Privet Drive
He hadn't been sleeping well. For over a year, he hadn't been sleeping well. He'd endured dreams of Cedric and the horrors of the graveyard most nights for the past year. Two weeks ago he'd been awarded a new season of nightmares. The dreams about the fight in the Ministry moved the whole 'not sleeping well' thing up an order of magnitude.
It wasn't unusual for him to be awake for days at a time. He was terrified of seeing Sirius fall through the Veil again. Terrified of seeing Hermione collapse with only that haunting whispered, 'Oh!'. Terrified of hearing Neville screaming under that damn curse again.
Terrified of reliving how ridiculously outclassed he was fighting Tom.
Waking wasn't a lot better, waking he obsessed over his pitiful attempt at a Crucio and wallowed in the anger and disgust he felt both for having used that damned curse and for not being able to use it effectively.
He was savagely angry at himself.
Stunners.. Why didn't we Obliviate the shit out of them? Turn them into a flock of Lockharts? Why didn't we break their wands.. and their legs?
We were schoolchildren, scuffling in a schoolyard. They were the worst sort of mob enforcers..
Long exposure had given Harry some resilience when he dreamed of his mum pleading for his life and offering hers. He'd dreamed of the green flash for as long as he could remember. Cedric's death was more recent, more pointless and crueler in a way. They'd done nothing wrong, he and Cedric, they'd done well and been honorable but Cedric was surplus to Voldemort's requirement so he was murdered.
Voldemort logic.
He kills anything he can't use.
No, Harry was sure awake was better, definitely better. Awake he didn't watch Sirius fall through the Veil.
He was awake when the doorbell sounded at 2a.m.
Mrs. Granger didn't say, "Come with me if you want to live..," but it was close.
"Yes, we've met. Dan and I were in Diagon Alley during a rather festive book signing/brawl sort of affair. I am Hermione's mother, Mister Potter. I wouldn't ask, but her future is on the line. Please come with me, she needs you."
She was her daughter's mother with more than enough moxie to hold the Dursley's at bay while he got ready.
He had the wildest, most unruly feeling, as if he was flying, as if he was free and soaring.
He got busy busy cramming things into his trunk. The photo album, of course, and all the letters he'd saved. Schoolbooks went in next. He rounded up whatever there was to hand of his clothing. He didn't worry about what might be missing. A visit to any second hand store could only be an improvement.
Hedwig stepped onto his arm when he offered it, watching him. She seemed to approve, she puffed herself as she did before accepting a delivery.
"Go to Hermione." Harry whispered, "I'll join you there. Safe flight!"
Harry swooped his arm upwards, launching her. Three beats of her wings was all it took for her to orient herself towards London. In seconds, she faded to a distant glimmer of white then she was gone.
The final words, the last thing he'd say to the Dursley's turned out to be anticlimactic to say the least.
"I've stayed to protect you as much as me but you'll need to see to your own safety now. You must move."
Vernon blamed him, of course, while Dudley huffed and postured, both swearing they could take care of their own safety despite how nervous they looked. Petunia was as angry as he'd ever seen her.
"I never should have allowed it." she said. "Never. We didn't want you but Dumbledore swore that they'd come for us, that our only safety was in keeping YOU. Years we put up with you, with your freakishness and dramatics and it comes down to the same thing. Our lives ruined by your enemies at last."
Vernon patted her shoulder, "Never mind Pet, at least we managed some value in return."
They stood there, gloating over Harry's life as their servant, his routine of cooking, cleaning, gardening. They appeared to derive a lot of satisfaction from having forced Lily's son into the role of dogsbody. They thought it right and proper that he endure Harry Hunting. They thought it just and fair he shoulder the blame for whatever Dudley could shift his way.
He wanted to hurt them. He rather thought he'd get the Crucio working perfectly well given a minute or two to warm up on them.
"Let's go Mrs. Granger. I'm done mucking about with this garbage."
They stood waiting for the Knight Bus, listening to a very tipsy Fletcher threaten Vernon. Mrs. Granger sighed and nudged him in the side, "We'd have loved to have you." She flapped her hand at Number 4 and calmly stated "Never mind the bollocks, Harry, you're a love."
Harry wasn't quite sure what to do with that. Fortunately the Bus arrived with it's usual conversation stopping flair. They managed to pay Stan and get adjoining seats more by being launched in the general direction of the seats than by design. Harry leaned over and asked, "What's going on Mrs. Granger?"
Her eyes firmly shut, she patted his arm as she muttered, "It's probably better if we get somewhere private before you hear the details."
Mrs. Granger was not by any means a fan of the Knight bus which made her a very sensible woman in Harry's opinion. They rode the rest of the way, she with her mouth shut and listening as he told tales of Hogwarts. They kept their eyes closed, ignoring an increasingly agitated Stan who spent the ride eavesdropping for juicy bits of gossip about The Boy-Who-Lived.
After some relieved deep breathing and a bit of staggering Mrs. Granger took one end of Harry's trunk and led Harry away from the Leaky Cauldron. She put a fair bit of distance between them and the old pub before she waved down a cab.
A powerful pang of loss swept through him at the sight of Number 12. All he could think of was Sirius and an ocean of missed chances due only to his hubris. Once inside it was the usual circus. The drapes over the portrait opened and naturally, Walbruga screeched and threatened and cursed. The damnable elf took a stand to the right of the portrait, parade rest, agreeing loudly when he wasn't hissing and muttering.
Harry was positive Kreacher was ready and eager to dump everything he learned in front of Bellatrix.
That could be useful. Could we set a trap for the bitch?
Hermione was peeking out of the library looking not at all good.
With the screeching of Walburga he felt both the onset of a headache and a bit of satisfaction that, for once, it wasn't pain courtesy of Voldemort.
While Harry struggled to close the drapes he thought, I'm going to find a way to deal with thisdamn portrait! He heard doors opening upstairs and the unmistakable sound of Molly Weasley laying down the law.
"No! No, I said! You children stay here!"
Finally, Harry got the damn drapes closed and the noise level dropped abruptly.
He looked up to see Arthur just peeking over the banister, wand at the ready, his usually cheerful face tight with worry. Judging by his double take, seeing Mrs. Granger with Harry was a surprise. Harry shooed Kreacher away as Arthur announced them.
"Ahh! Harry and Emma!"
Harry could hear Ron's voice demanding passage even over the general Weasley hubbub while Molly tried to shush them all. With the ease of long practice Mr. Weasley ignored the thumping chaos of the kids as well as his lady wife's shrill commands.
She hasn't got a prayer.. thought Harry.
"An unexpected pleasure!" Arthur beamed at him, "Is everything alright?"
Let's try some honesty first..
"No, sir, I don't think so. Mrs. Granger told me Hermione needs my help." Harry made some sort of awkward flapping motion in Hermione's direction, "I came straight away."
She'd stayed back, hoping Harry could avoid an interrogation, but that wasn't happening. Hermione moved to stand beside him, her hands fussing with one another.
Harry turned to her, taking her in. She looked frantic, super stressed, stressed like it was the week of finals. She planted her hands on his shoulders and began to talk a mile a minute.
Naturally, the elf opened drapes again and the damned portrait picked right back up where it left off. Somehow the umbrella stand tipped over while the damned elf offered lugubrious counterpoint to Walbruga's never ending spew.
It was an incomprehensible mishmash of noise.
Mrs. Weasley came bustling down the stairs, determined to manage any information exchange. Ron came skulking behind her, defiant and a bit nervous. Molly wasn't someone you crossed lightly.
Mrs. Weasley simultaneously managed to block Ron from linking up with them, kept her other children upstairs, closed the portrait drapes, chased off the elf, and set the umbrella stand to rights.
It was a virtuoso display.
"Hermione, dear, the Headmaster was quite clear that Harry shouldn't be.. distracted.. from his.. recovery."
They gaped at her, sharing a thought, though they didn't know it.
Distracted?.. Recovery?
"It would be irresponsible of you to involve him in something he can do nothing about don't you think dear?"
With Hermione's hash settled, she turned her attention to Harry and let loose a tsunami of motherly concern.
"First thing in the morning we'll get you right back home, Harry dear."
Harry would be damned before that happened but Molly motored on.
"Will we need to smooth over any fuss with your family? Arthur, you must floo for someone reliable! Mundungus seems to have let down the side.."
Harry glanced at Hermione, who still looked shattered but now with a side of furious and ashamed.
I owe her...
"Mrs. Weasley, I need to help Hermione so I'll be staying here until she has what she needs."
Molly Weasley speechless was not something one saw often. Harry eased away from her.
Arthur cleared his throat and murmured, "Molly, dear, it's 3am. Far too late for more bother."
"Fine!"
It clearly wasn't.
"Nothing can be done tonight so everyone to bed! Harry, you'll be in with Ron for the night. We will discuss matters in the morning. Off you go! Everyone!"
She clapped her hands twice and glared around. Ron resisted to the last but eventually retreated up the stairs, grumbling but obedient.
Harry followed Hermione towards the kitchen with Dan and Emma.
Molly tromped after them and poor Arthur after her.
"Emma..", Molly was trying for a reasonable tone though Harry could plainly hear her frustration, "Dan.. I know I've no authority over your family but I'm sure it would be for the best if we all just went to bed. It's far too late at night for more upset. We adults can decide what needs to be done in the morning, don't you agree?"
In fact, Emma didn't agree. Not at all.
"No, Molly. We need Harry's help and we are going to ask for it. Tonight. Right now. Before someone decides it's 'for the best' that we magically forget everything up to and including the fact that we have a daughter. I would prefer the conversation be between my family and Harry but I can't stop you from attending if that is your choice."
Molly was a force but Emma was an adult and had long moved past caring overmuch about the opinions of strangers. Harry fought a morbid urge to turn and see Molly's expression.
"I don't think this at all wise. You're just.."
She didn't say 'muggles' but they all filled in the blank. She made a quick brushing aside motion and continued speaking.
"You can't possibly understand the consequences of your decisions! Our children are at great risk, a risk you could very well increase due to your ignorance of our ways. You just don't understand!"
They'd arrived in the kitchen. Emma turned to face Mrs. Weasley
"Molly, 'your ways' only allow 'muggles' to know what your kind decide is 'for the best'. I can't stop you from sitting in but don't think you are welcome."
Arthur Weasley, as gentle and as well meaning as always, tried to calm the troubled waters.
"Molly, everyone, this is getting out of hand. We ARE friends and we WILL act like it. Can we all agree that everyone is done moving around for the night? We will all stay inside this house until we have all come to a decision about any next steps, is that correct?"
The Grangers all looked at one another, communicating silently as people who know one another well do. Dan nodded to the Molly and Arthur.
"We won't leave the house."
But Dan had more to say and he was obviously very angry.
"As happy as I am that Hermione has such good friends there is no 'all' in any decisions about her future. We will listen to you but we won't commit to do what you decide is for your goddamn best."
The Grangers all nodded firmly so Harry followed along feeling rather like a bobble head dog glued to a dashboard.
Arthur took what he could from that. "Excellent. Well then, we're all safe for the night. Sleep well everyone."
Arthur took Molly by the hand and eased her away from the kitchen. "Molly dear, let's leave the Grangers and Harry to their discussion, it's only courteous."
The Weasleys withdrew to begin their next fight. There was a bit more shouting as they forced Ron away from the door and back up the stairs despite Ron's flat out refusal.
They'd have preferred tea but the hob was magical which meant they couldn't heat water. Hermione set out glasses while Harry dug in the cold box for butterbeer. The adults tried butterbeer, endured some spontaneous convulsive shuddering, and vowed to avoid the nasty stuff forever after.
"Right."
Harry took in the faces gathered around the table. "Will someone FINALLY tell me what's going on?"
Like clockwork, all heads swiveled to look at Hermione. Explanations were hers by right of conquest.
She cleared her throat and started them off with a bang.
"Sirius' will was read today. I asked why you weren't there. Dumbledore decided to attend in your place as well as his own. He said he'd tell you what you needed to know."
Harry gaped at her.
Wow.. Sirius' will? He held his breath while wrestling with another hot rush of guilt.
"'..tell me what I need to know'? Why is he doing this? But Hermione.. She's pissed, really pissed, at Dumbledore!
"You are heir to the Black money, name, and properties, most importantly this particular property. That's the first thing."
The Grangers began looking everywhere Harry wasn't. Hermione's voice quavered as she continued.
"That's big, and sort of horrible but the next thing.. the next thing.. the thing I need your help with is.. Dumbledore betrothed me to Malfoy."
Harry froze. He shook, first his head, then the quake moved down his body, like a dog coming out of the ocean. He made some sort of involuntary noise, a yelp or a growl.
No. That can't be right.
"Did you say.. Betrothed? To Ferret?!"
He felt like he'd been coshed; out of focus, heavy and slow.
She nodded. "I refused, of course. Actually, I laughed at them."
She patted her parents hands, "My parents supported me."
The elder Grangers made some very British mutterings; 'of course' and 'naturally'.
"Defying both the Malfoys and Dumbledore puts my family in horrible danger. We must have magical protection. This is the most protected place I know of and it belongs to you. Can we stay?"
Harry was nodding and saying every kind of yes he could think of before she'd fully finished, "Of course! Yes! Absolutely!"
He took a long shuddering breath.
That can't be right. Did she actually say?..
"Dumbledore.. betrothed you? To Malfoy?"
She nodded and he hated the tears building in her eyes.
"Did he.. ask you?"
"Never said a word. The first I knew of it was this morning at Gringotts. Ferret said he wants me to struggle so he can enjoy breaking me more. They actually expected me to go with them, he and his mum, so I could begin to 'learn my place'."
Harry thought he might well manage an exemplary crucio, no warm up required, if he had Draco right there. "..learn your place?"
He ground his teeth for a minute then reached across the table and patted her hand.
"Ferret has always thought much too highly of himself. I'd bet everything on that going the other way.."
There.. she's not on the verge of tears now.. Now she's mad..
"Right. Your family has a safe place to stay. What can I do about the betrothal?"
She lost her fire and her shoulders slumped.
"It's a magical contract, you know how horrible they can be. I haven't seen the exact language but it doesn't matter, in any valid contract the contracting persons must have the authority to enter the contract. Dumbledore doesn't have that authority. We can ignore it but there's something else. I hate to ask it."
Harry rolled his hand in a get on with it sort of motion while entertaining decidedly unchristian thoughts of how quickly the problem could be solved.
"I don't trust the Order to not stun me and hand me over to the Malfoys." Hermione said. Dan grunted and nodded. Emma's hand clenched into fists, knuckles white.
"The Weasleys, God love them, wouldn't do that to me, to us, I'm sure of it. But the rest of the Order? Any number of them would do anything Dumbledore asks."
They shared a thought they each thought was theirs alone.
Snape would pay good galleons for the chance.
"And.. Kreacher.. He betrayed Sirius, I think he'd happily betray me as well."
This has to hurt her. Everyone in the magical world that she admires is now suspect.
Harry tried to think of a security solution that didn't involve the cold blooded murder of a house elf and failed.
"I can't just kill Kreacher, Hermione, I can't. Not in cold blood."
She recoiled, "Of course not! Bar him from this house and order him to never harm us. Everyone's frantic that he knows the Order's secrets so assign him to the Order and make them responsible for him!"
Well, that works. And it's funny.
"Kreacher! Come here!"
There was no snap of elf travel, just a quiet rustle in the corner.
"Muggle loving half blood Master calls for poor Kreacher?"
Hermione slid a piece of parchment across the table to him. The note was crystal clear and quite short.
Dear Professor Dumbledore.
The Order of the Phoenix is evicted from my house effective immediately. Return anything taken. Remove of anything not belonging to me, the Grangers, or the House of Black. I will assign Kreacher to the property or person of your choice at noon so be prepared.
It's for the best.
Harry Potter
"Go to Dumbledore. Give this note to him. Tell him I sent you. Return to me once he's decided what you should do. I will approve his orders or change them as I see fit. Don't tell him this."
Kreacher seemed almost cheery as he popped away.
"There, I've served notice on the Order and I'll reassign Kreacher.. That will keep us safer but we'll be trapped in here. We'll starve. We need to be able to come and go. We need an escape plan because.."
Because no protection is proof against a traitor.
Harry paused as he thought of something horrible. "Would Dumbledore tell Malfoy the secret?"
They looked at one another as reality battered aside illusions.
The man who left a baby on Vernon Dursley's doorstep absolutely would tell Malfoy and his mum the secret. For the greater good, of course.
Harry shrugged, thinking that it might not matter.
"Well.. The secret is; 'The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at Number 12 Grimmauld Place'. When I evict the Order, the secret isn't valid anymore. Won't the Fidelius fall just as it did in Godric's Hollow?"
Hermione frowned, thinking it through. Hagrid had collected Harry that Halloween though he hadn't been told the secret.
"Let's assume it will. That leaves us the house protections."
Hermione took them the next step.
"They're Blacks, Harry. Mrs. Malfoy and Draco have the blood of Black in them, even though Sirius disowned them they might have some way to work around the house protections."
Harry groaned and rubbed his face.
I should be comfortable with feeling as if I'm dangling over a long drop.
Hermione said, "Ron's gran was a Black. She was disowned when she married his grandad Septimus."
Harry nodded, "Well, easy then. Sirius disowned the Malfoy's and Bellatrix, right? Just like him to have all the fun. I can reinstate Ron's gran and the Tonks family? I'd like to do that even if it doesn't help the house protections hold against the Ferret, his mum and his murderous auntie."
Hermione shook her head no, then shrugged, "I'm not sure how that works. This is what Mrs. Weasley meant, Harry. You need to go slow around this stuff, make sure you know all of what will happen. It would be worth talking to Ron's gran."
Harry nodded, "Right.. So talk to Ron's gran and maybe do some disowning and reinstating to top off the evicting."
Dan could see the kids were beginning to be overwhelmed. He knew that they wouldn't make good decisions in this state. They needed rest.
"Right you two. It's been a long and frightening day which means we old codgers need our rest more than usual. I suggest we find a room with a locking door and see about some sleep. When we wake up, we'll get back to work on this mess."
Of course, they picked the library. With three Grangers, there was no other choice.
They settled into the massive armchairs, Harry and Hermione with wands in hand behind decent cover and facing the door.
Harry would much rather not have a screaming nightmare with his friend in the room so he tried to stay awake. He occupied himself thinking about his life, wondering what would become the new normal.
There had been a sameness to his life at the Dursley's. He'd lived through the years of mild to moderate abuse, each day a grinding miserable clone of the one before.
Then Hagrid had kidnapped him and everything shifted, settled, and hit a new rhythm.
Each year at Hogwarts there was some crisis the trio managed at grave risk to their lives.
Hogwarts had never been safe, not for them, but it had been what they did and they did it with their whole hearts.
Voldemort is out there. I don't know where. He may not know exactly where I am now but he will know exactly where I will be at exactly what times if I return to Hogwarts. Ferret will return and be primed and ready to do something serious to Hermione. It would be stupidly stupid to go back.
He wasn't expecting to feel a melancholy sense of relief as he came to accept he wasn't returning to his school.
Whatever insanity is next for the kids at Hogwarts, they'll have to deal with it.
He looked at the back of his right hand, disfigured by the thick scars formed during his detentions with Umbridge. The events of the night had thrown him out of his rut. His new perspective raised some questions.
Why did I do that? It's insane to think my choices were to kowtow to that sadist or mutilate myself for her enjoyment while the adults cowered.
They'd tell him to keep his head down tomorrow.
He wouldn't. That hadn't changed. What had changed was that he wouldn't allow innocents to suffer because something was for the best.. of everyone else.
He wouldn't stand aside while they tried to get Hermione to sacrifice herself for the greater good. She couldn't be forced into a marriage to Draco Fucking Malfoy, the idea was bizarre, incomprehensible. He'd do everything, anything, he could to stop that.
Can't marry a dead man.
He thought about that.
I couldn't. I couldn't kill him in cold blood. I wonder what condition he'd have to be in to break the betrothal.
He traced the scars on his right hand with his left, trailing his index finger gently across them. He was overwhelmed by sudden tears and hadn't the least idea what brought them on. He fought to keep silent, to hold the crazy in, not giving voice to the gasping but unable to stop the shuddering, sitting across from Hermione, the pair of them guarding the doorway.
Like always, it passed, leaving him ashamed and nervous.
He'd convince the powers that be that he was withdrawing by the simple means of just doing it. What they'd do about it in return was harder to suss out.
A part of him was eager to see what the Headmaster would do when they resigned from his school. Quitting Hogwarts should sever any authority he had over them.
They'll need a new hero.
He expected tons of trouble before they accepted the fact.
I've got to write Neville and have a serious chat with Ron. I like McLaggen for the next hero, that git is perfect for sacrificial chump.
Harry eventually did fall asleep, a drifting doze that was more restful than any night at the Privet Drive. Knowing Hermione was close if not safe helped.
The group in the library woke to a veritable symphony of bitching.
The damned portrait was loudest by virtue of being closest and stationary. Molly's bitching dopplered in and out as she raced around the house on her search and destroy mission. Harry wasn't in his bed and the end times had arrived because of it.
Dan muttered something that sounded a lot like 'does she ever shut the fuck up?' which caused Emma's to start to fuss as well.
"The painting! I was talking about the painting!"
The library crew headed to Molly's command bunker, the kitchen, leaving Harry to fight the latest Battle of the Drapes.
He managed it eventually but it wasn't easy.
Molly had settled down a bit by the time he joined everyone at the table, she was still angry, but she wasn't yelling. Harry could deal with that. Even when angry she was a thousand times better than Vernon.
"But why, Harry? Why would you not sleep in your bed?"
"Standing watch, really."
Molly gave a quick jab of her wand and a parade of serving dishes wafted to the table.
"Standing watch? What could you possibly think was going to happen?"
Harry, quite calmly said "Obliviation, memory modification, kidnapping, assassination at a stretch."
Ron muttered something indecipherably supportive through a face full of breakfast, Hermione grouched at him about his manners and Harry grinned.
All was right with their world if not Mrs. Weasley's.
"What could you possibly mean by all that, Harry?"
"We were worried someone might try to take Hermione away or do something to her parents."
Molly without something to say wasn't normal.
She won't speak badly of Dumbledore. She won't lie that it couldn't happen. She's snookered.
A flurry of activity was kicked off a few minutes later when Mundungus came stumbling from the floo. The library crew cracked the kitchen door and listened in as the damned portrait was hushed yet again.
The rumpled old drunk gave a fairly accurate report though it was Dung's firm opinion a group of very skilled wizards of uncertain allegiance had stunned him to prevent him from interfering as Harry was forced onto the Knight Bus by a woman of uncertain motive.
"Still alive, ain't I? Couldn't be Death Eaters."
He most certainly hadn't passed out after arguing with Vernon. Lies! Lies and foul calumny against an honorable businessman according to Dung.
"But Harry's here and none the worse ya say! Let Dumbledore know them muggles are right peeved will ya?"
Finding Dung passed out in the garden? Oh, I'm positive they are more than 'right peeved'!
An hour later Snape threw open the doors of the room Molly had them cleaning. He gave the room a damn good sneering in general before concentrating on Harry and Hermione in particular.
"Potter, Granger, come with me."
They looked at one another while Molly fluttered and assured them it was for the damned best.
This was horribly familiar to them, this last teetering second before the plunge.
"No." Harry was surprised to hear his own voice.
Molly gasped and began to read him the riot act. Snape, though, was a man of action. He sneered and took a step toward Harry, reaching for him. Harry shook his head and slid to the side, turning Snape away from Ron and Hermione who had drawn their wands, shaking but determined.
Hermione and Ron might be ready for Snape but there was never going to be a wand fight, not if Molly had anything to say about it.
Molly had a lot to say about it. Severus didn't even pretend to care.
"Thank you, Molly, for your usual voluminous and unsolicited contribution. Potter, Granger, with me."
Harry shook his head. He tried to keep his voice flat and even. Mostly, he succeeded.
Even though he did well those who knew him could tell he really enjoyed the next bit.
"Not going to happen. You are not welcome here. Leave and don't return."
They listened to chapter and verse about big heads and egos and inept bunglers with overinflated opinions of themselves. Snape really didn't like Harry and Ron sputtering and blushing as they fought to keep from laughing.
When he started on Hermione's 'good fortune' Harry called for Kreacher.
"Snape is no longer welcome in my house, Kreacher. See that he leaves immediately Do not allow him entry again."
Like any good prima donna, Snape slammed the door, punctuation for his exit.
They spent the rest of the day enduring a steady grinding from Mrs. Weasley about proper manners, respect, and what was to become of them. Harry's good mood didn't survive the experience.
Dan did all he could to help.
"Very 'Lord of the Manor', Harry." Dan posed grandly then made a series of swooping grand gestures before proclaiming, "And Harry spake thusly; 'My man servant will show you out! Begone being of vast distemper!'"
Mr. Granger dropped his pose and shook his head at Harry, "Bit overplayed, old bean."
The twins immediately drifted into Mr. Granger's area. Low brow chuckling erupted regularly thereafter. Now and then one of them would break into an increasingly bizarre improv performance of 'The Purging of the Snape'.
When Hermione had enough she gave them back some Robbie Burns; 'Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie. O, what a panic's in thy breastie!' and suggested that when the encore began they should play a part other than jester after the fact.
That was the day they had. Periodically a stormfront would rush through when Molly had enough of their foolishness. They'd slowly slip back into mixed work and shenanigans as they struggled to force order and cleanliness onto one of the front rooms.
They had just begun the wash up following a very nice tea when Dumbledore arrived.
That is to say, a vastly displeased Dumbledore arrived with his Potions Master trailing behind. Snape looked unbearably smug.
"Harry, come with me, please, we have much to discuss."
Harry braced himself, his back to the sink. He caught the dish towel Ron tossed him and dried his hands.
"We do have a few things to clear up, yeah. No, I'm not going anywhere with you. This room with these people listening are fine with me, except for Snape. Kreacher! Show Snape out. Immediately. He is not allowed to be in our house again."
The debate would rage for years. Did Harry say 'Show' or 'Throw'? All agreed Kreacher at least pretended to hear the latter.
The disappearance of his Potions Master did for what little twinkle there was in Dumbledore's eyes. In fact, Dumbledore showed the face Harry had only seen during his duel with Riddle; fierce, implacable.
The trio, working together, had managed to stun Snape once. They thought they could manage it again if they had to. They knew there was less than no hope they could best Dumbledore.
Which really says something about my chances with Tom..
The Headmaster only sighed at the loss of his Snape and indicated Harry should follow along then turned to leave the kitchen.
Rather like a shepherd signaling his dog, Harry thought. It wasn't the most politic of choices but Albus had been through a horrific day. The Headmaster had taken a raft of shit as he engineered Vernon's acceptance of Harry's return.
Harry's voice quavered a tiny bit. Whether it was nerves or fury, the boy wasn't sure. Both I reckon. He was sure he wasn't accepting any commands from Dumbledore.
"Everything has changed. It changed because you did something so massively stupidly wrong that I won't work with you. I certainly don't accept your authority."
Hermione moved next to Harry, bumped shoulders with him. Ron was as tight on her other side.
Her voice, contrary to Harry's was without quaver, "Nor do I."
Ron didn't speak, he just nodded and stood with them.
The Headmaster stopped in the open doorway and turned to face the crowd in the kitchen. Molly was in full flood about disrespect and an appalling lack of manners and better parenting practices. She was getting angrier by the second as everyone present ignored her completely.
Albus made a shushing gesture. It took a minute but she sputtered to a pause.
No one believed she was done.
Once there was relative silence the Headmaster's honeyed baritone flowed over them.
"This is a not unexpected, though unfortunate, complication to your upbringing, both of you."
His gesture gathered Harry and Hermione into his confidence.
"You both view a betrothal as outre but in our world..", he made a courtly half bow to Hermione, "..in what is now your world, Miss Granger, it is an honored tradition and often has happy results. I ensured Ms. Granger's contract stipulates that she may end the betrothal without penalty."
He looked very pleased with himself, as if the whole sorry affair was settled.
Hermione shrugged. Her voice was crisp, cold, "I have no contract. If you want that little creep betrothed, step right up and betroth yourself to him. I'm sure however it works out it would be for the best."
Harry was surprised Hermione's voice didn't freeze the air around her.
Dumbledore blinked at her, "My dear, all relationships take time and effort, I merely included an acknowledgment of that fact in what is, in fact, your binding magical contract."
She slipped her ever present bookbag off one shoulder, hooked it with her elbow and had it open and was burrowing inside it with her free hand in the space of a heartbeat. It was a beautifully fluid move, the result of endless repetition. If it had been a Quidditch move, the Harpies would have signed her instantly.
She slapped a thin sheaf of parchment on the table.
"I've written some binding magical contracts. I've no doubt you will be most pleased with them. You may sign them though your signature is irrelevant and immaterial. Each contract supports the Greater Good, each is for the best."
She slid a page to him. "This contract strips Tom Riddle of his magic as punishment for his many grievous crimes."
She shoved the next one at him.
"This one strips any Ministry employee, Hogwarts employee or school board member or any Wizengamot member of their magic should they be guilty of gross corruption, influence peddling, or any capital crime."
"This one requires adoption of English common law principles as reasonably amended to account for magic. The Wizengamot and a representative of the Prime Minister will oversee the amendment process."
She turned to Harry and asked, as sweet as pie, "Harry? Do you have a quill, hopefully a blood quill, handy for the Headmaster?"
There were a lot of different reactions, many of them quite loud. None of those reactions were from Harry, the Grangers, or Ron. She'd been camped in a library, what did they expect?