Chapter 9: Scabbers
The chapel stood atop a hill overlooking a nearby village. A thick wall of brambles and dead trees surrounded the graveyard beside it. The building itself was run-down and had missing windows through which the freezing night wind howled. Harry held his camouflaged jacket close, but it did little against the cold. Hermione was beside him, though from his perspective she was just a subtle shape against the twigs that occasionally emitted little puffs of mist.
According to the map, Jugson was walking between four other people, possibly explaining his wares and answering questions. There was no magical protection around the chapel, and indeed, it would be almost impossible for a random Ministry worker to stumble across such a meeting. The only reason Malfoy knew about it was because he had one of Jugson's clients in his pocket.
Harry and Hermione rose to a low crouch and moved forwards. The wind was so loud that they didn't have to worry about their footsteps. Light flickered from one of the broken windows, and as they drew closer, shadows began to play across the frame.
They pressed against the outer wall of the chapel, listening intently.
"The finest, I assure you!" said a pompous voice.
"Your 'finest' nearly blew up in my face two months ago. I want a guarantee, Jugson," growled another man.
"Then you shall have one! I personally vouch for the authenticity of my potions, after all, if I couldn't be trusted to make them right, why would anyone keep buying from me?" Jugson sounded like a con-man if Harry had ever heard one.
The customers continued to argue and Harry readied his wand. How should we do this?
We don't know enough about the clients to sentence them to death, replied Hermione. Unfortunately, shock-and-awe might not be the best idea.
Wait, I'll do this. Harry slowly poked his head over the windowsill and looked inside the chapel. There were two large tables in the centre of the room holding all manner of foul-looking potions. Three men silently browsed the selection, while the fourth continued to argue with Jugson.
"Malfunctions can be caused by the tiniest things, sir, even the tiniest contaminant may have caused the issues you experienced," said the Death Eater with a smile. His face was narrow and he had a very toothy grin. His blonde hair was matted to his skull with grease.
"I didn't let anything contaminate it! I kept the stopper on until the moment I needed it!"
Harry very slowly extended his wand through the window, pointing across the room at Jugson.
"Ah, well, there is such a thing as letting a potion breathe, I daresay that may have been the cause of your distress."
"My distress? My bloody wife was laughing at me like a circus freak!"
Harry breathed deeply to steady his hand. Reducto.
Jugson's entire upper half burst in a star-shaped explosion that sent tiny pieces of him splattering across the entire interior of the church. The other men roared in surprised, stumbling back and slipping on the suddenly wet floor. Jugson's legs flopped to the ground.
Harry withdrew before the blood could reach him, and Hermione's hand suddenly gripped his shoulder.
In a moment, they were crouching in the Hollow.
"That was… effective," admitted Hermione.
Harry smiled grimly. "Sometimes the best solution is the simplest." He exchanged the chapel map for Yaxley's house. "No sense waiting when there's work to be done. One down."
Outside Yaxley's tall, foreboding home, Harry began delving immediately, barely noticing when Hermione refreshed their Disillusionment Charms. His blood was running hot after Jugson, and he was eager to charge in and take Yaxley down. It was only the memory of what happened last time he was so reckless that kept him from cutting the delving short.
After a couple of minutes, he had pushed his delving right up against the house. There were a couple of protective spells on the walls themselves, very subtle detection ones that would alert Yaxley if anyone attempted to break through them. Harry and Hermione could get around them, but it would take more time than they were willing to spend.
The Yaxley family had clearly been a bit more cautious than the Malfoys, most likely because they weren't as powerful and might still be targeted by ambitious thieves. As far as Harry knew, the only family that matched the Malfoys was the Lestranges, and they were out of the picture too.
Hermione took some calming breaths before breaking through the protective spells with brute force. Yaxley would have definitely felt it. They bolted for the front door, wands out and ready. Harry flicked his to the left, conjuring a set of knives that spun away into the darkness, curving around the building. A moment later, he heard some windows smash as the knives impacted the house, hopefully distracting Yaxley.
As they got close to the door, Harry looked up at one of the second floor windows and noticed a gargoyle looking down at the yard. Go in the front and get the house elf to safety, he thought, hoping Hermione was listening, before whipping his wand at the gargoyle. Carpe Retractum! A rope of golden light connected his wand to the gargoyle, and a second later he was yanked into the air towards the window. Silencio, Reducto!
The window and surrounding wall silently exploded inwards, and Harry followed half a second later, landing amidst the dust and rubble and skidding to a halt. The hallway was dark, but he could see intricately carved tables and bookshelves lining the walls, along with a tapestry that flowed from room to room.
Harry silenced his footsteps and ran down the hall. He checked the map, spotting Yaxley's dot in the living room above a bedroom on Harry's floor. Harry ducked into the bedroom in question and pointed his wand at the roof. "Torrens Ignitus!" he muttered forcefully. This particular spell had been a result of their research on the firestorms. It had been a dead end, but he'd always wanted to find a use for it. Like many of the older spells, the nonverbal version didn't pack as much punch, and Harry was in no mood for fooling around.
Cracks shot across the roof like spider webs, and from within them came a deep, red heat. Harry ducked out of the room and made for the nearest stairwell. The crunching sound of Yaxley's top-floor living room collapsing into a blindingly hot pool of lava reverberated through the house, making Harry trip over as he reached the highest floor.
A curse raked the side of the corridor, shredding part of the tapestry. Harry looked up to see Yaxley in his evening clothes, hard face contorted in fury. He must have only just gotten out of the living room in time. "You came for Malfoy and now you want me, do you?" he roared, sending another curse that forced Harry to dive behind a polished cabinet. "I won't go down like that milksop, fool!"
The cabinet was thrown aside, but Harry was on his feet again and blocked the next curse with a shield. Yaxley moved quickly for a man his age, ducking under his rebounding curse and sending a Killing Curse down the corridor. The shield shattered, but Harry was no longer behind it, having slipped into a room on the left. With Yaxley's approximate position on the other side of the wall in his mind, Harry slashed his wand horizontally. The Cutting Charm ripped through the wall and the shattering of glass confirmed it had broken the outer wall as well.
Harry finally noticed the room he was in – a trophy room with old suits of armour and ornate shelves full of rare artefacts and the heads of strange creatures. Yaxley staggered into the room, tiny shards of glass sticking out of his face. "We know what you're doing! Malfoy, Nott, Gibbon, Rowle!" The Death Eater jerked his wand at a suit of armour and it flew towards Harry, sword outstretched.
Harry turned it to ragged shrapnel before it could reach him. Oppugno! The pieces of metal shot back towards Yaxley. Before they could sink into his skull, they were diverted into the wall with a series of thunks. "You're a short one, aren't you? Disillusionment doesn't work so well while running around, you little ant!" Yaxley growled, shooting a jet of colourless fire from the end of his wand and bathing the room in eerie black-and-white.
Defodio, Locomotor Lignum! Harry raised his wand in a vertical arc, and a section of the wooden floor in front of him ruptured and rose to block the flames. There was a loud bang from somewhere lower in the house.
"So there's more of you, is there?" Yaxley called from around the mass of splintered, flaming wood hovering in the centre of the room. "We'll find you! No matter how many of you there are, we know what to look for now!"
"Torrens Ignitus!" Harry hissed, and the spaces within the makeshift barrier glowed like hot iron as lava filled them. Reducto! The shards of wood soaked in lava exploded towards Yaxley, ripping through the weakened walls until the blackened horizon was visible. Cursing, Harry checked the map. Yaxley's dot was gone, as was the house-elf's. Hermione was unmoving in the basement.
Harry Apparated to the front door and followed the path she would have taken to get to the elf. Hermione was lying on the ground in the middle of the basement beside a cupboard. He could only see her by checking the map, she was so still. He picked her up and Apparated back to the Hollow.
After setting Hermione down on the floor, Harry enervated her and watched worriedly as she regained awareness.
"Harry?" she mumbled.
"I'm here. I just got you out of Yaxley's basement." Harry suddenly felt a searing spike of heat on his shoulder. A tiny, stray chip of wood with a drop of lava on it had caught on his jacket and burned through to his shoulder. He ripped off his clothes hurriedly as the pain sharpened. Their Disillusionment Charms were dispelled by Hermione as she sat up and noticed the problem.
"Come here, quickly!" she said.
Harry gritted his teeth and dropped to his knees beside her. Tears of pain spilled from his eyes as he watched the flesh on his shoulder warp and burn. Hermione's healing spells took the pain first, and he sucked in great mouthfuls of air in relief. The bit of wood and lava were banished instantly, but it was some time before Hermione removed her wand with a sigh.
"It's not as bad as it first looked. The lava didn't have time to melt past your skin. But, well, it is lava, and there was some muscular damage from the intense heat nonetheless. I've regrown the bit of muscle that was ruined, but it's going to be quite tender for a while," she said.
Harry inspected the mass of blisters and found that they reached as far as his elbow, neck, and chest. "I got careless near the end. It's easy to forget how dangerous lava is when you can make it out of nothing," he admitted quietly. "Are these blisters permanent?"
Hermione shook her head. "No, I can remove those. They were just from the radiant heat, not the lava itself. We don't have any dittany though, so that scar on your shoulder will be there forever. What happened back there, Harry?"
"Yaxley was expecting an attack. How did you get stunned?"
"I went down to stun the house-elf and Apparate her outside just in case you brought the house down, but then the whole building was rocked by an explosion or something – was that you? It threw my aim off at the last second and my stunner missed. You know how powerful elf magic can be; before I could do anything else I was knocked out."
"It was me. I went to the room below Yaxley's living room – the place he was relaxing – and turned the roof to lava. I'd hoped it would catch him completely by surprise, even with the boundary spells alerting him. He managed to survive and we duelled for a bit until we heard something downstairs. He figured there were more of us and might have Disapparated. I'm not sure if I got him in time."
"We can't assume that you did." Hermione rubbed her temples. "That went terribly. I can't believe I let myself get stunned by a house-elf."
"You said it yourself, elf magic is powerful." Harry shook his head angrily. "We can't go after the Carrows now. If Yaxley escaped, he's probably warned any other Death Eaters he was in contact with. Damn it, they know! He was shouting about Malfoy, Nott, Gibbon, and Rowle. We should have realised they'd put two and two together."
"They were bound to catch on eventually. We just underestimated the amount of information that flowed between them."
"What was the loud bang that distracted Yaxley?" Harry asked as Hermione got to work on his blisters.
"It must have been the house-elf Disapparating – come to think of it, I remember noticing a small filing cabinet in the basement that looked very out of place…"
"Yaxley must have told the elf to take the cabinet with him in the event of an intruder, just in case he himself was killed or incapacitated. Taking the cabinet would have made more noise than just a simple Apparition."
Hermione gasped. "Of course! It must have been full of Yaxley's own dirty ledgers – possibly even the locations of more Death Eaters." She lowered her wand from Harry's blister-free torso. There was a twisted white scar where the lava had touched him directly. "We went into this completely blind. I should have considered the possibility that they would catch on to our goals."
"Maybe, but I'm the one who failed to bring down Yaxley. I had him in a duel! There should have been no contest."
"It's been over a year since you've had a real duel, Harry. You were bound to be a little rusty. And Yaxley did manage to draw with Professor Flitwick once, too, so he's not exactly a pushover." She held up a finger. "And you likely would have killed him with that last spell if he hadn't decided to retreat at that moment. We just need to accept that we were under-prepared and didn't adapt to the situation effectively."
Harry sighed. "Shock-and-awe. I was foolish to try something like that. I just… I wanted to engage rather than keep sneaking around."
"I'm as much to blame as you are, Harry. I let your impatience bleed into my own mind when I should have remained rational."
"I didn't realise that could happen," Harry said softly. "I thought you just read my thoughts and memories." Hermione was suddenly quiet. "You can feel what I feel?"
"Well… in a way, yes. Remember when you fought Quirrell? I told you I felt your pain."
"Yeah, but I thought you just meant empathy or seeing painful thoughts, not feeling the pain itself."
"It doesn't matter. Don't turn this into a big deal. It's over, and now we have to deal with the consequences."
Harry flexed his left arm, wincing at the tenderness. "We'll have to cease operations for now. I'll keep my schedule going until Ron's owl arrives, but you might as well stay home at night."
Hermione nodded mutely as she repaired his shirt and jacket and helped him dress. "I'm going to take the diary and keep it in my trunk," she said, surprising Harry.
"Er, why? Isn't it safer here?"
"Yes, but I need it for something. When we go to Diagon Alley, I'll explain it in more detail."
"You're not going to give it to Ginny, are you? If you're going to try and recreate the events from our second year –"
"I'm not," she said hurriedly. "Definitely not. I just have some concerns about how certain things are going to play out this year, so I'm making preparations."
"I'd like to know a bit more beforehand," Harry said warningly.
Hermione smiled and patted his cheek. "I'll see you at the Burrow in a couple of days. I hope you like your birthday present." She Disapparated without disturbing the air.
On his birthday morning, after trudging back to the Dursley's following a night spent at the Hollow, Harry found three impatient owls waiting on his window sill. They were being very quiet, fortunately, so Vernon hadn't been woken up in a rage. Harry recognised the Weasley's Errol and Neville's grandmother's eagle-owl, and decided the third and fourth owls were public-use ones that Hermione and Hagrid had hired.
All three of them had envelopes and packages that Harry took great pleasure in opening. Hagrid and Ron had sent cakes, one of which was decidedly boulder-like in nature, as well as short letters wishing him a happy birthday. Ron's letter included a notification that his father would be collecting Harry from Privet Drive the following morning. Apparently, Hermione had been in contact with the Weasleys, explaining how Floo powder might frighten the Dursleys and how simple Apparition would be much simpler. She'd sent them street maps with directions and a postcard of a heritage-listed building a few blocks away so that Mr Weasley would have something to focus on when Apparating. Harry was concerned about the man's ability to navigate with a Muggle map, but had faith it would work itself out somehow.
Neville's letter was next. It was on fine parchment like last time, so he was probably using his gran's stationery. Once again, it was formally addressed to Harry Potter, Co-Chief Watcher of the Stone.
Harry,
I would've used a normal owl and parchment, but once gran realised who I was writing to, she insisted that I use this stuff.
Thanks for what you said about my parents being heroes. I think yours are too. I still don't like talking about it much, but thanks for your offer to listen.
You're right about Ron and the wands. I guess the three of us will have to go to Ollivander's soon.
By the way, my gran found out about the rings and everything that happened with the Stone. I think she knew something big had happened at school and the official story from Dumbledore only covered half of it, so she started pressuring me until I told her. I thought she would take the ring away and go nuts at me for knowingly getting into trouble, but she looked prouder than I'd ever seen her. She told me I did my parents proud and that I should stand by you whatever it takes. It was mental (in a good way).
Anyway sorry for talking about myself when it's your birthday. Mine was the day before yours, so I guess we kinda share that too. I'll give you your present in person once we're at the Burrow, I was worried your uncle might confiscate any packages you get. Don't worry about getting a present for me, I know you can't do much while you're stuck there.
See you soon,
Neville Longbottom
Watcher of the Stone
Harry smiled as he put down the letter. Augusta Longbottom's reaction was unexpected, but promising. The extra support she was giving Neville would make him more confident, eliminating many of the shortcomings he'd suffered from the first time. Harry had the distinct feeling Neville's grades were going to improve throughout the year.
Hermione's package was last, and contained a thin, black leotard. "You must be joking," he said under his breath. A little note was bundled with the skin-tight fabric that said 'For Dancing~'. There was a cheeky swirl at the end that told him she knew very well what his reaction would be. He stuffed it in his trunk, far below his school books.
Her actual letter was very short since they saw each other so regularly, there wasn't much they could catch up on. Harry read a few lines before hastily adding it to his collection of letters, his cheeks burning. It was clearly part of the same ruse Hermione was using on her notebooks, where one layer of subtle protection charms hid a vapid, girly diary full of fluff, which in turn concealed a second layer of charms that hid the real, coded notes.
Suddenly curious, Harry pulled the letter out again and drew his wand. After a few minutes of delving, he found a little pocket of magical protection and broke through it. The sickening lovey-dovey writing and love hearts were suddenly replaced by a single, much more modest line.
If you're reading this, then you've been paying attention and are entitled to redeem this note for one (1) smooch at midnight on your birthday.
Harry chuckled and carefully tucked the letter away. He fully intended to redeem it.
While it was still early, he decided to do a little work. He tossed some owl snacks to the hungry messengers and pulled his invisibility cloak on. Disillusionment wouldn't be enough for this one.
He Apparated north to a town bordered by a slow river. It was from a dim memory of the Horcrux hunt, so he was certain there was nothing linking him to this place.
On the main road, he found a supermarket and slipped inside. A couple of early workers were stacking shelves and setting up promotions, but he stayed out of their way.
Now, let's see… I've been 'working' for four or five weeks, and I told the Dursleys I get paid three pounds a night. They haven't questioned the fact that the man I work for apparently never has days off, so I need to include weekends. That means I've earned one-hundred and five pounds this month.
Harry double-checked his calculations before silently opening a register with a tap of his wand. It was empty. The cashiers hadn't arrived to stock them yet. He closed the register and snuck over to the staff area.
In one of the offices, a large safe sat against the wall. There was nobody around, so he opened it up. Happily, he found several neat stacks of bills and bags of coins sitting there. He hesitated. If I get paid by the night, I should have a lot of coins. But that's inconvenient. I'll say that he gives me the money once a week, which means every week I'd get twenty-one pounds, and I'll need around five lots. Harry felt a weird, uncomfortable déjà vu that brought to mind very distant memories of Muggle school before Hogwarts. It struck him how little he'd had to use maths in the wizarding world.
With the money tucked away, Harry closed and locked the safe before Disapparating back to his bedroom.
Just as he arrived, someone pounded on the door. "Get up, boy!" growled Uncle Vernon. "No sleeping in today, you little ingrate!"
Harry sighed and put his cloak away. The money was still in his pockets as he went downstairs and started frying some bacon. Vernon snorted loudly as he read the paper, muttering a running commentary on every article his beady eyes focused on.
Petunia came down soon after, ordering Harry to butter some toast for her. Dudley, of course, was allowed to sleep in as long as he wanted. After breakfast, just before Vernon left for work, and as Petunia was skimming the gossip columns, Harry approached the table and dumped the money in front of them.
They both looked too shocked to form a response, so he pushed onwards. "This is every cent I've earned since I started working," said Harry, watching their eyes count the money. "You always call me a freeloader, so here's my contribution to the house." With that, Harry cleared the table and started doing the dishes.
"Good," said Uncle Vernon gruffly, but no amount of gruffness could disguise his surprise. "About time you started paying us back."
He soon left for work, and by the time Harry was finished cleaning, the money had vanished. Petunia must have been too off-guard to remember to force him to do more chores, so Harry was able to escape to his room before Dudley woke up.
The rest of the day passed rather peacefully. Dudley ended up going to a friend's house, and Petunia went shopping for a few hours, so Harry was able to have a nice lunch and relax on the couch until he heard her return.
In the evening, after dinner, Harry joined the Dursleys on the couch. He hadn't done so since he got his 'job', and he could tell the Dursleys had noticed the abnormality. During an advertisement break, Harry took a deep breath.
"A friend of mine sent me a letter. He's invited me to spend the rest of the holidays with his family. His dad will be here sometime tomorrow to pick me up," he said.
"That's what the money was about then, was it?" snapped Vernon. "Buttering us up so we'll let one of those other freaks come here, huh?"
"No. I could have kept the money, and I'd still get picked up tomorrow," Harry replied evenly.
"You're not going anywhere without our say-so, understand?"
"Why on earth would you want me to stay here for another month? Today, I gave you a hundred pounds and offered to disappear for an entire year. I thought this would be like an early Christmas for you."
Vernon's mouth worked soundlessly. Talking back was one thing, but talking back with logic seemed a bit too much for him to handle.
Petunia stepped in. "How is this person going to pick you up?" she asked warily.
"He's going to come to the door, I'll bring my trunk down, and then we'll walk away and you won't hear from either of us for a year."
Harry could see the gears churning in their minds. Dudley was staring at the television, but Harry had the distinct feeling he was listening raptly.
"No noise. No weird things. When he gets here, you leave with him within the minute, alright?" said Vernon in a low voice.
"Yes, Uncle Vernon," said Harry.
After that, he retired to his bedroom feeling pretty satisfied. He let Hedwig out for some night-time hunting and silenced his room before Apparating to the Hollow.
"It's not midnight yet," teased Hermione, standing up from her desk. She was wearing a black leotard like the one she bought Harry. "And you're not even dressed for the occasion."
Harry shook his head, moving to kiss her, but she slipped away. "Come on, I'm not wearing that," he complained.
"You'll like it, trust me. The freedom of movement makes dancing so much more fun."
"Hermione, it's a leotard. Not even male dancing tights, an actual leotard!"
"At this age, it doesn't make much of a difference. You have to wear it, Harry. It's part of the deal."
"It wasn't written on your letter."
"Wasn't it?"
Harry glared at her and Apparated back to his bedroom. After pulling her letter out (being a lot rougher than he had been before) he delved strongly into it. It was still painstaking, but beneath the shattered first layer of disguise, there was another. He broke through and watched more words appear before his eyes.
And if you're reading this, you're being very diligent and are entitled to a second smooch. Both offers become null and void if you do not wear your birthday present.
Back at the Hollow, he crumpled the paper and threw it at a giggling Hermione before he got changed.
Much to his irritation, his movements became smoother and more precise under the tight-fitting fabric, and he was eventually forced to admit that dancing was far easier this way.
They were panting when they finally stopped and dropped into their chairs, and Harry wiped sweat from his forehead. "A birthday dance is one thing," he said, sucking in air, "But if you think I'm going to wear this at Hogwarts where anyone can see me, you're out of your mind."
Hermione laughed, though it turned into a yawn midway. "I think it's midnight," she said casually.
Harry walked over to her on sore legs and bent down to peck her lips. She rose to meet him, and then some. When he felt her mouth open and her tongue brush against his lips, he hurriedly pulled away.
"Hm?" she looked at him questioningly.
"Er, let's not forget how old these bodies are. We shouldn't act too mature in that regard, even in private."
Hermione sighed, but she was smirking. "Very well. In your professional opinion, what age do you have to be in order for snogging to appropriate?"
"I don't know," said Harry, well aware he was being mocked, "But it definitely isn't twelve."
"I'll be thirteen in two months." Her eyes twinkled with mirth.
"It isn't thirteen either!" Harry growled. "I don't know what the appropriate age is! How old were you when you had your first kiss?"
"Fifteen."
"Krum, right?" She nodded. "Well I was sixteen when I kissed Cho. I think we should wait until at least fifteen before we start snogging constantly." He folded his arms resolutely.
Rather than act indignant as he expected, Hermione chuckled. "A hundred pounds says you'll change your mind by the end of the year."
"You don't have a hundred pounds," Harry countered.
"Neither did you. There are a lot of supermarkets in this country."
"Fine. I'll take that bet. But I'm telling you, it's not going to happen until we're fifteen."
"And I'm telling you to relax, Harry. Nobody is going to figure out our master plan by watching us snog."
"That's not what I was implying. It just feels wrong to act like adults while we're still in young bodies."
"That's a bit hypocritical." Hermione lifted her chin in a very know-it-all way. "You have no problem killing people in your young body, but when it comes to something as innocent as a make-out session, it feels 'wrong'. That would imply that careful, calculated homicide is somehow morally superior to kissing me."
Harry shut his mouth before he could say anything else. She had a point, and worse, it was a point that he shouldn't have needed to have spelled out for him. "Thank you for the dance," he said, smothering his irritation.
"You're welcome."
"I'll see you at the Burrow." If Mr Weasley actually finds me.
Mr Weasley didn't arrive until the afternoon. His balding hair was a little windswept, but he looked delighted by his adventure in the streets. Harry had his trunk and Hedwig's cage ready and spared no more than half a second to inform the Dursleys that he was leaving. Mr Weasley was eager to meet them, but Harry managed to talk him out of it, making up some infectious disease they had.
"You're looking fit and proper, Harry my boy!" Mr Weasley said cheerfully as they walked down the street. A neighbour who was trimming her rose bush watched them go past with narrowed eyes. "A bit skinny, but Molly will fix that up quickly. I must say, it was a big surprise to see you a few weeks ago. Wherever did you find a fireplace connected to the Floo network around here?"
Harry bit his tongue. He should have been more prepared for such a question. "I deduced that my neighbour, Mrs Figg, was a friend of Dumbledore's, and would likely have a working fireplace so she can send quick messages." Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "It seemed a bit unlikely that Dumbledore would just leave me alone in Privet Drive considering the danger I was in from Voldemort's followers. Granted, I wouldn't exactly call Mrs Figg a protector, but then I suspect Dumbledore also placed other protections on this place."
Mr Weasley was giving him a curious look. "I see Ron wasn't kidding when he said you were sharp." Suddenly he laughed. "But this does explain why Ron's been studying so hard in the holidays. He must be trying to keep up."
"Ron's been studying?" That was unexpected. Ron had cared very little about schoolwork the first time around.
"Yep, ever since the incident with the rings."
"Do you know what he's studying?"
"A book from the nearest wizarding library. First time in his life he'd ever asked us to take him there."
"Can you remember the title of the book?" Harry pressed patiently. Hermione would be interested in this deviation.
Mr Weasley thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Afraid not. I haven't had a lot of time to ask him about it, what with work being so hectic lately." They reached the park a few blocks from the Dursleys. "Er," said Mr Weasley, looking around, "This isn't the way I came. I suppose it doesn't matter, we just need a little nook we can duck into so I can Apparate us back to the Burrow."
"Oh, there's an alley nearby," said Harry, and he lead Mr Weasley over to the same place he left for 'work' every night. "Will this do?"
"Perfect!" Mr Weasley clapped his hands together. "Now, I don't believe you've ever Apparated before, have you?"
"No, I haven't," Harry lied.
"Well, it can be a bit rough on your first time. I'd have much preferred to come get you through the fireplace – I have a friend at the Ministry who could have helped us out – but that girlfriend of yours was very insistent in her letters. I'm sure I could've just explained everything to your aunt and uncle… but oh well. Now, grab my arm tightly and don't let go. Better use both hands." Harry did as instructed, pretending to brace himself. "Right – here we go!"
A moment later, they stood on the path leading up to the Burrow, sans Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage. "How are you feeling, Harry?" asked Mr Weasley. "It's not very pleasant, is it? That's why most people prefer Floo powder."
"I'm fine," said Harry, refusing a bucket that Mr Weasley conjured. "Where is my trunk? And Hedwig?"
"I've already sent them up to Ron's room. You'll be sharing with him, it's just below the attic."
"Thanks for coming to get me, Mr Weasley." Harry smiled as they approached the towering mismatched house.
"Not a problem, Harry. The other kids are all here, you're the last to arrive." He chuckled. "Molly's beside herself at the thought of feeding three more mouths. All of you are far too thin in her eyes."
Inside the Burrow, there was plenty of laughing and muffled thumps coming from upstairs, while Mrs Weasley clanked around in the kitchen and talked loudly with someone.
"But Mum, I can't share with her!" squeaked Ginny. "She's going out with Harry! Fred and George will probably tell her that I have a crush on him, and then she'll tease me!"
"We've both spoken to Hermione, dear, and I don't believe she's the type to tease anyone about anything," Mrs Weasley replied patiently. "Honestly, you've spent the last month skipping around the house excitedly, waiting for him to get here. Now the day has come, and you're complaining about sharing your room!" There was a loud clang as Mrs Weasley deposited something on the counter, probably a large pot.
Mr Weasley pushed past Harry and gave him a wink before entering the kitchen. "We're back! Took a little longer to find the place, but I got to ask a Muggle Auror for directions! He seemed a bit put off when I asked him what that big stick on his belt was for, though."
"I think they're called policemen, dear," replied Mrs Weasley.
Harry strode into the kitchen just in time to see a red blur leave through the other doorway. "Er, hello Mrs Weasley," he said, listening to Ginny's loud footsteps on the stairs.
"Harry! Oh, I've been hoping for a chance to fatten you up a bit – look at you, you're skin and bones!"
"He's got a strong stomach, so that can't be why," said Mr Weasley. "First time Apparating and he didn't even blink!"
Harry grinned modestly. "Thanks for letting me come here. Are Neville and Hermione here already?"
"It's no bother at all, dear, and yes they are. You can go up to say hello if you like, and I'll bring some snacks up soon." Mrs Weasley was practically glowing as she moved about the kitchen. It seemed taking care of children was practically a passion with her, and it showed. Harry supposed that considering how many Weasleys there were, that was a bit obvious.
Harry climbed the stairs quickly enough to spot an alarmed Ginny as she dove inside her room and closed the door, having probably eavesdropped on the conversation. Her shyness was going to be a problem if they wanted to bring her into the advanced class this year. Harry was hesitant about it since she was only a first year and had no experience yet. Granted, Ron and Neville had done remarkably well, but they'd had motivation and one-on-one instruction from him and Hermione. It was hard to not improve under those conditions.
"Are you just gonna stand there all day?" said Ron from further up the stairs. Neville and Hermione were behind him, grinning.
"It was just – your sister, she…" Harry didn't bother going on, happy as he was to see his friends.
"Oh yeah, that's just Ginny. She's got a big crush on you," Ron added casually, waving Harry up. There was a muffled shriek from Ginny's room.
"Oh. That's nice," replied Harry. He raced up the stairs and followed the others into Ron's room at the top, where he was immediately slam-hugged by Hermione.
"It's good to see you!" she said happily, kissing his cheek. "I'm sorry I couldn't stay to chat a few weeks ago, I didn't want my parents to notice my absence."
"It's fine," Harry laughed. Scabbers tonight, he thought.
Too fast, Hermione replied. We should at least wait a couple of days before –
Tonight, he thought firmly.
Someone coughed, and Harry realised they'd been staring at each other for too long. "Hey guys," he said awkwardly. Neville and Ron were grinning at him, probably enjoying his discomfort. "Er, where's everyone sleeping?"
"I'm sharing with Ginny," said Hermione.
"You and Neville are sharing with me," said Ron, shrugging uncomfortably. "It'll be a bit squished, but…"
"Anything's better than the Dursleys, trust me." Harry looked around at his trunk and the Chudley Cannons posters, covertly spotting Scabbers in a cage on Ron's desk. The little rat was chewing on something while watching the visitors. Harry wondered what the bastard was thinking.
Not a lot, came Hermione's voice. He mainly wants to get more food. When you entered the room, he vaguely remembered selling out your parents to Voldemort and faking his death, but it was with a sense of satisfaction about how things had turned out. I think he actually likes living as a rat.
Harry fought to keep his disgust from showing on his face. "Apparating here with your dad felt really weird," he said instead.
"You Apparated?" said Neville excitedly. "What was it like?"
"Let's just say I can see why most people use Floo powder."
"Oh yeah, I've got your birthday present, Harry." Neville tossed a floppy package over and Harry tore it open. "Duelling bracers. You strap them on your forearm, so you can wear them even at school," explained Neville. "There's a little sheath for your wand that makes it slide into your hand when you need it."
"This is brilliant, Neville!" Harry exclaimed as inspected the bracers. They looked to be some sort of hard leather made from an unknown creature's skin. There was a little carving around the edges, but most of it was smooth. He strapped them on and slid his wand into the sheath. As soon as he thought about drawing it again, his wand shot straight into his hand. "I hope it didn't cost too much."
"It's a gift, Harry, just enjoy it," sniffed Hermione.
"What did you get him?" asked Ron.
She blushed. "So what Quidditch team is that, Ron?" she said quickly.
The rest of the evening was spent mucking around in Ron's room and outside while scoffing down snacks provided by Mrs Weasley. Harry was able to lose himself in the fun for a time, but when dinner arrived, he was back to thinking of ways to reveal Pettigrew. It was a shame to not be able to relax and enjoy seeing his mates again, but Sirius was sitting in a cell at that very moment, somehow summoning the strength to remain sane in the hopes of getting revenge on Pettigrew. Harry couldn't let him down.
The dinner table was a ruckus of noise and overlapping conversations, and Harry was pleased to see Hermione trying to befriend Ginny, even if it wasn't going very well.
"I love your hair. I think you'll look very striking when you're an adult," said Hermione kindly.
"It's too straight," Ginny mumbled, picking at her food and looking everywhere but across the table at Harry.
"Really? I wish mine was more like yours."
Ginny didn't reply, sinking slightly in her chair. Hermione caught Harry's eye and shrugged helplessly.
At the other end of the table, Mr Weasley was talking to Mrs Weasley and Percy about Ministry work, and Harry couldn't help but listen in.
"Yorkson couldn't tell me much, of course, but he let slip that Yaxley won't meet with anyone in person and is staying at a different place every night. Whatever really happened, he's spooked," said Mr Weasley in a low voice.
"From what you've told me about him, I find that hard to believe," said Mrs Weasley worriedly.
Percy was listening with rapturous attention. "Are the Aurors making any progress?" he asked.
Mr Weasley shook his head. "The whole department is being even more tight-lipped than usual, so I would guess the investigation isn't going well. If they had any leads or suspects, they'd want everyone to know. With so many of the old families involved, they'll be under a lot of pressure to get results."
"It's strange to think Malfoy won't ever trouble us again."
Harry pretended to choke a little on some broccoli. "Sorry, did you say Malfoy?" he asked down the table.
"Oh yes, you wouldn't have heard." Mr Weasley looked quite unsure as to how to deliver the news. "You remember Lucius Malfoy?" Harry nodded. "Well… he was found dead in his manor a few weeks ago, along with another man like him."
"Oh." Harry frowned. "Uh, I can't say I ever liked the man, but I suppose that's sad for his family." He grimaced and picked up his glass of water. "Maybe I'd best not say anything at all."
Mr Weasley nodded in understanding. "I said the same when I heard. Best not to speak ill of the dead."
"Harry, Dad," Ron said suddenly, turning away from a discussion with Neville and the twins. "Are eagle-owls part eagle, or just a different breed? Fred and George think they're eagles that have been transfigured into owls, but Neville's gran has one and he says differently."
"They're a breed of owl," Mr Weasley said patiently. "Otherwise we would have transfigured Scabbers into an owl too. Can always use one more." Mrs Weasley sighed.
"We could still try it, Dad," said George hopefully.
"But then he'd have to break his eleven-year streak of uselessness," reminded Fred.
"Eleven years? Is he a magical rat?" Harry asked dubiously, pouncing on the opportunity.
"Nah, just lucky I 'spose." Ron gnawed on a chicken bone.
"That is very unlikely," Hermione said with a frown, having given up on talking to Ginny. "There's a limit to how many times the cells of a living being can divide. If Scabbers isn't magical, then there must be something else about him that's making him live so long."
Harry winced internally. She was being a little too straightforward in his opinion. Ron and the Weasley parents were frowning at Hermione. "Cells?" asked Mr Weasley.
Hermione blushed. "It's a term used in Muggle science. But that's not important," she added before Mr Weasley could inquire further, "I'm just saying that Scabbers is extremely odd." She dug into some mashed potato, sheepish under the family's gaze.
Oh, what the hell. "Hm," Harry said thoughtfully before the conversation could pick up again, "Hermione, when Professor McGonagall turns into a cat, does she have the same life expectancy as a real one?"
"No, I don't think it works that way. She could live to be an eighty-year-old cat if she wanted to."
The table was quiet now as everyone was listening. Harry hoped Wormtail couldn't hear them all the way from Ron's room. "So if a person could change into a rat…" Harry said slowly, putting his knife and fork down.
"…They could live far longer than their biology would normally allow," finished Hermione.
"What are you saying?" laughed Ron, though it sounded a bit forced. "You think Scabbers is some nutter who can turn into a rat?"
"Do you have a better explanation as to how a common brown rat lived four times longer than it should have?" Harry asked.
"He's just lucky," Ron mumbled.
"Harry," said Mr Weasley, and Harry was pleased to note he sounded serious. "This is a little unbelievable, I have to say. You're not really saying you think the family rat has been an Animagus this whole time?"
Harry shrugged. "If you eliminate the impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."
Oh, good one, Harry, Hermione whispered in his head. He fought the urge to grin at her. During the first six months of Auror training, long ago, Hermione had sent him some classic Muggle books for his birthday. After weeks of exhausting mental fortitude training, they had been exactly what he needed.
Mr Weasley exchanged a look with his wife. "Still…" he said.
"There must be a simple way to check," said Hermione. "We can just go upstairs, find out, and if we're wrong we'll all be laughing about it over dessert. But if we're right… wouldn't you want to know for sure, just in case?"
After a long pause, Mr Weasley nodded slowly. "I suppose it can't hurt. I really don't think anything will happen, but if it makes you both feel better…" He stood up, and Harry followed suit.
Ron was the next to stand. "You're not going to hurt him, are you?" he asked fretfully.
Mr Weasley shook his head. "If I'm right, it probably won't even wake him up. If Harry's right…" He left the rest unsaid as he made for the stairs, Harry right behind him. Unsurprisingly, the entire Weasley family, plus Neville and Hermione, rushed after them. The speculation had tickled everyone's curiosity, it seemed, or perhaps they just wanted to see the little creature paid back for years of chewed shoes and pranks.
In Ron's room, Harry subtly used his new bracer to draw his wand almost imperceptibly while the family's attention was on Scabbers' cage. Only Ginny noticed him, and she hid behind Mrs Weasley when he met her eyes. Mr Weasley slowly approached the cage, wand drawn and raised. He muttered something, and all hell broke loose.
The cage exploded as Scabbers suddenly grew into a short, balding man in tattered clothes. Mrs Weasley shrieked and leapt backwards, falling into Fred, George, and Ginny and sending them sprawling. Ron and Neville let out simultaneous shouts of surprise, while Hermione suddenly had her own wand in her hand.
Wormtail fell off the table where the cage used to be, looking wildly around at everyone, his beady eyes as wide as they could go and his broken lips drawn in fear. Mr Weasley stumbled back a few steps, his wand still outstretched.
"What – who are you?" he asked hoarsely. "What are you doing – you were a rat – who are you?!"
Wormtail lunged for Mr Weasley's wand, but was thrown backwards by the force of both Harry's and Hermione's stunners. The table broke from the abuse, and Wormtail lay unconscious amidst splintered wood. Around them, the Chudley Cannons continued to soar.
Harry strode past Mr Weasley, who was frozen in shock, and bent down to check Wormtail's pulse just in case. "He's alive."
"What the fuck," said Ron, his face white and his legs unsteady. Neville had an arm around his shoulder.
"Don't you dare use such inappropriate language, Ronald Weasley," Mrs Weasley said weakly, getting to her feet. Fred and George looked utterly gobsmacked and didn't say anything.
"I think, Molly," said Mr Weasley after taking a long, shuddering breath, "There will never be a more appropriate time for such language. Mercy…" He went over and examined Wormtail as well. "He was here… the whole time, he was right here…"
"Do you know him?" asked Harry.
"No, but I think I recognise him. I'm just not sure from where."
"Do you know anybody in Magical Law Enforcement? The sooner this man is in custody, the better."
Mr Weasley shook himself. "I… yes, I do. Molly, send a message to Kingsley." Mrs Weasley swept out of the room immediately.
"I let him sleep in my bed," choked Ron, now looking quite green. Mr Weasley's face hardened.
"Ginny, Fred, George, Percy, go downstairs with Ron. Harry and Hermione, I want a word." Nobody talked back for once, and in a moment, there were only three conscious people in the room. "I admit I'm struggling to come to terms with this. Just the thought of this man living like part of our family for the past eleven years makes my skin crawl." He shivered. "But it might have been several years longer if it weren't for you two. As much as it sickens me, I'm glad we know."
"Um, we used stunners outside of school. Are we going to get anyone in trouble?" said Hermione.
"No, don't worry about that. The Trace – the thing that tells the Ministry when you use underage magic – doesn't get monitored when you're at a wizard residence. Since Molly and I use magic around the house all day, there's no way they could be sure it was you two who cast the stunners, short of checking your wands. But none of that is going to happen, trust me. Just don't get used to using magic outside of school." They nodded.
There were loud, fast footsteps on the stairs, followed by Kingsley Shacklebolt entering the room. He was under-dressed in only a shirt and pyjama pants, but his face was anything but humorous. Not a glimmer of shock crossed his eyes as he examined Wormtail. At last, he straightened and turned to Mr Weasley. "We will need to perform a more thorough identification at the Ministry, but I believe this is none other than Peter Pettigrew."
Mrs Weasley gasped from the doorway. "But he was murdered! All they found was a…" her voice trailed off as every eye in the room landed on Pettigrew's incomplete hand.
"I realise how disturbing this is for you, Arthur," said Kingsley, waving his wand and conjuring ropes that neatly slipped around Wormtail. "Rest assured, I will make it my personal priority to investigate just how Pettigrew came to be here."
"Thank you."
"Pettigrew?" said Hermione, furrowing her brow. "I think I read about that incident. Does this mean that the man who supposedly killed him…?"
Mr Weasley and Kingsley exchanged a long look. "You should both go down and join the others," said Mr Weasley. "We can talk about this in the morning."
Harry and Hermione went down to the living room, where the Weasley children were having a heated discussion.
"That filthy creep," spat Ron.
"Ought to have gotten a few kicks in while he was on the ground," Fred added angrily.
Shuddering, George jammed his eyes shut as though to avoid watching a memory. "All those times we threw Scabbers into the bath when Ginny was in there… bloody hell this is messed up."
"Harry!" exclaimed Neville as he noticed their arrival. "What happened? Was that an Auror who just went up there?"
"Yes, it was," answered Hermione. "He's arresting Peter Pettigrew as we speak."
"Peter Pettigrew? That sounds familiar," said Percy with a frown. "Wasn't he murdered?"
"Apparently not."
Something clicked in Percy's brain and he sat up straight, his eyes wide. "But that means… Sirius Black… Oh, the Daily Prophet is going to be in complete disarray when they find out."
"Care to explain what you're on about?" asked Fred.
"Yeah, most of us haven't memorised every murder since the seventeenth century," said George. It was a half-hearted jab at best; the boys were clearly still disturbed.
Percy explained what he remembered of the Sirius Black case, and Hermione filled in the details, often emphasising certain points, like how Sirius didn't get a trial.
"Blimey," said Ron in awe. "I had that creep Pettigrew in my bedroom every night, but this Sirius bloke has been stuck in Azkaban for no reason. Dad used to tell us stories about that place when we were little."
"He always had to wait until Mum went to bed," said George, "Because she thought they were too scary."
"Imagine being stuck in there with no support, all your friends thinking you're a crazy murderer…" Neville swallowed.
"Technically, this doesn't prove Black didn't kill those Muggles – it only proves he didn't kill Pettigrew," said Percy.
"But it's enough for a proper trial," said Harry. "With a Penseive, the rest will become clear."
They were quiet for a few minutes, during which Harry noticed Ginny's absence. "Someone should go explain this to Ginny. She's going to be confused enough as it is," he said.
Fred and George got up simultaneously. They looked uncharacteristically serious. "We'll go."
As they left, footsteps on the stairs told of people coming down. The remaining kids watched Mr Weasley appear first, looking graver than before, followed by the floating body of Wormtail, which attracted disgusted looks from all present, and lastly joined by Kingsley, who held his wand out as he descended.
Harry rose as they brought Wormtail over to the fireplace. Ron recoiled from the proximity, and Percy showed surprising tact by comforting his little brother with a hand on the shoulder. "Be very careful with him, please," said Harry. "If he escapes or is left with the wrong people, Sirius Black will never get a trial."
"Believe me, Mr Potter, I will be personally watching over this suspect. It is every Auror's worst nightmare to find we may have sent the wrong man to Azkaban," said Kingsley as Mrs Weasley came down and stood beside her husband.
"You kids should go to bed. It's been a long night already," Mr Weasley said firmly.
"Uh, Dad," said Ron, seemingly hesitant to say anything while his friends were nearby, "Can I sleep down here? Just for tonight?"
Mr Weasley's hard expression softened. "Of course. You all can, if you want." They all nodded except Percy, who got to his feet.
"I'll be just upstairs," he said quietly to Ron before leaving.
"I'll get some blankets for all of you," said Mrs Weasley, heading for the laundry.
Mr Weasley and Kingsley threw some Floo Powder into the fireplace and took Wormtail away. Harry was worried about where the little rat-faced man would end up, but surely with the material they had on Fudge and other Ministry officials, they'd be able to force them to do their jobs for once.
"Harry?" said Ron fifteen minutes later as the four kids shared blankets and pillows around the room. "Do you think you could maybe… grab my wand from my room?"
"Sure." Harry got up and climbed the stairs. As he passed Ginny's room, the door opened quietly and the twins came out, stepping softly. He could see the silhouette of Ginny's bed with a lump in the covers. "How is she?" he asked after they gently closed the door.
"She was in a bit of a state at first," said Fred grimly.
"And rightly so, at that," added George. "But we chatted with her a bit, told her a couple of jokes and so on until she fell asleep."
"We're thinking of pranking you and Hermione tomorrow so Ginny and Ron have something to laugh at."
Harry nodded. "Make it messy."
George slapped his back. "You're a good man, Harry." The twins went downstairs, while Harry continued up to Ron's room.
Ginny swung her legs over the side of her bed. Harry's voice had woken her from her doze, and now she couldn't feel less like sleeping. Everything that had occurred that night came back to her, but she no longer felt scared. Harry Potter was upstairs right now, and she finally had something to say to him.
She slipped out the door and quietly padded up to Ron's bedroom. Harry was standing near the repaired table holding Ron's wand. His expression was so distant that she momentarily lost the will to interrupt him.
His eyes met hers, and she jumped a little. There was no surprise on his face, just a raised eyebrow. "I thought you were asleep," he said quietly.
Ginny licked her lips, fighting the urge to bolt from the room. "You knew!" she blurted out a little too loudly, then clapped her hands over her mouth.
"I knew?" asked Harry, turning to face her properly. "Knew what?"
"That Scabbers… that man… you knew you were right," she babbled, cheeks burning hotter by the second.
"Are you talking about how I drew my wand just before your dad cast the spell? I was just being careful." Harry smiled reassuringly, and Ginny's heart skipped a beat.
"N-No, not that." Ginny swallowed, and the room was so quiet that the sound seemed to echo. "You had a look on your face. Fred and George look like that when they're watching someone about to trigger a prank they've set up. You knew for sure that something was going to happen." She looked down at her feet, feeling out of breath. That was the longest thing she'd ever said to him.
Harry was quiet for a moment. "Do you remember what I said at dinner?" She nodded. "Well, you heard us going over the facts about Scabbers, and they just didn't make sense. Believe it or not, even with magic, there aren't that many ways to make a rat live so long. I knew there had to be something strange with it, and the Animagus thing seemed to fit. So yeah, I was expecting something to happen."
Ginny felt a little silly now. Of course he knew what was going to happen, he was so smart, he figured it out in a few minutes. What was she thinking?
"I should bring this down to Ron," said Harry, wiggling Ron's wand between his fingers. "Are you going to be alright going to sleep? I'm sure Fred and George won't mind helping you again."
She blushed furiously. He must think I'm a total baby!
"I don't think you're a baby," Harry chuckled, and her head whipped up in surprise before realising she'd spoken aloud. "Honestly, if Hedwig turned out to be some fat weirdo, I'd probably need a few hundred lullabies before I could sleep again. You're taking it much better than I would."
Ginny looked at her feet again. "He was Ron's rat, not mine." She shivered. "It's just awful thinking about him always being there. He's lived in this house as long as I have."
"And now he's gone. He'll spend the rest of his life in Azkaban, if everything goes well."
"And… if it doesn't?"
Harry's expression flickered for a moment into something she'd never seen before. He looked older and wearier, and there was something else… a greyness. It was only for a moment, but she got the distinct feeling that she had no idea what kind of person Harry Potter truly was.
But she was going to find out.
A/N: A lot of stuff happening! Hope you enjoyed the chapter.