I may or may not listen to the Annie soundtrack while I write this fic. Not gonna confirm. Also, I think my main plot hole has been fixed please say nice things guys, I made an effort to sort of fix it. No one mentioned Bruce's great Dad joke last chapter and that made me super sad, so you all owe me. Also, it's the 19th of June, which is my birthday, so, yeah, feel free to leave a comment as a birthday gift ;)
RECAP: Mary Grayson nee Dursley had a son, Dick, who came to visit his only living relatives, the Dursleys. Dick is not thrilled to learn how they treat their other nephew, Harry, so Dick, with the help of his trusty side-kick Bruce Wayne, sort of kidnap Harry. Harry, has sent word to his friends that he is looking for alternative accommodations, but that doesn't seem to be going well…
"I'm sure no one meant it that way, Harry. I bet if we just talk to Professor Dumbledore-" He cut her off, not wanting to hear anymore.
"You know what? I'm done listening to Dumbledore. I'll just stay somewhere else!"
"Oh, wait, Harry!" But he had already pulled the phone away from his ear and jabbed the red disconnect button. Seeing the call disconnect didn't do anything about the rage boiling in Harry's gut. Now everyone was keeping secrets from him, even Hermione! Hopefully, Ron's letter tomorrow would have better news in it.
Harry took a moment to fume at the phone in peace for a minute. He fought the urge to throw it across the room because it wasn't his and that would probably be rude.
The smell of food coming from the other room caused his stomach to growl, so Harry took a deep breath and decided to push the conversation out of his mind for the moment. He took another deep breath, and walked back into the shared common space.
Dick and Bruce were sitting across from each other at the table, with their food in front of them, but untouched as they were in the middle of a conversation. The food all looked just as amazing as it smelled, and Harry was only stopped from sitting at his place because it seemed like they were having a private conversation.
"Percy thinks it would have to take at least week," Wayne was telling Dick. "The laws are in place for a reason, so he doesn't think he can get around them, but he's looking into it. Ah, hello Harry," Wayne said to him. "Take a seat and dig it."
"Here's your phone." Harry set the phone down on the table as he sat next to Dick. The phone began to ring as soon as he set it down on the table. The screen clearly displayed the number that he had just called, Hermione's number, and Harry hit the red button on the screen to stop it before he took a big bite of the food. Soft and warm, and practically melting on his tongue, Harry almost forgot how angry he was a second ago. The protein, some type of flaky fish, was amazing and new. The vegetables, and Harry couldn't even tell what they were because surely a vegetable could not be this delicious, had just the right amount of crunch to not make the dish one note, and there was some delicious sauce that Harry couldn't possibly guess the content of, but he could probably eat a liter of it. Harry almost thought he could die happy after eating this.
"I take it the call didn't go well?" Dick asked, kindly ignoring the minor food crisis Harry was having.
Harry swallowed what was in his mouth hastily before he lied. "No, she's going abroad with her family."
Harry ignore the looks that Wayne and Dick exchanged in favor of eating more of his food. The phone on the table began to ring again and Harry scowled at it before hitting the red button with more force than necessary.
"Maybe you should answer that," Wayne suggested. Despite how nice and accepting Wayne had been, Harry could not stop his harsh response even if he wanted to.
"Yeah, well, maybe, I don't want to," Harry answered mulishly before eating another bite and glaring at his plate. Not that the food did anything wrong. It was perfect.
Harry still saw the look exchanged across the table by the other two, and he felt momentarily bad about his tone, but Hermione's secrets and lies were still rattling around in his head.
"Perhaps," Wayne started, and one of his eyebrows was raised and his lips were pursed, and for a moment he reminded Harry of Professor Mcgonagall right before she would give a detention. Dick was very focused on eating his pasta, and he seemed to be trying to perfectly twirl it around his fork.
"Perhaps," Wayne continued. "You could enlighten us as to what happened, Harry?"
Somehow Wayne's calm tone switched to reminded Harry all too much of Dumbledore, who always seemed to know everything, yet never return the favor to Harry. Harry felt the anger practically churning in his gut, sparking into what seemed may have been a colossally bad idea, but, well, in for a penny…
"Well, perhaps," Harry answered as he stood up, forcing his chair back so aggressively that it fell to the floor and slamming his hands on the table so he could lean over towards Wayne. He tried to make his tone soft like Wayne's, but his anger wasn't particularly soft. "Perhaps, I don't want to do that either."
"Sit back down, Harry," Wayne ordered, and he still looked perfectly calm, and how could he still have his damn eyebrow raised as Harry was practically boiling inside?"
"I don't want to."
Dick's fork clattered on his plate, but Harry was too busy staring Wayne down to look over. Wayne's face didn't hold any expression other than that raised eyebrow and Harry thought that maybe if he stared at it hard enough he might be able to bring some accidental magic to this fight.
"We are having dinner together, Harry. Sit back down," Wayne said, still maintaining eye contact and that damn eyebrow was still there. Harry was starting to feel like, perhaps, in some way, he may have over reacted.
"Why should I?" Harry asked, still standing, but his tone was less forceful than last time.
Wayne took a deep breath, and, thank God, the eyebrow went down. "I understand that you are going through a large upheaval in your life at the moment, but that does not excuse your current behavior, young man. We are going to have a civil conversation because you are currently a child who needs to find a place to go, and we want to help."
While the sentiment was good, the moment Wayne called him a child Harry felt the rage bubbling up again, stronger than before.
"I am not a child," Harry told Wayne with probably more force than necessary, if Wayne's brief moment of eye-widening surprise was any indication.
"You're fourteen," Wayne pointed out, controlling his surprise at Harry's sudden raised voice. "That makes you still legally a child, at least in the eyes of the government."
"I don't care what the government says," Harry spat out. "I don't care what you say, what the Dursley's say, what Dumbledore says, or anyone else! I watched Cedric Diggory get killed and Voldemort come back to life, and I played in that bloody tournament and lived to talk about that and all the other stuff I've had to deal with because I'm Harry freaking Potter! So, none of you have any right to order me around or not tell me things just because of how old I am!"
Harry was panting by the end of the tirade, and seeing Wayne shocked expression and Dick's horrified one sort of made the anger drain out of him. Suddenly exhausted, Harry grabbed his chair back up from the floor and slumped back into it. His food was still in front of him, so Harry picked up his fork and took a large bite.
"So, yeah," Harry mumbled with food in his mouth, drained from his outburst. "I'm not just a kid."
Harry was still chewing and staring down at his food, a bit uncomfortable with looking up at the people he just yelled at, when Dick and Wayne seemed to come back to their senses a few seconds later.
Dick grabbed Harry in a tight hug, which was really uncomfortable and awkward since they were still sitting in chairs and Harry was still holding his fork in his hand when he returned the hug tentatively. Harry's chin ended up hooked over Dick's shoulder, so he was facing Wayne who look pained, but still forced a tight smile when he caught Harry's eyes.
"It sounds like quite the story you have," Wayne finally said into the tense silence. "I think you should start from the beginning."
Dick nodded and pulled away from the strange hug, ruffling Harry's hair as he did it. Dick was a weird guy.
"First, let's finish dinner, it's been a long day," Dick suggested, but then his phone began to ring again, and, sure enough, it was Hermione's number on the screen.
"Change of plans," Dick said quickly as he picked up the phone. "You are going to answer this and apologize to that poor girl, and then tell her you are okay." Without giving Harry time to argue, Dick pulled Harry out of his chair, shoved him into their shared bedroom, while answering the call and shoving it to Harry's ear.
"What?" Harry asked, more out of surprise than real indignation, but the door shut behind him and Dick didn't respond. His hand was clutching the phone to his ear so it didn't fall to the ground.
"Oh, Harry, you answered," Hermione breathed. Her voice was quiet, but laced with happiness, not unlike the tone she used on her evil cat when he was feeling particularly aggressive.
"I am sorry about what I said," she quickly continued, almost without taking a breath. "Of course you deserve to know what's going on. It's just, oh Harry, I don't know what is happening either, and the few things I was told, I was told not to tell anyone in case anyone else overheard. I'm scared, and I don't want anyone else to get hurt. Do you understand?"
"Yeah," Harry answered slowly. "But, that doesn't mean I have to be happy about it."
"Of course not, Harry!" Hermione reassured. "Are you okay? Why did you want to stay with me over the Summer?"
"I'm okay, Hermione." He took a deep breath. "You know how my relatives aren't the nicest." Harry took her snort as agreement. "Well, when I got back yesterday there was someone else there, apparently my uncle also has a nephew."
"Was he terrible too?" Hermione interrupted with her breathless I-need-to-know-the-answer tone, so Harry knew she just couldn't hold it in any longer.
"No," Harry answered. "No, he is really great actually. Way nicer than the Dursleys. I'm actually not sure how they are related. But, anyway, he didn't like how they were treating me, so he and his father sort of brought me back to their hotel and offered to bring me back to their house."
"Oh, Harry," Hermione sounded like she might cry, and Harry wasn't totally sure why, but she continued before he could ask. "I am so sorry that I never helped you with your awful relatives, I just didn't know how, you have to understand, but I am so glad someone is helping you out."
"Er, thanks Hermione," Harry answered, a little embarrassed from her words. He heard her sniff, and her next words sounded less tearful.
"You've only known them for two days, and they want you to come stay with them? That sounds suspicious, Harry. Are you sure it is safe?" Hermione questioned rather firmly.
"I know it sounds weird, but, I mean, we are kind of cousins, and they've been really great, Hermione. I'm actually thinking I might go with them, at least for a bit."
"If you think you can trust them, it might not be a bad idea," Hermione answered nervously.
Suddenly there was a knock on the door, and Dick's voice followed it. "Your food's getting cold, Harry!"
"Who was that?" Hermione asked.
"That was Dick, my sort of cousin." Harry explained. "We were eating dinner when you called, and I should probably get back to it."
"You mean you were eating dinner while you were ignoring my calls," Hermione corrected, and, well, she wasn't wrong.
"Er, yeah, that," Harry admitted.
"Go eat dinner," Hermione decided, and Harry was thankful she wasn't angrier. "And, I want you to call me tomorrow. And, you are going to keep me updated on what's happening. And, if anything seems strange with these people, you should call me, yes?"
"Yes, Hermione," Harry promised. "Bye."
"Have a nice dinner," she replied as she hung up. Well, that had gone better than he expected.
Wayne wasn't at the table when Harry returned. "He had another work call," Dick explained, then encouraged him to finish his food. It wasn't as warm as it was, but it didn't get any less delicious.
Harry finished ravenously, and answered Dick's questions about how his call with Hermione went. He had been finished with his food for a few minutes when Wayne reemerged from his bedroom. There seemed to be some sort of silent signal, as Harry and Dick both got up from the table and moved into the sitting area behind it. Harry sat himself down on the couch, while Wayne took an armchair on the far side, and Dick plopped himself down cross legged on the coffee table. Once they were seated comfortably, Wayne spoke.
"Now start from the beginning," he ordered. And Harry went readily into his tale.
He started with explaining the background of Voldemort, Wayne didn't like his lack of history knowledge much, but Harry was only an infant at the time. Harry then went into the murder of his parents, which was emotional, but they got through it. He then skipped to when he was eleven and got into Hogwarts, and learned about magic. He talked a bit about Quirrel and Voldemort and the whole Stone mess. Then he talked about the basilisk problem the school, and how that was resolved, and how he felt a bit bad for the idiot Lockhart. He talked about Sirius Black and time turners and made sure to stress his innocence and Pettigrew's blame. He explained the incident at the quidditch world cup, and then the whole blasted tournament, and everything that happened during it.
After telling his story, in full and with no more yelling, with pauses for questions and for more in depth explanations when asked, Harry actually felt a bit better. Dick and Wayne had been avid listeners, not interrupting besides asking for more detail, some of which Harry couldn't give, which seemed to worry them. They had seem horrified at certain parts, and Harry had to admit that fighting Quirrel deep below Hogwarts and killing a giant snake and facing soul sucking monsters, and seeing Voldemort be reborn was pretty awful in retrospect. They also seemed rather disappointed in the many details that Harry just didn't know, so Harry tried to answer all their questions as well as he could, even if they were strange questions. Why would they care about if the Dursleys had taken Harry school shopping? Or why he had the ability to speak Parseltongue? Or Sirius' lack of trial? Or how he felt about his teacher really being a Death Eater? And a million other things because they had more questions than Hermione ever could.
Dick had been asking Harry a question about the Tournament, about the maze and how that was monitored, when Wayne stood up abruptly and informed them it was time for bed.
"Harry, you've had a long day," Wayne said, running a hand through his hair and looking troubled at a point above Harry's head. "And, a long life by the sound of it, but it is getting late, and I think you and Dick should head to bed." He looked down at Harry, straight in the eye. "Just know that nothing you have said here changes anything about what we've said. You are still more than welcome to come with us over the Summer, and longer, if you want. Or, if you have somewhere else you would like to go, we are more than happy to help you get there."
For a moment, Harry thought Wayne might go for a hug or a hair ruffle or something, but Wayne just swept out of the room and shut his bedroom door behind him. Dick and Harry had exchanged looks, but shuffled into their room as they were told.
Getting ready for bed was a quiet affair. Harry didn't realize just quite how long he had been talking, nor how exhausting that, along with the rest of his day, had been. His feet were practically dragging by the time he was crawling into bed. But, while his body was tired, Harry's mind was still racing over all that had happened today.
Wayne was strange. Almost as strange as Dick. Harry didn't think he could recall another time when an adult listened to him for that long. It was nice to be able to explain everything, and to complain about how unfair it was and seemingly not be judged for it.
Suddenly, a horrifying thought occurred to Harry, and he just had to voice it to the other occupant in the room.
"Do you think Wayne's mad at me?" Harry asked in a whisper to the dark room.
"Mad at you?" Dick whispered back, clearly perplexed. Harry heard some shuffling of the sheets and assumed Dick turned to face him despite the darkness in the room. "No, he's not mad at you, why would you think that?"
"Well," Harry fiddled with his covers and turned to face Dick too, even if it was too dark to see him. "I sort of yelled at him earlier, and then he just sent us to bed."
"Well it's been a long day, and you were yawning, so it is good to sleep. And Bruce just wants to mull over what you said. He's probably calling the people he knows in the magical world to learn more about it as well. He likes knowing things," Dick explained, then he laughed softly. "And, kid, if you think that was yelling, you should see some of Bruce and my fights. I've heard they're terrifying to witness."
"You and Wayne fight?" Harry asked because he honestly couldn't picture it at all. Both seemed too calm to get into a real screaming match.
"Oh, yeah, we were kind of awful for a bit," Dick confided. "It's gotten better since then, we still fight, but not as much, but, yeah, when I was, like, fifteen and sixteen, it was really bad. I actually moved in with my friends Megan and Conner for a little while."
"What were you fighting about?" Harry asked.
Dick took a moment to respond and Harry wondered if he fell asleep, then realized the question was probably very personal to Dick, and was about to tell him he didn't have to answer when Dick responded.
"It had to do with Jason," Dick finally admitted to the dark room. Harry felt his stomach drop because Jason, Dick's dead brother, was probably a touchy subject, and if Dick was angry when Jason joined his family, how would he act if Harry came to stay?
"Were you mad about him coming to live with you guys?" Harry asked tentatively, blaming the darkness for the reckless and, most likely, rude question.
"No, nothing like that. I was thrilled that Jay was there," Dick promised, but his tone was more distant. Harry wanted to tell Dick he didn't have to keep going, but he couldn't get the words out in time. "Bruce promised Jason something that was mine," Dick continued. "Bruce wanted me to grow out of it and become my own person, and then he wanted Jason to have it, so Jason could grow as well." Dick gave a wry laugh. "All I heard, though, was that he wanted to take something that was mine, so I screamed at him and left."
"What happened?" Harry asked. Obviously, Dick and Wayne were on better terms now, so it had to have gotten resolved.
"Well, Bruce and I are bad at admitting we're wrong, so I was staying with my friends, and he was staying back home. Finally, Jason came and found me, and he thought it was all his fault, which it wasn't, but he was crying and apologizing, so I had to explain that Bruce was being an idiot. But, Bruce came looking for Jason and heard all of it, and he explained his point of view, and we worked it out, so it was alright in the end."
"Oh," Harry answered, not completely understanding what the problem had been, but glad it had been solved.
"Bruce and I still fight occasionally, but after that we learned to listen to each other a bit more. Trust me, Bruce is used to dealing with people being angry at him," Dick promised. "And, he was serious about you coming back with us. I know you and I aren't related by blood, and we haven't known each other very long, but you should seriously think about it."
"Yeah, I will," Harry answered, and he didn't know what to say next, but felt himself yawn. "I think I'm going to go to sleep now. Night."
"Goodnight, Harry," Dick said as he rolled back over.
Harry meant to stay up and contemplate what he was going to do. Should he go with these people or try and crash on whatever Hermione was doing? But what if he got sent back to the Dursleys? No, surely the Dursleys wouldn't let him back after this debacle. Staying with Ron could be nice. He knew the Weasley's, and he had stayed with them in the past. But, he knew how full that house already was, plus their money was rather tight, and he doubted they would accept money from him. But, there was still a feeling in the back of his mind that it could be nice to go with Dick and Wayne.
Before he could come to any clear decision, Harry felt himself drift off to sleep.
The dream was different this time. Usually it was murky, twisted versions of the graveyard, sometimes with a nice memory of a dementor or a basilisk or even that bright green light thrown in. But tonight, tonight it was a familiar horror.
He remembered the moment in perfect detail, in a way that dreams rarely ever were. He could feel himself secured to the statute, felt the sharp parts that dug into his back, felt how cold it was despite the layer of cloth that should have blocked that, felt the restraints and how they bruised his flesh. The pain in his arm, where Wormtail the traitor had stabbed him, throbbed painfully. Harry tried to cling to the fact that this was a dream, but that thought seemed to elude him the more he tried to concentrate on it. It didn't seem like a dream. Maybe it wasn't.
The back of Voldemort's head, pale and practically glowing in the darkness of the graveyard, was in front of him. Clear, sharp and focused. Looking beyond that, Harry could see the circle of followers in their masks, pale and bright, surrounded by darkness. The edge of Harry's vision was blurred and watery, filled with tears he was not going to shed in this awful place, surrounded by these horrible people.
Voldemort was speaking and Harry had to strain to pay attention to the words, they were soft and hissed in that high and dangerous voice Voldemort had. Suddenly, the words became crystal clear in his mind, and the sudden volume made Harry's scar hurt. "But how to get at Harry Potter?" Voldemort thundered in his mind. "For he has been better protected than I think even he knows, protected in ways devised by Dumbledore long ago, when it fell to him to arrange the boy's future. Dumbledore invoked an ancient magic, to ensure the boy's protection as long as he is in his relations' care. Not even I can touch him there."
The pain in Harry's head intensified to an unbearable level, and Harry felt the statue he was affixed to shake in a dangerous manner that he didn't remember ever happening.
Harry sat up in bed suddenly, almost violently banging heads with Dick, who had been leaning over him, but pulled his head away in time.
"Breath Harry! You need to breath!" Dick was saying and the door opened up behind him, and suddenly Wayne was in the doorway.
"Is everything alright?" Wayne was asking, but it sounded like he was talking from far away to Harry.
"I think so," Dick responded, his face was right in front of Harry, so it was strange that his voice sounded far away as well. "Harry, what happened? You need to breath, here match my breathing."
The dream, which a moment ago had been a haze of fear and mostly just gave Harry the overwhelming urge to not go back to sleep, now focused into sharp clarity. Wards. He was surrounded by magical wards when he was with the Dursleys. Now that Voldemort had a body again, he would definitely come after Harry. And if he was at Wayne's house, with Dick and everyone else, they could all get hurt. Too many people were getting hurt because of him.
"I can't," Harry got out in between gasps of air.
"Of course you can," Dick encouraged. "You're already doing it."
"No," Harry replied, frustrated that he wasn't being understood. "I can't. I can't go with you."
"Why not?" Wayne asked gently as he sat down on Harry's other side. "What was your dream about?"
"Not a dream." Harry shook his head vigorously. "It was a memory."
Dick and Wayne exchanged a look above Harry's head, but Harry didn't have the patience to ask them to explain. "A memory about what?" Dick asked tentatively, and Harry suddenly noticed that Dick's hand was absently running up and down his back, following the rhythm that Dick had been trying to get him to breath with.
"There's wards, magical wards," Harry tried to explain. "That Dumbledore apparently set up around the Dursley's house. It is safe there from Voldemort. I can't go with you, you could get hurt."
"Harry, do you think there is any imminent danger?" Wayne asked seriously. "Do you think there could be an attack tonight?"
"No," Harry answered, surprised by the question. "He just got his body back, and no one knows I left the Dursleys yet anyway. But it's ancient magic and only works when I'm with my relatives, so it won't work with you."
"Yes, I understand that, Harry," Bruce promised. "And, tomorrow we can look more into that and see if we can learn more about it, but right now I think you should go back to sleep."
Harry suddenly looked around him. Both of the men were in what clearly constituted as pajamas and their hair was messy from sleep. A quick glance at the hotel room clock showed it was nearly four in the morning.
"Yeah, I should go back to sleep," Harry replied as he laid back down, shrugging Dick's hand on his back off him in the process. It was nice of both of them to be polite when Harry woke them up at an ungodly hour in the morning,
Wayne put a hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezed it briefly before making his way out of the room. "We will talk more about this tomorrow, Harry. I promise. But, for now, you should get some more sleep."
Harry felt Dick run a hand through his hair before making his way back over to his own bed. Dick tossed and turned for a few moments to get settled. Harry suddenly felt very tired again and pressed his head more firmly into the pillow.
"Goodnight, Harry."
Harry wasn't completely sure if he responded or not before sleep took him again.
