staring hard at his godson. "Molly told me about the letter from your aunt."

"After all this time she decides to be my family?" Harry said, bitterly. "What about when I was little and I needed her to be there for me? All those times I wanted her approval… her love? She can't just suddenly demand to be a part of my life."

"You don't think it could have been because of the accident?" Sirius asked, resting a hand on Harry's artificial leg. "If you're gone, Petunia loses her last connection to Lily. You're the one reminder Petunia sees every day. The one she can't ignore."

Harry scoffed. "She sure has tried to pretend I don't exist over the years."

"Petunia can pretend," Sirius said, kindly. "But she can't deny that you do exist. She opened her home to you. Unwillingly, maybe… but she still let you in. Maybe that's all she could do because of your uncle."

Harry gave a shrug. "Maybe."

Sirius stood and smiled down at Harry. "Come on. Your friends want to see you."

Harry got shakily to his feet. "I still feel a little off balance with this prosthetic."

"Cane or crutches?" Sirius asked, watching Harry carefully.

Harry paused then said, "Cane." Taking a wooden cane from Sirius, the two headed down the hall and slowly down the stairs finally coming to the drawing room where Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny Weasley were working on cleaning a glass fronted cabinet with Mrs. Weasley and Ginny.

They all turned when they heard Harry enter the room. Ginny gave him a warm smile which he returned. "Need a hand, Mrs. Weasley?"

Molly looked like she was about to say no, but seeing the miniscule shake of the head from Sirius, she nodded and said, brightly, "We're just cleaning this cabinet out, Harry. Just start chucking things into the sacks on the floor."

Harry nodded and limped over to the cabinet and started cleaning with the others. It actually felt good to be doing something. It took his mind off the other issues.

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