Mulishly pulling his scattered plans together by dint of sheer will meant it took Harry three days to realise he'd caught Percy doing underage magic.

The thought struck him like lightning in the middle of a conversation with Fred, and he honestly couldn't say how the talk ended.

" – can spare seven Sickles," Fred agreed, observing Harry's parchment thoughtfully. "George and I figure that's pretty good odds for us, so we've pulled together most of our savings. You sure you can convince everyone?"

Harry hoped he responded politely, although the shock of his realisation meant he couldn't actually be sure. Holding the parchment and quill steady suddenly took his whole concentration. Fred – Seven Galleons, he noted down carefully, his hand only shaking a tiny amount.

Fred eyed him strangely. "Oi. We're trusting you with our money here, Harry. Are you sure dear ol' Mum won't shut this thing down?"

"Hrm? Probably," Harry smiled, still in shock. Percy, of all people. "Just when you think you understand everyone…"

"Harry?" Fred's voice repeated, this time with a little edge to it. "Hey! If Mum figures you're running some kind of gambling ring she'll confiscated everything."

Harry blinked slowly, and rolled his parchment up. "People can constantly surprise you, Fred. Don't you worry."

"Hey!" Fred called after him, standing tense for some reason as Harry turned to leave. "Hey! This is Mum we're talking about here! Harry!"

His mind busy on other things, Harry merely waved goodbye absently and sat in a conveniently located armchair.

His thoughts were a muddy swirl in his mind; apparently the sudden realignment of his universe was taking a heavy toll on his Occlumency.

Harry frowned for a moment to breathe deeply, and turn the memory over in his mind.

His hands uncurled from around the parchment, his heartbeat slowed, and for a long moment of time, the living room itself seemed to fade away. Loud voices receded, and there was a moment of stillness and slowness of time, and the illusion of silver threads in his mind. Harry breathed out.

There was a time, not so long ago, when he wouldn't even have tried to use Occlumency in a room with other people in it, but he was proud to say that his focus and concentration had improved tremendously over the months. He still wasn't good at multi-tasking with it, of course.

Harry blinked his eyes, his pupils returning to normal size as a concerned looking red-head leaned over him on the sofa.

"George!" Harry smiled, his equilibrium more-or-less restored. "Fred and I were just discussing your contribution to the round-robin chess competition. He said you're in?"

The twin frowned, a strange and thoughtful thing, before his face cleared suspiciously fast and he smiled oddly. "Sure thing, Harry. Fred says he's spoken to you already, so I thought I'd let you know I can put up thirteen Sickles, if you could answer just one question?"

Harry leaned forward. "Yeah?"

"We were wondering," the twin said slowly, "how you're planning on approaching Mum about all this. You realise if it comes off too much like a gambling ring, she'll take all the money away."

"Oh, not a problem." Harry relaxed. "I've already got her okay. I told her I found you all a little enthusiastic and boisterous and I'm struggling to get to know you all. A one-on-one game of chess seems like just the perfect thing."

"And the rest?" the twin enquired.

"Seemed like a nice, safe competition where Ron and Ginny weren't unreasonably disadvantaged, and couldn't possibly get injured," Harry smirked. "And would also help Neville and Hermione feel comfortable. The pool of money is just…incentive…to get you older folks involved with us kids."

"That's," the twin murmured softly, "not actually too bad, ickle-Harrikins. We might make a prankster of you yet." He checked himself. "Of course, you have to mostly mean it to get anything by her, so perhaps your pure aura helped you out."

"Probably," Harry agreed, and added George's name to the list.

As the older boy wandered off, Harry looked down at his parchment with pride. His cunning plan to buy Ron a new wand – the danger and chaos of second year being anticipated and averted quite easily – was coming together well. A few apologies for "missing Ron's birthday", a quiet word to Hermione and Neville, and a chess tournament money pool that Ron was practically guaranteed to win would all add up nicely to cover the cost of 14 inches of willow and unicorn hair.

A chess competition would also be his best chance to have a different type of conversation with Molly, since their usual morning discussions tended to focus around household magic. But it was vitally important Harry managed to organise the Diagon Alley shopping trip correctly. His plans for the year depended on it.

Harry found himself opposite her, on either side of a battered old chess board, the following evening.

In between the looping thoughts and plans, and shock about Percy, whirling through his mind, he had also been arguing with the chess pieces again, which may or may not have had something to do with his rather miserable showing.

"Go on, Harry dear," Mrs Weasley beamed. "Well, when you're ready." She raised her voice to be heard over the pieces, and also the din coming from the other group in the living room, where Ron and Percy were surrounded by the twins.

While Fred and George were apparently quite scathing of Percy's moves against their younger brother, Mrs Weasley herself scowled at the noise of the well-loved pieces on the board in front of her.

"You stop that," she snapped softly, whacking one of Harry's knights on the head with a quick hand. "I'll not have that language in my home, even if you are from Great-Uncle Caspar."

To Harry's astonishment, his chess pieces settled down into sullen silence, leaving him to venture an attempt at subtlety while he prodded forth a pawn.

"So, I was wondering if it would be possible to visit the Alley on a Wednesday?"

Mrs Weasley raised an eyebrow encouragingly, before deftly instructing a bishop to attack.

"A Wednesday, dear? We do have to run things by Hermione's parents before we decide anything, and I did have tentative plans…"

Harry interrupted earnestly. "So, I thought that midweek might be quieter than the weekends to shop, and I figured it would probably be best to meet Hermione's parents without them getting lost amongst all the wizarding folks." He smiled at Mrs Weasley, shoving forward another pawn before continuing. "I figured it would be easier to Mr and Mrs Granger to come through the Cauldron if there are less crowds, and Ron did mention that you might like to catch up with some friends?"

"Well now," Mrs Weasley mused. "You do raise some interesting points, Harry dear…" Chess pieces crashed against each other while they spoke.

He rushed on. "I don't know if you're a fan of Gilderoy Lockhart? Because there's an advertisement in the Prophet about some kind of book signing, and I thought I saw you looking at one of his other books the other day, so I just thought –"

"Oh, look at that," Mrs Weasley interrupted. "You're three moves away from checkmate. I suppose I resign."

Harry looked blankly at the board.

She continued. "I was rather distracted by your persuasion. What a lovely game, that was, Harry. It was a pleasure."

"Um, yes?" Harry ventured, looking down at what was really supposed to be the early stages of a chess game. "Are you sure? I mean…"

"You make some compelling points," Mrs Weasley leaned over and patted him gently on the cheek. "I'm sure we can work something out. Perhaps Augusta could also be persuaded to have an early morning and get some shopping in before the crowds…" She subsided into a thoughtful mutter, and – chess game aside – Harry felt smug in his success. The important things were happening as he wanted.

The he leaned over to contemplate the board, and piece by piece return them to their squares.

"I didn't know you were such a fan of GIlderoy Lockhart," said a voice from behind him, and Harry swallowed a curse as he jerked in surprise.

"Hermione!" he grimaced. "I thought everybody was watching Ron. How long have you been there?"

"Long enough," the brunette grinned, and bent to help fix up the board. "Don't tell Ron now, but that didn't seem to be your usual game. You must really want to see this guy an awful lot."

"…no, not really."

"Are you telling me you think you might have won if Mrs Weasley hadn't suddenly found more important things to do?" She huffed. "It's me you're talking to. It's all okay."

"Well actually, I…"

She leaned forward conspiratorially. "I've read his definitive autobiography myself, Harry. He's quite the accomplished wizard. Not to mention handsome."

"I promise you I never even considered that!"

She looked at him reflectively. "I…see. Well, if that's what you say."

"I do!" Harry really didn't want to be misunderstand as a fan of the fraud, especially not by his friends.

Hermione, meanwhile, returned to replacing the chess pieces and slid into the seat opposite him. Behind her sounded the raucous cries of the Weasley twins, and the crackle and pop of the fire: Mrs Weasley was apparently not wasting any time, but firecalling Neville's grandmother immediately.

"Well," Hermione continued, gesturing at Harry to play first, "I certainly think he's a very handsome wizard."

Harry remembered her second-year crush, and smirked. "Do you?"

Hermione made another move on the old chessboard, sliding her black pawn forward two places. "Oh, he's very pretty," she dismissed, "but it's not just his looks I admire." Having made her move, she looked up at Harry's face intently. "It's rather uncommon to see such a highly trained wizard, but he's gone above and beyond that, you know?"

"…really?"

"It's a rare thing, Harry, that someone will dedicate their life to helping out people who need it," Hermione insisted. "Just fancy, he's travelled Europe and Asia. He's spent time wandering the Mongolian plains, just because of a rumour of a cursed mountain god, and dedicated years of his life to researching a cure for lycanthropy."

She looked at him significantly. "I really admire people who like to help others. Effective competence is an uncommon thing, and the empathy to actually use it is even more rare."

"I've heard he makes good money off his books," Harry tried, absently trying to save a rook from danger.

Hermione shrugged, and her knight smashed down on Harry's piece with a clatter. "Who could blame him for that? Perhaps if more people come to admire Mr Lockhart, they might be inspired to help people too."

"You think?"

"Check," she murmured. "I really do Harry. I think that there are some special people who just go through the world doing what they think is necessary – ooh, nice save – and without realising it, they challenge the people around them to be better too."

Harry refrained from answering due to a few minutes of intense concentration. After he finally lost his second bishop, he continued the conversation. "You think that Lockhart is the type to lead others to greater heights?"

Hermione shrugged, smiled, and captured another pawn. "I certainly believe that he's so widely admired for a reason."

Harry coughed.

"Are you okay? I'm really looking forward to reading his latest book," Hermione added. "Did you know he brings a new book out each year?"

Harry thought dark thoughts, but unfortunately, Hermione continued.

"I imagine having real life experience against genuine dark creatures and curses and whatnot must add a real, authentic urgency to his stories. Check, again."

Harry tried to save his king; Hermione pressed onward. He wondered absently if his game play really was worse than usual today, of if everyone in the house – aside from Neville, perhaps – were simply chess demons. From the sounds of it, Fred and George had an awful lot to say about Percy's game, still ongoing. Apparently he and Ron were significantly more competitive than Harry.

He wondered if perhaps he was thinking too much about all his other plans. And Percy. He still didn't know what to think about Percy, either.

Imitating great equanimity, Harry moved one of his three remain pawns onward, hoping against hope he might get one to the end of the board. To his endless dismay, Mrs Weasley chose that moment to pop her head back into the conversation with a cheerfulness that grated on his nerves.

"Harry, Hermione dear. You'll be every so pleased to know that Madam Longbottom believes it possible to clear her schedule for that Wednesday," Harry stifled a snort, "and so all that remains is to contact your parents, Hermione. Would you like to borrow Errol?"

Harry lost his chess game relatively quickly after that, as Hermione prioritised finishing quickly to go write a letter to her folks and soundly thrashed him. He wandered over to the other game to see it wrap up. To Harry's lack of surprise – but apparently to the astonishment of everyone else – Ron managed to maintain his dominance throughout the whole game and defeat his older brother.

Harry stood there in the living room, fire warm and glowing and the lights bright, and felt the warmth and life in the house as the evening wrapped up. The disbelieving shouts of Fred and George rang cheerfully throughout the building, Percy's surprisingly graceful loss achieved, and the bright and curious eyes of Ginny caught every movement in the room.

It would be a good year.

He found himself sitting opposite Percy himself a day later, about to start his fourth game on the same old blue and cream chessboard, while Fred and Hermione get competitive over their game close by.

"Ugh. His bishop's exposed." Percy's low voice caught Harry's attention.

"I thought you weren't any good at chess though?"

Percy looked offended. "Excuse me?"

Harry flinched. "…Sorry? I, uh, was just under the impression, Ron somehow made me think…and with what the twins said yesterday, I just assumed…"

"Oh." Percy smiled a thin little smile, and moved a white pawn forward to begin their own game. "Ron's been better than I at chess for years, now. I'd appreciate it if you didn't allow his abilities to minimise my own."

"Sorry, really." Harry moved his own piece. "Hey Percy?"

"Yes?"

Like a dam breaking, Harry's curiosity finally reached its limit and words poured forth. "I'm sorry, it's been on my mind, but…how come you came with me the other day? You know, with the presents?"

Percy raised an eyebrow in polite enquiry. "It seemed like an interesting learning opportunity."

"Well yeah – and wasn't it interesting about your dad and Bill? But what I meant was, you know," he looked around quickly to see if Molly Weasley was in the room, "the other bit? With the magic?"

"Oh! Yes, I see what you mean." Percy gave the room a quick and nervous scan also. "That bit. You feel it is unworthy behaviour of a prefect such as myself?"

The small part of Harry's mind that wasn't quivering for answers noticed that neither of them were playing a good game of chess, pieces being placed willy-nilly. "Well, you could put it that way, I suppose. I thought you were a pretty black and white guy."

Percy leaned forward. "It all comes down to my understanding of the Ministry in the end. It performs a vital function, I should think."

Harry reflected on the family conversation from a few days ago. "Well yes. Ministry laws certainly have their place. But I didn't think you would be someone who would…ignore…rules like that, even if they did get in the way of good learning moments."

With a prod of his finger, Percy directed a pawn to jump forward and destroy one of Harry's. Both boys ignored the blistering insults that Harry's pawn shouted before it got knocked out; if Molly Weasley had been present, she would have slapped it quiet, but Percy simply spoke on. "I should hope I would never ignore rules for my own convenience, I'll thank you kindly. Even though we might not be aware of them, most rules have been placed there for our safety. A little inconvenience here or there – "

"But in this case?"

"Ah." Percy sighed. "If you must know, I did have to have a discussion about it with my father once."

Harry spared a thought for Arthur Weasley writing his own loopholes into laws. "What did he say?"

"All societies not only run, but positively thrive, on rules. They govern social expectations, delineate norms, and keep us safe, of course. Together they are part of what creates our culturally accepted practises."

"Yes?"

Percy moved another piece and spoke quietly. "Don't tell my brothers, if you please: There are some rules, believe it or not, that are simply more guidelines than imperatives."

Harry gaped.

"I know, I know. Coming from me," Percy spoke with wry amusement. "I believe my father spoke to you about the nature of muggle rules? And their herd mentality?"

Harry pursed his lips. "I…yes? Perhaps not in those exact words, I don't think."

The familiar pomposity of Percy's voice faded away into what Harry could only describe as enthusiasm. "Well, in the wizarding world there are some that are positively impossible to enforce because of the very nature of our culture. And so we must read, not into the letter of the law, but its spirit."

"Percy?"

"It is me," Percy assured him. "It's all part and parcel of knowing the rules very well, you must understand. Er, you will do me the honour of not repeating this near Fred or George, won't you?

"Of course," Harry assured him. "The spirit?"

"Indeed." Between chess moves, Percy's hands began to flit about in excitement, illustrating who knows what with movement and energy. "The misuse of magic laws govern the secrecy of our culture – not to reveal ourselves to the muggles, not to make profit off their naïve desire for quality – and also to ensure accidents occur around people who can resolve them. Children, for example, should never attempt magic alone."

"That makes a certain amount of sense." Harry acknowledge he was mostly going to lose this chess game too, and withdrew most of his focus from the game.

"It makes perfect sense, if you please. The underage magic regulations, you see, govern the student body as a whole, taking into account that not all students have the context in which to practice in their own time. The law states that, except in mitigating circumstances, all students should follow the generalisation."

"So…"

"So ultimately," Percy continued, eyes afire, "a measured and responsible oversight by parents of their children during holidays is an accepted interpretation of the underage restrictions."

Absently, Harry knocked over his king and shook Percy's hand. "Good game. But your mother doesn't let you guys do magic in the holidays."

"Many thanks," Percy accepted the win with good grace. "Well obviously. Effective supervision is active supervision, after all. A child doing magic in another room – don't mention experimental magic, please, for the sake of my sanity – is not supervised." Percy fixed Harry to his seat with a particularly piercing stare, his pompous prefectly poise returning. "You've met my siblings: some need no encouragement."

Harry grimaced.

"As long as the registered wand is within wandlight of an adult wizard, the Trace overlooks it," Percy muttered quickly. "If that's not an acknowledgement of cultural exceptions, I don't know what is. I've come to this conclusion by dint of a number of conversations with my father, and some very focussed hours of research in Hogwarts library, I'll have you know. When I ask you not to pass this information on, I am sincere."

"Oh, obviously!" Harry rushed to assure him. "I'm really honoured that you're sharing this with me, Percy – "

"It is not advertised or common knowledge," Percy insisted.

"I… thanks." Harry pondered. "Perhaps we could chat a bit more once I've had time to think about things a bit?"

Percy nodded slowly. "I would be amenable to that."

Having apparently said his piece, Percy became apparently content to replace the chess board in silence, before nodding silently to Harry and departing. Harry sat there, still in the same armchair, and found himself pondering the strange similarities between Arthur Weasley and his most unlikely of sons.

Arthur, Harry had vaguely come to realise, might be poor, but was in a more powerful position that Ron seemed to have guessed. He was in the position to write his own laws, for Merlin's sake. Harry spared a thought for the little blue Anglia sitting in the shed outside. He was in the position to write his own loopholes into laws. That spoke to a more cunning mind that Harry had previously assumed. Perhaps he should talk a bit more with Arthur Weasley too.

Fred and George certainly seemed to have inherited some of that cunning. Harry wondered if they focused so much on potions research during the holidays because it wasn't associated with underage magic in the same way that wandwork was. They'd found a loophole in their own way, Harry supposed.

But even Percy, prim, proper Prefect Percy with his rule-abiding ways, was willing to follow the spirit of the letter rather than the law on occasion.

Perhaps all his sons took after Arthur, in more ways than were obvious, Harry pondered. He wondered if he was shaped more by the shadow of his parents than he had previously assumed. Or perhaps the Dursleys…

Harry shut that thought down.

It was a good thing that he had never planned on winning the chess tournament, since Harry had a sinking feeling he had a lot to think about over the next few days.