I do not own Harry Potter, the Wizarding World, or any canon characters.

The Family that Chooses You

Chapter 29 – Questions Asked

Harry woke with a start and for one dreadful moment he thought he was still at Number 4 Privet Drive. His heart thumped in his chest, he was breathing fast and shallowly, his skin crawled and burned. He imagined he could hear the turning of the locks, the sound that heralded a new terrible day. He thought he could hear Dudley's brutish laugh, Vernon's rough tone, Petunia's frozen sneer.

It took long moments for him to remember he was no longer there. He focused on the things that were different, the things that proved he was not in Surrey with the Dursleys.

He was lying on a camp bed. It was small and older, creaking whenever he moved, but it felt so much more comfortable than the larger bed in the second bedroom at Number 4. He was covered with a home-made quilt, wonderfully soft and smelled of flowers. He was holding onto the stuffed rabbit that Angelina had given him for Christmas last year. When he went to the Dursleys at the beginning of summer he had carefully hidden the rabbit in his trunk. He desperately wanted to sleep with it but he knew if he did it would have been taken away.

He hugged the toy as tightly as he could. It warmed in his arms, the warmth spreading throughout his chest and into his body. He could smell polished wood and cut grass, a pleasant accompaniment to the flowery quilt. He started to relax more. He could almost feel Angelina hugging him through the toy. It made him feel safe.

His body began to uncurl from the tight ball that he slept in, a habit he picked back up when he left Hogwarts. His arm reached out almost involuntarily and he relaxed further when he touched the small glass ball Katie had given him. At the last moment he remembered to not activate it.

Ron's snoring was not why he woke. Oddly enough it was also a soothing sound to Harry. It really helped him remember that he did in fact escape the Dursleys with the aid of Ron and the twins. His snores helped keep the other noises at bay, the ones that took space in his head, the ones that tormented him.

Harry slipped his glasses on and looked around. It was still early according to the clock on Ron's wall. The barest glimmer of sunlight could barely be seen out of the window, the smallest tendrils of golden red against purple black. Not even the roosters were awake yet.

Even though Ron's room was larger than the second bedroom, the walls began to press down on Harry. He started to breathe faster again, panic rising in his chest. He felt confined even though he knew he was not. He felt like he could not breathe.

As silently as possible he rose from the camp bed. Gathering the globe and the rabbit and his wand he crept out of Ron's room. The house was silent save for the ticking of the grandfather clock that sat on the ground floor of the Burrow. Even though he was still new to the house, even though lots of things were incredibly foreign to him, he felt a lot more comfortable in this place. He could tell it felt like a home, the Weasley's home.

He could tell it was not his home.

He slipped out the back door and sat down on the steps. Once outside he felt himself relaxing. The outdoors felt clean to him, fresh, open. It was barely louder in the garden. Bugs made their noises as they went about their business. The nocturnal birds were singing their last songs before their rest while the early day birds began theirs. The chickens clucked sleepily in their coop.

It was a far cry different than being in that locked second bedroom.

Harry drew the quilt about himself, cradled the rabbit in one arm while holding the globe with his hand. He loosely held his wand in the other. Only then did he start to drift back to sleep.

-0-

Molly got out of bed. She still felt tired.

At first, she did not know why. She went to bed at a reasonable time. Arthur came home in the late evening from the Ministry so she did not have to stay up. The children were well behaved. The twins refrained from their usual mischief given what they did a few nights prior. She did not do anything too strenuous the day before. Aside from worrying and fussing more so than usual.

Worrying and fussing over Harry.

That was it she realized. That is what made her sleep fitfully. She could hear the sounds he made in his sleep when she checked in on him the first night he slept there. She could see how thin and wasted he looked in her mind. She imagined she could see more terrible things that the boy desperately hid.

She put on her dressing robe and made sure her wand was in her pocket. It was a bit earlier than when she normally rose but she knew she could not go back to sleep. She did not bother Arthur; he needed the rest.

Her slippered feet made little noise as she closed the door behind her. Having literally helped build the Burrow, she knew where the squeakiest floorboards were so she was able to walk up the steps without disturbing others. As she passed each door, she put her ear to it out of habit, making sure her children slept on.

She gently opened the door to Ron's room. She could hear his snoring, something that made her smile every time. He had been a dreadful snorer ever since he was very little. Her smile disappeared when she saw that the camp bed was empty. That Harry was missing.

Her eyes swept the room as she took a step in. He was not there. She had a terrible thought that somehow the Dursleys had come and taken him back in the middle of the night. Then she remembered the ample protections the Burrow had and that the Dursleys were Muggles. That still did not dispel the thought that someone had kidnapped Harry.

Technically again but the twins and Ron had kidnapped Harry for his own good.

She closed Ron's door behind her and drew her wand. She drew a circle with the tip and non-verbally cast a spell. She felt the presence of everyone in the home. Then she felt another presence, just outside the door of the Burrow and she breathed a sigh of relief.

Her feet made a little more noise as she hurried down the stairs to the ground floor. She pushed the backdoor open and finally was able to relax, seeing Harry there. Her relief was short-lived however.

He looked so small, curled up in the quilt. He was still unacceptably thin. She knew it would take time to get him back to what she thought was proper weight. It did not stop her from trying to stuff him full at every meal. The boy barely ate more than Ginny and while Molly knew her family were prodigious eaters, he still ate too little.

Thankfully Harry made no noise this time. He was sleeping peacefully, easily. His face relaxed, no lines of caution or fear etched deep. She could just barely see the rabbit's head peeking out from beneath the quilt. She smiled.

She saw the wand in his hand. She stopped smiling.

Why on earth did the boy go to sleep holding his wand? Why does he think that's necessary?

She wanted to know so she could help him. She did not want to know because she felt it was something she could never forget. No matter how hard she tried.

A part of her wanted to let him sleep. It seemed a shame to wake him when he looked so peaceful, but she also did not want him to sleep outside in the wet and the cold. She shook his shoulder as gently as she could. "Harry dear. Are you okay?"

His look of fear when his eyes opened physically hurt her.

"You're okay Harry. You're fine. It's Mrs. Weasley, Ron's mother. You're at the Burrow dear." She tried to keep her voice as soft and low as possible. She kept her hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, hi Mrs. Weasley," he said sleepily. The flash of fear exhausted him again and he blinked slowly at her."

"A bit early to be in the garden," she said as lightly as she could. "Did Ron's snoring drive you out? I can put a Silencing Charm on him tonight if you wish."

"No ma'am," he said with a sleepy smile. "His snoring doesn't bother me. I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. I felt trapped." Fatigue lowered his filters, made him more honest. Fatigue made him less observant, missing the look of horror on her face. "The walls were pressing in."

"The Burrow doesn't make you feel uncomfortable, does it?" she asked, dreading the answer.

He shook his head. "No ma'am, I love it here. It's just the walls. They felt too tight."

Mrs. Weasley began to feel a little panicked. She was thinking that she was touching on something she had no experience with. She took a deep breath and decided to rely on her years of being a mother. "I'm glad to hear it. The Burrow likes you Harry. Magical Homes have feelings too, I can tell."

Her heart broke at his smile.

"That's nice," he said slowly. He patted the wall of the Burrow with his wand hand. "It's a nice home. Ron, and the twins, and Percy are lucky."

"We're lucky to have you too." She drew him up gently, thankful that he followed her direction. "But it's really not good to sleep outdoors like this. How about you sleep in the sitting room? You can sit in my chair, it's very big and comfortable."

He followed willingly. He allowed her to settle him in the big armchair. He did not stop her from laying his wand and his globe on the table beside the chair. He smiled when she gently removed his glasses and tucked the quilt around him, making sure the rabbit was safe in his arms. "Thank you," he whispered before he fell deep asleep.

Molly stifled a sniffle as she looked down at the boy. She could tell, she could feel, something was terribly wrong.

She stepped into the kitchen and waved her wand a little haphazardly. Things started to move a little too fast. The kettle banged on the stove with the pans. Food came flying out of the pantry and ice box. The knives rang as they began to cut and chop.

Normally she would be upset at her lack of control. Normally she took a lot of pride at how well she did household charms. Today however, it suited her mood. It was frenetic and disturbed, just like her.

She summoned parchment and quill and ink. She wrote swiftly. Her handwriting was fast and emotional. Her letters far sharper than normal, her words more pointed and direct than normal. When she finished, she wrote it again, the exact same words, the exact same way.

When she finished, she opened the kitchen window, tapping the sill with her wand. After a moment Errol, the aging family owl, and Hermes, Percy's owl, fluttered in. She fed them both and tied a letter to each bird. They flew off and she stood at the open window, staring after them.

Arthur came down the steps stifling a yawn. "Good morning, dear," he said.

"Good morning." She pecked him on the cheek. "I'm sorry if I woke you."

"Only that you weren't still in bed with me," he chuckled. Then he noticed the pensive look on her face, and the writing utensils on the table. "Who'd you write to this early?"

She nodded towards the entryway to the sitting room. Arthur peeked in and saw Harry curled up in the big chair.

"Ahh, I see," he said softly. "I thought he replied the first time you sent him a message, after Harry arrived."

"He did and it was very brief," Molly said. She started to grow angrier. "I thought it was rather abrupt. 'Thank you for informing me, I trust you will take good care of Harry'," she spat out. "What a load of tripe. I want answers. More satisfactory ones."

"What's gotten into you?" Arthur asked, concerned for her. "What's wrong?"

She told him how she found Harry, how he acted. She told him how he had arrived at the Burrow, how she looked to him.

Arthur frowned. "Is that why you asked me to look into who is his magical guardian?"

She nodded. "I cannot believe that he is neglected to this degree. There has to be someone to look out for him and if there isn't then there should be."

"I agree," he said. He looked back at the sleeping boy. "He does look like he needs help. I didn't think much of it when Ron told me about his suspicions admittedly. Muggles are different from magical folk after all. This isn't just different however."

"No, it's much worse," she said firmly.

Arthur was a fairly observant man. You had to be with Fred and George as your children. With seven children, he liked to think he was a decent father. He knew when to be strict and when to be lenient, to a degree. He knew when comfort was needed, when structure was necessary. He knew his faults and his strengths.

He looked over the last few days, of seeing how Harry acted around him and the family. He began drawing the lines together. How Fred and George were very kind to Harry and observant to his moods, how open Ron was, how Percy was more lenient and attentive.

He hugged Molly tightly and kissed her fully on the lips.

"Arthur!" she gasped, turning red and smacking his chest. "It's rather early for that, don't you think?"

"Not really," he replied with a smile. "However, that was more of a thank you to you."

Her cheeks turned redder. "For what?"

"For raising such good boys. They have done something very good for Harry."

"Oh." She looked embarrassed and pleased at the same time. "Well, they had a good father figure as well." She buried her face into his chest and sighed deeply. "I'm not over-reacting, am I?"

He knew what she meant. "No, I don't think you are. I'll try to dig a bit deeper when I can when I'm at work."

"That'll be good. I'll do my best here with him."

He kissed her forehead. "I have no doubts."