Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. I'm just borrowing the characters for a while.
Harry paced the length of his small bedroom on the second floor at Number Four, Private Drive. The anticipation of returning to the magical world was almost more than he could bear. Any minute Ron and his Dad would be there to rescue him from his temporary summer prison and his awful relatives.
The sound of a lock clinking out of place caused the raven-haired boy to turn in the direction of the door. It creaked open to reveal the rather large form of his Uncle.
Uncle Vernon's rotund frame squeezed through the narrow doorway and into the small room. His mustache twitched as his beady eyes roamed the expanse of Harry's summer living quarters.
"Well. Is everything packed boy? Make sure you leave nothing behind. We don't have any extra room for things left behind. If you don't take it with you now it will be donated to a charity."
Uncle Vernon always addressed Harry as if he were something nasty to be dealt with and them done with, like squashing a bug or taking out the rubbish. For this reason Harry was eager to get this conversation done with. Interaction with Uncle Vernon was rarely a pleasant experience. Short, simple answers were best.
"I've got everything!"
Harry's Uncle signed before stepping forward to lift his school truck into his arms. "Come on then. You don't want to keep them waiting."
Pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, Harry followed Uncle Vernon through the door and down the stairs.
There standing in front of the usually cold fireplace was his favorite redhead. He appeared to have grown another half meter since school had ended Harry thought begrudgingly. He envied those that grew. He knew he could still pass for a first year, or possibly even younger.
Mr. Weasley had used his connections in the ministry to allow to fireplace to be attached to the floo network for a few hours.
"Hello Harry! Are you ready to leave?" Ron asked "Dad got us tickets to the World Cup from work for later this week. It will be just us blokes."
"Your mum and Ginny aren't going to go with us Ron?
"Dad said that it could be a bonding thing or something. I'm not really sure all he was going on about." Ron paused for a moment as if considering his words carefully. "Harry my name is David remember. I'm your brother. We can be best friends too, but I'm David."
James watched his youngest child interact with Harry as if he were the older brother. David and Harry would be sharing a room to help Lily and him keep a better eye on Harry. It was just as well that Harry thought David was his friend Ron. It could be worse. He could be talking to air instead of confusing someone else for his sometimes imaginary friend.
"Remember to grab his hand before we go outside David. I'm going to put your things in the boot for you once we get to the car Harry."
All the paperwork had already been signed and Harry's few things had been passed to him by the very unfriendly orderly that had brought his son down to the waiting room. David took the backpack from his brother and was placing the straps on his own shoulders.
"Alright, let's go boys."
Just as James turned to lead the way out of the building, hopefully for good, he heard a loud shout of a small voice. He instantly dropped his son's things to grab for the boy himself.
It was too late.
Harry had stepped into the fireplace and yelled "The Burrow" as loudly and clearly as he possibly could.
He had only been standing in the low burning fire for a few seconds before his father was able to pull him out but James could see that Harry's shoes were melted and the bottom of his pants were ruined. Harry seemed to only have minor injuries.
"Why didn't the floo work Mr. Weasley?"
Harry didn't seem very concerned with his injuries as his father held him in his lap to both be able to examine him and to keep him safe from himself.
"We're taking the car Harry. From now on we will always take the car. We're not going into the fireplace ever again, okay?"
"What happened to the floo? Why can't we use it anymore?"
Harry was starting to become upset. James could tell in the way his words were becoming frantic and how his body had become tense with anxiety. James struggled for something that would calm his child without having to discredit his alternate reality.
"The Ministry has decided to shut it down. Too many people were ending up in the wrong place." James said, hoping that this answer would be enough.
"Okay. I can understand that. I got lost trying to get to Diagon Alley from your house once?"
James sighed in relief that Harry had accepted that answer. After deciding that Harry's injuries weren't serious enough to be looked at by a professional, James stood up with his slight child still in his arms. David had been standing patiently nearby and looked up at the movement.
Reaching out to take his younger son's hand, James determinedly made his way towards the exit. James would do whatever he had to do to keep his children safe, even if that meant playing into Harry's fantasy world every now and then. He would do everything in his power to keep his children with him, where they are meant to be.
It was time to go home.
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