Chapter 5:

Harry didn't have the time to put a foot in the manor before Gladis popped and forced him to go to the dining room because he was "far too skinny for a young boy that age, the masters wouldn't have allowed that in their times". Harry protested that it was perfectly normal for him, but there was nothing he could do. He let Ananta down (she was now big enough to go all around the house), free Onyx which was patiently waiting in his cage, let his bags in the hall and obeyed to the little elf.

Gladis could really be scary sometimes, mostly when it was about one of the boy's health.
He ate in silence under the suspicious glare of Gladis, silently asking for help from his brother which was only smiling innocently.

When he had finished, Gladis popped away, finally letting the two boys alone.

"I think there is a muggleborn in the village." Damien finally said. "A little girl, about seven. I've seen her in a shop while I was looking around."

Harry's smile disappeared immediately.

"Is it bad?"

"Not as much as us. I have no evidence of beating, and I couldn't talk to her, she was with her mother. But I have suspicion. I gave her a note with my number just in case."

"Your number?"

"There is a lot of things we need to talk about indeed." Damien laugh.

Harry gave him a sad smile.

"It will have to wait. I have something to do tomorrow."

Harry didn't let Damien asked him what he had to do. There were things he needed to keep for himself.

"So, you're coming? I want to check if you didn't hide a tent in the library."

"Are you joking? With Gladis looking around? I'm not yet contemplating suicide, brother."
They had to stop laughing as Gladis popped back to tell them that the master's things were in his bedroom.

Harry took the book ha had copied — including Quirell's, and joined Damien back at the library. Which wasn't a library anymore but a giant and messy- very messy- office. There were books and papers everywhere, and Harry didn't know where ha was allowed walking.

"I said to the elves to clean the room only once a week, they were messing with my work." explained Damien from behind a shelve.

"Ow, they were messing with your work?"

"Wit is the only weapon of the weak."

Harry laugh. It was good to be home.

"And what work caused my library to be exposed to a typhoon?"

Damien came back and gave him an unimpressed look.

"I've actually figured out how wizards administrate their world. And it might be really useful before your little trip."

Harry was impressed. Damien wasn't joking when he said he was working harder than him.

"You're a genius, you know that?"

"Well, I came to the conclusion myself a few years ago but thank you for noticing."

Harry rose an eyebrow to Damien's smirk. That boy would have fit well in Slytherin. Well, no, he was a muggleborn and probably more attracted to books than to people, so he would have been sent to Ravenclaw, but he had potential. Maybe it was a bit thanks to Harry's influence.

Harry sat on a deep blue couch, removed his shoes and waited for Damien to be ready. The one-eye boy took a mountain a papers and throw them on the coffee table, in front of Harry. All of them were strangely organized and well-preserved. The warm light of the afternoon was slipping trough the big windows.

"So, as you've noticed in Hogwarts, wizards seems to have the conviction that each and all of their actions are written in stone, and they do everything for their conviction to be true. You know that in the muggle England, a lot of political regimes and constitutions have been used one after another, sometimes overthrown by revolutions, sometimes by legislation. The same thing happen in every nation."

Harry nodded, He didn't have the slightest idea of how he was supposed to know that as he stopped the muggle school before having actual history classes, nor that he had an idea of how Damien knew that much. But fortunately he was the mind reader so he could pretend and not look like a fool.

"Well, wizards just don't do that. They don't change their system."

"Wait, do you mean..."

"Yup. They have the same constitution and laws that were written centuries, if not millennium ago. All they do is adding bills. Bills and bills, so much that it is actually very hard to find which is what. But the main part of them consist in cutting the two worlds apart, hoping not to be discovered. In order to do that, they have different levels of their political structure: international, continental and national."

Harry wasn't sure if an eleven years old was supposed to be able to do a lecture about a political system. Well, he was the one talking about age...

"All of them are directed by a council. But I didn't have the time to look into that much. But, I've discovered something that is much closer to us: you are not supposed to do magic out of Hogwarts — or any other magical school, after attending to your first class. There is some sort of mark. I don't work with magical incidents of the underage wizards, but I cannot know much more."

"So, apart the fact that wizards's political system must be or very strong or very corrupt, you are telling me that I cannot use my principal weapon out of school for the seven next years?"

"Yes, and no. You can use magic in a magical area- like this manor. But not out of it and not in front of muggles. I you do so, the ministry will be informed and you risk being expelled and your wand broken."

Harry sigh. That was a real complication to his plans.

"So tomorrow..."

"You'll have to do whatever you will do muggle style."

Damien wasn't stupid, he had a very clear idea of what Harry will do the next day. Actually, it was something they should have done much earlier, just in case of the risks. But to do it with a muggle way... it would be ugly. He was glad Harry didn't want him to come. Damien didn't have the cruelty of the other boy. He understood it, in a way, but they both knew he wasn't able to do the same. Damien was actually pretty sure that not a lot of people could do what Harry did. That boy had a very active imagination when he had to avenge.

"Wait, that's why they didn't notice you!"

"Wha-"

"They cannot see magical incidents! There is a few muggleborn at Hogwarts, but not that much. Do you imagine how many kids they miss?"

They stood silent for a very long time, suddenly understanding the immensity of what they were fighting against.

"We have another problem."

Harry's voice was dark. Damien shivered.

"The man that killed my parents- Voldemort. He's not dead. Not far from it, but not dead. And there is worst..."

Damien's heart was starting to dangerously accelerate.

"I think he wants to return. I don't know how. But he will eventually. Do you want to know how I am aware of that. Well, actually, it seems that the man have access to my mind."

Was it fear in his voice? No, it couldn't be.

"He already has one of Hogwarts's teacher. It is actually a question of time. I need you-"

Harry took a deep breath.

"We need to learn everything about him. Who was with and against him. What was his way of ruling, was laws passed under his reign. How did he rise, how did he fall. What does he fear, what does he desire..."

Damien knelled next to him and took his hand. Harry didn't even notice he was scratching it.

"He will want for me to join him."

"I know. But we have time, we still have time. And you know what is the safest place of the Wizarding world? Hogwarts."

Harry couldn't help but to laugh. How if he knew...

They decided to change subject, at least for the day. Too much stress wasn't good for any of them. Harry show Damien the books he had collected, he told him about the people, all that happened and he had forgotten to write. It actually worried Damien. He quickly understood why Harry had laugh at him earlier. Hogwarts wasn't safe at all.

Something else made him shivered: the hate of the muggleborn. It meant that the problem was on both side. It meant that he was trapped. No, it meant that he would have to fight one day or another. Harry knew it, but he wasn't the type of person to actually worried about killing for his life. Reading the concern in his brother's mind, Harry smiled.

"Don't worry about that, I'll take a good care of it."

And it was probably the most terrifying thing he had ever said.

Harry didn't sleep that night. He had to prepare for a really long day, maybe more. He had to prepare for questions, for the police, but it was worth it. He was ready.

He went into Damien's bedroom and gave a small kiss on the other boy's forehead. If what he was about to do didn't work, he was pretty sure they would never see each other again. Tacking care not to wake up anybody, he took his school supplies, changed his clothes for old muggle's ones, and left.

He walked through the countryside, avoiding the village, for a pretty long time before calling a taxi with the cellphone Damien had given him.

The best may to avoid wizard's jail was to act like you has never heard of magic. He wondered how many dark wizards could have dodged Azkaban if they had thought to use a cellphone instead of letters that everyone could read, and which were obvious evidences.

The taxi left him somewhere around Privet Drive, in the deserted area where he had once killed a kid- what was his name again?

Harry walked around the sleepy suburbs and finally reached the Dursleys through the back of the garden. The smell when he entered the house was unbearable, heady. He almost vomited. But he had things to do, and especially to erase the evidences. He walked round the first floor, taking care to seal all the windows, then pulled out a box of matches from the drawer. The Dursleys were supposed to come back from vacation today, by taxi. The taxi passed by just before the house, stopped for a moment. The driver went out, slammed all the doors of his vehicle and left. Perfect.

Harry carefully cut off the band of the match box on which it was supposed to scratch the stick, and stuck it on the floor a few inches from the front door. Then he took one of the matches, scotched it down the door, before unlocking all the locks. He took care to leave some bundles of cigarettes open, which he had bought from the school on the kitchen counter and went out, taking good care to close the back door hermetically behind him.

He returned to the uninhabited area where he had left his belongings and headed for Privet Drive. He rang at the door of the neighbor opposite, who, as he had guessed, was not sleeping at all in spite of the early hour. He began to weep, rubbed his eyes, so that with the dirt he had accumulated from his walk in the country, when the neighbor opened it she found him quite miserable.

"Oh my poor boy!" The old maid exclaimed, raising her hands to heaven as if to ask him to protect Harry.

"What happened to you?"

"I ... I'm sorry to disturb you, Miss Figg, but I did not know where to go ..." Harry whispered sobbing, his eyes fixed on the ground.

"Oh but that's nothing my boy, come in, come in, you're going to tell me all that."
Harry entered the little house. She resembled the one he had just left, except the fact that there were cats; A lot of cats. Who looked too clever.

He sat down on the sofa covered with place mats, wiping his eyes, leaving his affairs in the entrance as if they did not matter to him. Miss Figg came back from the kitchen with a glass of milk and sat down in front of him.

"I did not want to go back ..." Harry sobbed as he shed big tears. "You know, they ... they hurt me, so when I came back from school I did not want to go back ... Since Dudley was sick ..."

His voice had gone up in the Acute to the point of almost breaking.

"Oh, I see, my poor child!"

The poor woman looked really horrified, and Harry made sure she believed everything he said.

"I spent the night outside, but I did not know where to go ... so ... so I came here ..."

He clasped his hands on his knees as if every word cost him a lot. He had understood for a very long time that the woman was a squib.

"Oh, yes, I guess Dumbledore told you to come see me if you had a problem, you did well, boy, you did well."

Harry froze. He did not expect that. He nodded pitifully.

"You think I can stay here for the holidays? Just two weeks I would work to pay my rent, I would help you, you know, my teachers say I am very good at some things!" The boy's voice was full of hope and the old lady was really saddened.

"I'm sorry Harry, but you have to go back. Dumbledore's orders are very clear, you have to stay with the Dursleys ..."

Oh. So it was like that. The old woman worked for the old fool, who was the person who had sent him to his aunt, and who had given precise orders not to leave. He knew. Dumbledore knew what the Dursleys had done to Harry. Old Figg was his spy, and she knew. Harry stuck his fingernails in the palm of his hand until he blew himself into the old skin and made him eat his eyes before returning to Hogwarts to make a surprise at the Headmaster. He used all his concentration to enclose his magic deep within himself.

Fortunately, his movement was taken for a gesture of dejection, and the old woman resumed in a compassionate tone: "But you can stay here for a moment if you want ..."

Harry kept his eyes down, perfectly aware that they had to shine because of all the magic that was breaking through him, and shook his head. The more time he stayed here ...

"Can you come with me when I go back? I did not come back last night, and I'm afraid that ..." He did not finish his sentence.

"Oh yeah, sure, Harry, I'll talk to your aunt and all will be arranged, do not worry, they'll never hurt you again, believe me."

She did not know how right she was. Irony was the only reason Harry did not throw himself on her when she added:

"When they know that Dumbledore is ordering them to stop, they will not do anything to you anymore, you're under his protection, you know, you're lucky, he's a powerful man, and believe me, even those muggles know And I think that's the only reason they've gotten you under their roof."

Harry could not help but shout.

"Oh I'm sorry Harry, I should not have said that! You know, I'm sure that deep down they love you, they're just ... well they're just themselves."

In saying this she had put her hand on Harry's shoulder. A spade of pain pierced his arm, as if all his nerves were on fire. His body remembered everything that had touched his shoulder before this pockmarked hand. He was glad that the old lady had returned to the kitchen, because he was trembling so much he could not make a move. Images passed behind her closed eyelids. Images he wanted to forget. For a moment he thought he saw Vernon in the corner of the room. His ears were buzzing and he began to see black spots in front of his eyes. His teeth squeaked. The vase that lay on the chimney imploded.

"I'm sorry Miss Figg!"

Harry was crying in pain, but the old woman thought it was a child's grief. It was normal at this age and under such difficult conditions to have violent emotions. She did not notice how the light had fallen around them.

"Oh, it's nothing, a little magic incident of nothing at all, and then this vase was ugly anyway."

She bent down to pick up the pieces.

If Harry had intended to save the old woman, he now regretted not being able to make her suffer more. He knew it was not her fault, but basically she was like Petunia. She looked passively. With the blessing of Dumbledore.

The old woman gave him biscuits and began to speak. Harry was surprised that she could remain as discreet as a spy with such a flow of words.

"After the attack on your poor parents — Lilly and James, formidable people, really, and such a beautiful couple, Dumbledore brought you here for you to be protected. We were not yet sure of the number of black magicians Dumbledore, and he and the order of the Phoenix, of which I am one of the parties-of which I belonged at the time, Have done everything so that no wizard can ever find you."

Except looking in my head...

Harry had tucked in behind an attentive listening mask. He had no reason to be angry. There was nothing to gain from being angry with the dead. At least that was what he repeated tirelessly.
Somewhere in the world he knew a certain Dark Lord who must have had a headache.

When they left the little house, two hours later, one would have thought that the small town of Privet Drive was living an eclipse. The light was yellowish, crushing. Tightening her little cardigan around her, Miss Figg knocked at the door of the Dursleys. Harry stayed on the level of the wooden fence that surrounded the garden, supposedly because he was afraid. If Miss Figg had turned around before opening the door, she could have seen him smile.

A smile full of teeth.

"Sorry" He whispered before being thrown back by the blast of the explosion. When his head hit the ground, he lost consciousness.

The ground was really hard, but Harry decided he would get up later. He had not planned to be carried away at this point by the explosion (it wasn't like he was an expert in explosions). He had bruises everywhere and the skin of his arms was scratched to the point of blood. Nothing unbearable, and there was nothing broken.

What relieved him, he had not yet thought about how to avoid hospital and health examinations. He had seen Madame Pomfray practicing a fate which revealed the whole medical history of a person, and only to this idea he shuddered. He wondered who wizards or muggles would come first. It was understood that they were the least incompetent because it was almost certain that he had evaded at least ten minutes and that all the neighbors observed the explosion and at a safe distance of five or six feet.

He focused on the crackling of the burning house. It was really a beautiful sound, that of the past that goes away.

Suddenly he heard noises of aspiration, and several men and women in wizards's robes, slightly different from the one he had seen before, appeared all around the house.

Aurors.

Harry raised his arm in the air.

"Hey, I think we need help here."

He nearly laughed when one of the aurors uttered a little shriek when he caught sight of him and rushed to his side. Harry sat down but decided that it was not yet time to get up totally, in view of the tremors that traveled his legs. He looked shocked, especially with the soot marks due to the explosion and his reddened eyes thanks to the little episode in Miss Figg. He smiled indistinctly thinking that his hair should not be worse than usual.

"I ... I ..."

"Calm down, do not force yourself to speak, I have to ask you a few things, you can shake your head to answer.

Quirell would have been proud of his pastures.

Harry nodded his head, then raised his arms to his face as if he were discovering the wound (which actually burned like all the fires of hell). The auror nodded with a concerned air, and then he noticed the open door of Mademoiselle Figg's house.

"You can walk ?"

Harry nodded and yelled and began to stand up by clinging to the arm of the auror (both not to fall and not to give the poor man a chance to touch him while trying to support him). They walked slowly to Mademoiselle Figg's house and once they got there, Harry dropped onto the sofa.

"Can you talk?" The Auror was now whispering a spell to cure Harry's arms. When he had finished, Harry snatched him away before he had time to see the other marks, and hid them under the plaid in which he had snuggled.

"Yes sir." Said Harry, his voice still uncertain because of the backlash of the explosion.

"We were warned because a sorcerer was wounded, and since you have a wand in your pocket, I conclude that it is you. What is your name?"

"Harry Potter."

The auror paled immediately and rushed out. Harry heard him whisper furiously with someone else, before coming back, a false air of calm on his face.

"Well, we'll wait here for other people to come, it's useless to force you to tell it several times."

Harry thought he liked that auror.

"This house, you know who lives here?"

"Miss-Miss Figg. She's ..." Harry lowered his head and did not finish his sentence.

"It's okay, do not worry, you'll be able to explain everything later." "Rest yourself until the competent authorities arrive."

Harry thought that eventually the ministry might not be incompetent in all areas.

A few minutes later, Dumbledore arrived at Mademoiselle Figg's house. He was calm, as usual, so much so that if Harry had not seen the worry in his blue-baby eyes, he might have thought the old man had come to make cookies. Dumbledore sat in front of him with eagerness, surrounded by two aurors, and plopped his gaze into that of Harry. Luckily the boy had already erected walls around his thoughts, pushing the pictures of the day ahead for the teacher to see. Well, not all day, of course, just enough that he could determine that Harry was not lying. And, quite ironically, Harry did not intend to lie. The auror on the teacher's left placed a parchment on the coffee table, then a pen-pen, which rose up by itself and began to write, while he said:

"Written report, explosion at 4 Privet Drive, testimony of Harry Potter."

This is an object that could be useful!

"Now, Harry, tell us what happened." Dumbledore's voice was actually comforting, and if Harry didn't have the urge to kill him on the spot, he would have felt better. But as Harry couldn't decently try to look into the headmaster's mind, he didn't know what was what. The man send him to hell, and then looked concern? Or, he is a much better liar than what Harry though first, and it wasn't good news.

He told him. He did not want to go back to the Dursleys for fear of their reaction after he went to a school of witchcraft and slept outside. The next day, not knowing what to do, he went to see Figg, who had always been kind to him. The old woman had offered to talk to Petunia for him, to spare him trouble. She had opened the door and everything had exploded. When he awoke, the aurors were there and the house was on fire.

The quill was scratching the paper all along.

"I ... how did it happen, Professor?"

Dumbledore looked at him with compassion, and Harry thought that he was becoming more and more gifted at controlling himself.

Dumbledore nodded softly.

"We will know it soon, don't worry m'boy. It will be fine. But first we have to find a place you to rest."

"I have a manor, Sir. The Potter Manor. I've been there once or twice, because the goblin at Gringotts told me that it existed. I could just move in..."

Dumbledore gave him a surprised look but said nothing.

Harry looked at the ground.

"Is... did anyone... survived?" Harry whispered, looking lost.

The adults looked at each other. Then Dumbledore said with a compassionate air.

"No, Harry ..."

The boy shrieked and collapsed into tears, or rather put his hands in front of his face so that no one noticed that he had a craving to laugh. Somehow, he was a little sorry for Miss Figg, who had only followed the orders of the person she thought was the wisest and most powerful wizard in the world, but he had not expected it to be so easy. He felt the full look of the aurors on his neck. All were aware that the last remains of his family had just taken off, and they remained silent. No one dared to approach the boy. And one thought occupied all minds.

He had survived. Once again.

They asked no questions when Dumbledore motioned them out.

"Do you want me to accompany you to the manor?"

Although Dumbled's idea of a foot in his home made him almost want to vomit, Harry agreed. He asked to go to the bathroom before. He rinsed his face and pulled out his cell phone.

Muggle technology could be really useful sometimes.

Everything went according to plan. There was no sign of life in the manor except Gladis came to greet them, and Harry noticed that Damien had taken the trouble to place a small layer of dust on most of the furniture. The boy definitely had a sense of detail. Dumbledore gave him a speech about how he would never be alone and could come to him to ask for help, or even if he needed to talk.

Harry no longer had any confidence in the man, but he had to admit that the proposal was sincere. He could see him on the man's face, and even if the headmaster was a very good liar, which Harry did not doubt for a single second, he could not imagine that Dumbledore would not tell the truth at that moment. Harry hated that, but the old man was really concerned about Harry's health. The boy did not understand anything of the contradictory information in the militia, and he was sure of one thing: he was missing something.

He wondered if he should talk to Voldemort about the professor, but decided not to. He could not make such an important decision without having all the ins and outs. And he really was not sure if he'd prefer Dumbledore to Voldemort. At least the Dark Lord was rather clear in his intentions.

After a while, Dumbledore left, explaining to Harry that a man from the ministry would come to see him in the next few days to formalize his statement and give him information about the facts and what would happen next. Harry thanked him effusively, full of gratitude eyes.

Once Dumbledore came out and disappeared, Damien rushed out of his hiding place, behind the false wall of the hall, and asked Harry a thousand questions.

Harry raised his hand, asking for a little air. Taking pity, he authorized Gladis to clean the dust that had been scattered everywhere, and crashed into one of the sofas in the drawing-room.

Damien was both horrified and impressed by the plan Harry had put in place. It was ingenious, and on many levels. Not only had he erased all the evidence, got rid of an embarrassing witness and formalized his presence and control over the manor in front of the Dumbledore and the ministry, but he had also succeeded in adding a new page to his survivor's legend. It was pure genius.

And all of that without a real lie. Slytherin would have been proud of him.

Harry asked for a hot chocolate and spent the rest of the day lying on the sofa. He was exhausted both emotionally and physically, but above all relieved. The fear of prison was gone.

He finally fell asleep on the sofa, his snake was no longer so small on his legs. Damien covered him with a blanket and decided to watch him. Whatever may be able to make his brother, Damien knew that killing someone left marks, and Harry was clearly not the kind of person to fall asleep on a couch without realizing it, There was no one to surprise his dreams.

Damien supposed it was an old reflex of the brutal awakenings his family had to make him undergo. Yet Harry looked peaceful. Her black hair cascaded on her white forehead, and the delicate features of her face no longer had the aft taste of falsehood and grief. When he closed his eyes, his eyes so terrifying and fascinating, one could only see the child. Damien suddenly realized all the things that weighed on such young shoulders. He resented the world for that, but not in the manner of his brother, no, rather as a sort of resigned fatality. Damien was not the kind of person to fight, but he had the feeling that this would change soon.

As soon as he woke, Harry felt dirty. He realizes that he had not taken the time to take a shower after he had returned from Hogwarts. Damien had fallen asleep in the chair in front of him. Being careful not to wake him, Harry went upstairs to wash, followed by Ananta. The snake wound on the bed.

He let the water run over his face for a long time. His muscles relaxed little by little. The water swept away the blood and grime and left his skin white and clean. Before getting dressed, Harry looked at himself in the mirror for a moment.

It was hard, but he forced himself to do it regularly. He knew that few people could support the sight of his body covered with scars. Some of his bones had badly soldered and deformed limbs, his chest and his back. His thinness did not seem to want to disappear and made his bones appear even more. They were rolling under his skin. His shoulders had marks of pinkish burning, and he was almost certain to be able to perceive the blackish mark of his heart in the middle of his thoracic cage, beneath the translucent skin.

Disgusting.

He sighed and dressed. He put on a pair of dark green trousers that were perfectly cut, a black top, and a mouse gray with silver scrolls reaching to his knees and the collar rising to his neck, so that all his scars were hidden. He arranged his hair, now a little over his shoulders, put on a pair of black boots and went down to the library.

"Gladis!"

The little elf appeared.

"An auror will come today, or tomorrow I do not really know ... I have business to settle with him ... If he rings at the door, I want you to take him here and send another elf To come to me before he enters the library, which is very important, and lead him as if he were the most distinguished guest you have ever received. Make him enter the room and do not leave until I tell you so."

"Yes, Master Potter."

And Gladis disappeared.

Harry pulled out his wand and began to put away the books and parchments they had left on the various tables, taking care to hide the plans of the ministry that Damien had to find while he was out the day before. Harry said he was lucky that one of his grandparents worked at the ministry, especially since he appeared to be working at the Muggle sections and had duplicated many Reports to bring him home.

Of course, the information was a bit dated, but that just might give it a view of a longer therm. He went to work. He took out all the books he had bought but had not had time to read about the first war. He had to understand the stakes in knowing where to place himself, since the dead of this war seemed resolutely wanting to return to life. He was in the process of recopying in one of his reports the names of the Death Eaters arrested after Voldemort's fall, as well as the sentence that had fallen to them when one of the little elves dedicated to the household appeared and told him that the guest had just entered the field. Harry dismissed it with a wave of his hand before putting away his work and opening a book of herbology before him.

Someone knocked at the door.

"Come in!" He said, accentuating the youth of his voice.

Gladis came in, followed by a thirty-year-old woman, with blond hair pulled back. She looked nervous and relaxed immediately when she saw Harry. He was so small! Harry stood up, said hello to him with all the politeness of the world, his hands deliberately trembling, and motioned him to sit on the couch as he sat elegantly in the matching chair, right in front of her. He waited a few seconds with an embarrassed air, then said:

"Thanks Gladis, you can leave." The Auror turned, surprised, as the elf disappeared.

"I'm sorry for that. She's a little overprotective since I came here yesterday. Just look at the clothes she bought me!" Saying that, he rose his arm dramatically under the woman's appreciative look.

"Don't worry, Mr Potter. To be in charge of an estate so young his very difficult, especially in such... dramatic situation. But I'm sure you will have time to adapt."

Harry nodded with a sad smile.

"I am here to explain what we have found, what will happen and to answer your questions." Replied the Auror, in a gentle voice. "First, about the incident."

Harry pinched his lips and closed his eyes for a moment.

"Apparently your family had taken advantage of your absence to go on holiday some time, they came back one day before you technically the day you should have gone home, we found a lot of gas. It was left open by accident, and one of the members of the family smoked, he lighted his lighter, causing the explosion. Do you have any information that could confirm this hypothesis?" Harry took his head in his hands. "Dudley had started smoking a little before I left for Hogwarts ..."

"Dudley was your cousin, right?"

He agreed. "I know that it must be hard to talk about this kind of thing, but we need all the information, and given what we have, the investigation will be closed by the end of the week, it is not necessary to aggravate your grief for what it all means as an accident. We will now talk about what will happen next. First of all, your business will be sent to you as soon as the investigation Will be closed, so you will receive them by Friday."

The green-eye boy looked relieved, making the woman smile.

"Because you are still a minor, you are supposed to be placed under the guarding of a third party until your 17 years. However, in view of your capacities, and because you are the last member of your family, Albus Dumbledore insisted so that we let you make the decision. You can thus ask to be adopted by a family of wizards, or then to take your independence, under the condition of a regular visit of an adult when you will be outside the school."

Harry took time to think.

"I have two questions: is the adoption whole, I mean there that I would be legally the son in the family, and in both cases who would be concerned to take care of me?"

" I understand. Let me see." She opened the small file which she had taken with her.

"If you choose adoption, It will only be effective adoption, you will not take the name of the family. It's written here that the Malfoys have already proposed themselves, along with the Longbottoms. On the other hand, if you choose partial independence, you can choose any willing adult to look over you. Dumbledore would be the most obvious choice, of course, but some other people may presents themselves."

"Do I have to choose now?"

"No, of course no. We know it is a very hard decision to make. You have two months. During this time, different people will come to check after you during the holidays, and then there will be no problem as you will be in school."

Harry nodded. That was a choice he had to look after very carefully.

"I believe I have said everything. Do you have any question?" Harry put a mask of pure sorrow on his face.

"Did... did they suffer?"

He could almost physically feel the woman's compassion.

"No. They didn't have the time..."

Harry nodded. He himself accompanied the woman to the gate, whence she apparted, and returned to the library.

"Gladis!"

"Yes Master Potter?"

"Where is Damien?"

"He is sleeping in the armchair, Master Potter. Do you want Gladis to wake him up?"

"No, non, thank you. Let him sleep. Just tell me when he wakes up."

"Yes, Master Potter." Alone again, Harry went back to work, Ananta slowly slithering on the table. He couldn't wait to see today's newspapers.