Disclaimer: Though I hope to have characters of my own to write about someday, this is NOT that day. So if you don't want to read of my writing about other people's characters, there's a back button somewhere on the screen. Use it.
This is AU in that Harry meets the twins in London, rather than his first Weasley meeting being Ron on the train. Though I've plotted out through the second book's worth of story line, I'm not sure HOW AU it will get yet, but there are already key differences planned. Though I will say as a warning, some canon facts might never be seen.
What if?
"I honestly meant no harm in my actions," the Headmaster steepled his fingers in front of his nose, just above his beard, "I was merely afraid that with the memories intact, our Mister Potter would find himself overwhelmed by any number of emotions."
"What makes you think I'd be overwhelmed?" Harry tried not to fidget.
"Slytherin House, while immensely supportive, has long been known to produce, and cultivate those with dark tendencies." at the sharp glares from the two across from him the former Transfiguration Professor quickly added, "Not evil, merely dark. Many of the children that find themselves sorted into that House are those predisposed to following darker paths. This leads them to be more easily persuaded by those like Voldemort."
"Is that all?" the boy mumbled, trying to ignore his Head of House's flinch.
"The Potter family has never produced a Slytherin child before, and it concerns me to see Harry sorted into that House," the old man seemed even older as he responded.
"Finally, you admit it," The Potions Master growled.
"It is not a bias against your House, Severus, it is merely a caution I've had to learn to behave with," attempting to restore some degree of cheer, Harry supposed, the Headmaster added, "After all, haven't you been trying to coach me into acting more sedately during your entire tenure?"
"Sure it isn't," Harry grumbled, "If Fred or George had approached you last year, saying they thought Quirrell was using Lee as the favored test dummy, you'd have stepped in right off the bat! Not to mention, why store the Philosopher's stone in the school at all? Were you trying to encourage the man to go bad, or were you aiming that recklessness inducing forbidden treasure at Gryffindors?"
"Hogwarts is one of the safest places in all of Wizarding Britain, my boy," rubbing his eyes, the Headmaster sighed, "I figured that it would be safest here, of all places. I was quite saddened when I discovered my mistake."
"So you've admitted you were mistaken in regards to the Stone, why not admit you were wrong about the Dursleys?" Harry groaned.
"I sent someone to speak with them, and received no indicator of abuse," the Headmaster leaned forward, "Harry, please, why are you demanding we believe this?"
"It's true!" Harry yelped, "If you're talking to them, of course they'll say it's not, and when you send me back, like I'm sure you're determined to, they'll just let me have it for having said anything! And it'll be worse because they'll know you don't believe me! Why is it okay for them to feed me only what's left over? To lock me up and call me worthless? How is it acceptable for them to expect me to do all the work around the house, while their son is so spoiled, he's growing horizontally instead of vertically!"
"That could just as well be due to a Muggle health disorder, Harry, so don't hold that against him," the eldest in the room cocked his head to his left.
Harry remembered teatime at the Dursleys and had to ask, "Did the Dursleys serve tea while your person was there?"
"Why do you ask?" the Headmaster needed clarification.
"Well, whenever Vernon and Dudley were both around, tea time consisted of the required tea service, plus a few sandwiches." Harry mimed a stack that stood off the table at a distance, "A sampling of snacks, and sometimes even an extra bit of chocolate drenched thing or two. Rather like - oh wait, that's probably a Muggle book, so you wouldn't know it."
"Petunia and Vernon were recorded as being there, eating what appeared to be a late breakfast, or early lunch," papers on the man's desk were shifted, "but the individual I sent to investigate was not exactly invited to partake."
"That must have been tea time." Harry nodded, "Chances are, if Dudley had been there, it would have looked like late breakfast and early lunch all at once. It's a good thing Uncle Vernon does as well at Grunnings as he does, or he'd never be able to afford the amount he and Dudley eat, on their own. So really, I shouldn't be surprised to have to sneak the bits that fell off the plates, should I?"
"We're getting more than a little off-topic, this was regarding the Dursley's abuse," the Potions Master redirected.
"There has yet to be proof provided that there was actual abuse," Dumbledore sighed.
"Isn't there some way for courts to see my memories?" Harry begged, "Or to make it so I can't lie, even if Veritaserum is illegal for use on minors without guardian consent?"
Harry would have laughed if he recognized the frozen faces for what they were. As it was, the boy sighed, and asked yet another question that had occurred to him through the conversation, "Did Dudley ever show up when they were chatting with the Dursleys about me?"
"Why would that make a difference?" the Headmaster was puzzled.
"Surely you've heard the phrase 'little pitchers have big ears,' by now, sir?" Harry was trying not to whine, but it was blessedly difficult to keep that tone from his voice.
"What to the size of portrait ears have to do with it?" the elderly man raised an eyebrow as Professor Snape sighed.
"It is a Muggle saying that regards the ears of children as capable of hearing that which their parents might not wish them to. Especially when it concerns the repetition of what has been heard at the most inopportune moments." The Potions Master contributed to the conversations some more. "I suspect Mister Potter is attempting to indicate that had his cousin been there, the boy would have spoken up about the truth of the matter, much to the embarrassment of his parents."
"I almost don't want to ask this, but Professor Dumbledore, why are you so determined to believe the Dursleys over me?" Harry felt like curling into the chair, but his insecurity on the matter would thusly be betrayed, according to the older Slytherins.
A rather long pause ensued, as a tea set was conjured and offered around. Harry and Professor Snape both declined, and Dumbledore poured himself a drink. Then he sighed. With a rustle of his robes, and the chinking of the cup as he picked it up, the old man took a long draw from his tea. After swallowing, he began. "I am the one responsible for your placement with the Dursleys, thus the fault lies with my judgement. I am used to the occasions of being proven wrong, but that does not make each instance any easier to bear. I had hoped, that even though rumors of her distaste for magic abounded, Petunia would see past that to the beautiful, innocent child you were, and would love you accordingly. However, according to your, ah, statements, this would not be true. I truly was hoping that blood would run thicker than water."
"And?" Harry prodded.
"And your mother's actions created the opportunity to ensure your safety from the machinations of Voldemort," Dumbledore paused for another mouthful of tea, and Harry blinked, "Her love for you created a protection that will disallow him from making contact with you."
"Surely there's more than that, sir?" Harry was trying to figure out how his mother's love was any different than that of the love of all other mothers out there, ones whose children were surely killed by Death Eaters all the same.
"When you are older I will explain," Dumbledore reached for a sheet of parchment.
"Sir, I need to understand this, so I can explain it to my Housemates later." Harry tried not to look up. He wasn't sure if he was happy with this thought or not, but he found he had to use it, "Some of them are determined to level charges against you for placing me with the Dursleys, even against advice."
"Oh my," another pause as more tea was drunk, "I do believe I can defend myself in that arena, my boy, but you have my thanks for your concern."
"Actually sir," Harry really hadn't wanted to have to say this, but he also wanted the Headmaster to understand how serious the problem was, "I'd rather know myself why my mother's love for me was so special, really. After all, how many other mothers have died trying to protect their babies, and had different results from my mother's actions?"
"This is one time where the Muggles have it right," the old man sighed, "Ignorance will be bliss, and there is no forgetting what you will have learned."
"You're set on returning me to the Dursleys," Harry repeated what he'd said earlier, and again, was not gainsaid, thus -to him- confirming the statement, "So I figure I should at least know why it's so important."
"Hogwarts has some of the best wards in the world, my boy," the Headmaster started.
"Which ward did you use, Headmaster?" Professor Snape interrupted.
"Lily's willing sacrifice started the ward, and Petunia accepting Harry into her home completed it," the phrase was just cryptic enough that Harry had to rethink the words. He'd heard already that his mother had died when she needn't have. That had been explained after the first time that his occasional nightmares woke the others in the Second Year rooms. He was lost in thought enough that he almost missed the next part of the argument.
"How can you be sure that such a ward will protect against Death Eaters as well as their master? Snape hissed.
In a scolding tone, Professor Dumbledore countered, "The Dark Mark, I presume, is a piece of his magic, and will suffice to prevent their entry, should they find Number Four Privet Drive, in Little Whinging, Surrey."
Tipping his head slightly, the Portions Master responded, "I will test that theory. What alternative will you acknowledge should the ward fail?"
"There is none. The blood that flows through Harry's veins is that of Petunia's sister. That is the only protection strong enough." The response left the boy wanting to know what protections he could look forward to that would act against his mother's sister, brother-in-law, and their son. He didn't dare speak up, as he got the feeling that the two adults would completely stop speaking if they remembered his presence.
"You keyed those magics to blood? The wards are notoriously finicky, depending on emotion, intent, and regular renewal to maintain in the first place. Tying them to blood-," The Head of Slytherin began a rant, but Harry had to speak up, or he'd never understand what kind of renewals were necessary for these wards.
"Renewal?" the boy looked at both adults, as the Headmaster's gaze suddenly jumped to him, and the younger of the adults seemed to smirk while the elder's gaze was elsewhere.
A heavy sigh from the former Transfiguration Professor, and he began to explain, "The individuals to be protected by a blood ward must reside in the location designated for at the absolute minimum of a month out of each year to benefit from its power."
"Not to mention the regular sacrifice of blood," Snape's statement made Harry's memory snap to the times that Dudley would whine about his mother and father making him wait to be bandaged up. He also remembered the times that Uncle Vernon grumbled about papercuts in the house.
A second or two of wondering about Aunt Petunia's blood shed, and Harry suddenly recalled the health classes of a few years ago, when they explained the differences between girls and boys, and he stopped that line of thought on a hair, and veered off in happier directions. Like the discomfort on the Headmasters' face, as the elderly man tried to appease the thought of intentionally allowing Harry to come to harm by stating, "Young children often get cut in play, so it is of no matter, is it?"
"The blood I shed in that house was always from Dudley pummelling me, being shoved into things with sharp corners, or cooking accidents. I do hope those wards weren't requiring that the one losing the blood volunteer to have it lost." The boy drawled. "I wasn't ever allowed to play."
"Harry," Dumbledore's voice was old and frail, and sad. A deep sigh followed, "I do not feel comfortable discussing the wards around your home in the hearing of such young ears."
"They're wards you had me live with for eleven years, and ones you intend to send me back to," Harry grumbled, "Why shouldn't I get to hear about them? After all, maybe we can come up with something to protect me from the Dursleys while we're talking."
"I do not want to attempt to bring charges against them without proof," the Headmaster breathed deeply, "Especially as the only way to level the charges properly, their being Muggles, would be to press charges in the usual Muggle fashion. Therefore, such things as Veritaserum or Pensieve testimonials will not apply."
"You think I don't know that?" the boy yelped, "If you'd just let me go somewhere else, there wouldn't be a problem! Before the incident with the House elf, I'd gotten a deal worked out with them. They'd allow me three meals a day, a room to sleep in, school supplies, and the like in exchange for the chores."
"What about the funds allotted to their account at the beginning of each month?" Snape hissed. "Surely they didn't need to be frugal with the monies they were receiving for raising you."
"I didn't dare authorize such a transfer of funds," Professor Dumbledore spoke around his teacup, "After all, to do such a thing would raise suspicion in the Ministry as to why. That would have led to an investigation, and they then would have found Harry's address."
"So the Ministry doesn't know where I live?" Harry asked.
"They do, however it is kept mostly quiet, as drawing attention would not be a good thing." The Headmaster nodded.
"Then what's to stop someone who was determined from investigating?" the boy wanted to know.
"Ah, is a simple matter of no one wanting to draw attention to themselves any more than we want attention drawn to you." The white-bearded individual paused, then continued, "For that reason, I must ask you not to send any more missives to Mister Malfoy's father."
"Sir?" Harry blinked, "What has that to do with any of it?"
"Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater, one of Voldemort's followers, and it was never completely ascertained as to which side he stood for." Dumbledore motioned toward the teapot and cups once more, and Harry shook his head again.
Harry just looked at the man behind the desk. He wasn't going to say a thing in response.
"Slytherin has long been the House for those with ambition, cunning and the wherewithal to make plans and to see them through, come what may. Over time, that has been warped into a negative thing, as viewed by the public. Especially of late, the children of that House, for one reason or another, have found themselves living with the ambition of proving themselves to the world as being as good or better than the rest." The Headmaster sipped his tea, pausing in his oration, "It is this outlook that led Tom Riddle, the best known Heir of Slytherin, to drive himself to madness. A state which also led him to form a band of blood-purists together, in order to make his point."
"Which is?" Harry had a suspicion, but wanted the old man's opinion for once.
"What it is exactly, I'm sure we'll never know, but over time, he has become known as Voldemort." The evasive statement got the boy's defenses up again.
"So he got a bunch of blood-purists together, that must be the Death Eaters, since you spoke of them earlier," Harry puzzled, "but none of my Housemates recognized the name Riddle."
"Ah they wouldn't," Dumbledore pointed abstractly in the air.
"Wait, in the Chamber, the ghost in the diary called himself the Heir of Slytherin," Harry continued, "So if he's the Heir, but his name is unfamiliar… Sir? He wouldn't have been a Pureblood, would he?"
"No, he was not." Harry wondered if the old man was proud or saddened by his catching on. The expression didn't give that away.
"I can't help but think that if the rest of the Wizarding world would quit expecting the Slytherins to go bad, they'd be less likely to." The boy grumbled, "Not to mention, do you know how many students complain about how unfair Professor Snape is, when the other Professors do much the same thing, only against the Slytherins?"
"After so many generations of Slytherins gone down that path, one cannot help but view it in that manner," the Headmaster responded.
"I'm not going to be able to change your mind, and I won't let you change mine, sir, so I'll just return to the other questions on my list," the Second Year sighed, "Can you answer as to how Quirrell and Lockhart got to the positions they did? For that matter, though I have no issues with him, how has Charlie gotten to teach Defense?"
"Professor Quirrell, my boy, was our Muggle Studies professor two years before you arrived here. He went on sabbatical the year after that, and as we'd filled his former position, the easiest place for him to fall into afterwards was as you have experienced." The former Transfigurations professor answered, "He was fully certified in the former subject, and was at least partially licensed for the latter. As for Mister Lockhart, no one knew he was not actually a skilled Defender against the Dark."
A brief pause while the tea was drank to the bottom of the cup, "And at the same time, I am only in charge of sending in the applications with notations as to whom I think would best suit. The ministry has final approval."
"Oh." The child found himself more or less speechless on that subject.
"As sad as it is to say, the hour we allotted to this conversation has passed, and I do believe it is time for you to return to your Common Room," the Headmaster stood, "I will continue to study your list of questions, in efforts of getting answers for you."
Harry wanted to say something along the lines of 'considering you weren't very informative this time, I am not counting on much' but figured it was smarter to keep his mouth shut. "Sir, I don't know if it counts for much, but the Dursleys locked me in Dudley's second bedroom with the window covered by metal bars. This was after a House Elf decided to try to 'save' my life by casting a hovering charm on a dessert my relatives were serving guests."
"A House elf, you say?" the sudden gleam in the elderly man's eyes made the green-eyed child nervous, "I will look into that as well."
The Potions Master escorted his Second Year charge down the stairs and through the halls. They quietly made their way to the dungeons. When they made it that far, Professor Snape spoke up, "You had to make a deal with the Dursleys for your school supplies, Mister Potter?"
"Yes sir," Harry sighed, "I figured it was better that I barter like I do here than to listen to them call me worthless as I do all the chores anyway. I'd really like to do something about getting them paid, while we're at it."
"And just why would we want to do that?" the adult's voice dropped a notch or two in timbre.
"Because along with someone sitting down and explaining to them what was going on, if they had been getting paid to take care of me all this time, I might have fared better," the boy shrugged, "But that's just my opinion."
"Had you any intention of telling us about this?" Flint spoke from just outside of the Common Room.
"I figured I didn't have much choice, what with having made contact with Mister Malfoy during the summer about custody," the Second Year rubbed the back of his head, "But I rather hoped I could keep things from blowing to pieces just yet."
"And why is that?" the Quidditch Captain demanded. "Surely you didn't want to cover up for them?"
"No, I just wanted to wait until I had something more concrete than my own accounts, and one instance of being locked up. Especially since the Ministry has 'my' magical outburst on record." Here the younger boy mimed quotes around the word 'my,' and then shrugged, "Though I couldn't stop myself from hoping the Headmaster would find somewhere else to send me over the summer."
"We will work on that, Mister Potter," the Slytherin Head of House smirked, "After all, there are wards that need testing. Should they fail, there is more ground for having you moved."
The three had moved into the Common Room by now, which left the conversation open to more interruptions, such as when Malfoy drawled, "There is still the option of finding out who exactly has Wizarding Custody of you."
"Gr. That was one of the questions I don't dare ask the Headmaster," Harry grumbled.
"Why not?" Goyle asked.
"Because if the Headmaster isn't formally declared my Guardian, and feels it's his duty to be, he'll get it remanded to himself and I'll be just as out of luck as I am now, or worse."
"Since he really will have the power to dictate your life." Bletchley added. "And now, more than ever, I see why you were working so urgently, yet secretly."
"Is there any way to get hold of my parents' wills?" Harry asked on a lark.
"You'd have to find your way to Gringotts', and I highly doubt the Headmaster will be giving you the clearance for that any time soon." Zabini sighed. "And it's hardly as though we'd be allowed a look, either."
Harry vaguely noticed that the Potions Master had left the room, and then an idea occurred to him. If he could just find a way to make it profitable in the eyes of the others, it just might work.
"Okay, Potter, that look on your face says, 'I have an idea, it just needs refining and carrying out.' So share," Flint chuckled.
"I'm still trying to figure out how to not be beholden to the lot of you for this," the boy mumbled. If he asked Gringotts' directly, he might be able to get his custody question answered. He'd have to make sure that the Headmaster didn't get wind of his plan, but,-
"Potter, share your plan, you can't work out all the kinks by yourself, you know," Bletchley was trying not to laugh at the expression on the Second Year's face.
"Well, I just wondered if it was possible to send a letter direct to Gringotts'?" the brunet asked.
"It is, but you'd have to prove it's really you before they'd consider releasing anything to you," Bole raised an eyebrow.
"I know just how to do that," Harry grinned, and then added, "After I got my answer back, I'd need help making sure that Professor Dumbledore doesn't butt in as I try to get my Guardian instated or changed."
"More than that, you'll need help keeping him from nosing in on your mail," Flint smirked. "Right about now, I don't think I'd be surprised to see him monitoring anything you send with your owl."
"Right about now, I'd be willing to lend you my owl for a few more hours worth of help in researching the lycanthropic laws," Bletchley offered.
"And I'd be glad to help distract the Headmaster from your efforts on changing your Guardian, in exchange for the satisfaction of having got one over on the old man," Flint sneered.
After a little discussion, most of the details of Harry's plan were worked out. The group got so into the conversation that almost as a whole, they jumped wildly when Landale cleared her throat and said, "Aren't you going to supper?"
Finally got this one written. The third/final part of this was finished night before last. If I combined the parts I would have about 25 pages. That's longer than anything else I've ever written, and I think a little wordy. Besides, this series seems to be mostly chit-chatting anyway, so I figured it was better to break it up.
The Muggle book was meant to be a rather pointed reference, and I knew what it was when I first started this chapter. Almost two weeks later, and I'm just finishing, but I have no clue what the reference was any more.
As to Dumbles and the blood wards. My opinion on the two is rather strange. I can see the Headmaster as the manipulative monster people write him as, yet at the same time I can see him as the person who did what he did honestly with the hopes that things would turn out right. The reason for this is that he was effectively the leader in a war. One thing I know about wars is that there are nasty decisions that have to be made, sacrifices that have to be suffered, and the person who makes those decisions has to live with the moral dilemma they leave behind. No, it's not fair that Harry suffers as the sacrifice, but I doubt that Dumbledore just went on his merry way after learning of the confirmed suffering. And the blood wards struck me as something that no one knew much about, or maybe Hermione would have researched them.
Thus, in my definition of them, they still require 30 days of cohabitation. I really think the blood 'sacrifice' would have been a simple thing, as children really do get hurt often, and even paper cuts are common. That would have been the thought in Dumbledore's mind as he accepted the risk of it. If someone feels that I need to flesh out either point, let me know, will you? Again, I don't see the Headmaster as evil, and for all that, there will be consequences for his mistakes.