Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling. This fanfiction is for writing practice only and no money will be made.

HMWSB

She transfigured her robes to a nice yellow sundress, an oversized baby blue cloth bag hanging from a strap from her shoulder. Her sandals- hemp dyed blue- were held in place by straps carrying up to her mid-calf. A white, wide-brimmed hat covered in daisies completed her ensemble.

She loved Muggle fashions. When they were dating, she and Arthur had frequently infiltrated the Muggle World, visiting their theme parks, attending 'rock and roll' concerts, and listening to beatnik poetry. She and Arthur had often dreamed of joining a hippy commune. It sounded so liberating, especially after they'd taken a 'toke' on the pipe that was so frequently passed around by Muggle music fans.

Then William had come along and their dreams had taken a backseat to the demands of parenthood. She wouldn't have changed a thing for the world- her children were blessings, every one- but the Wizarding World had far too many constraints on what it considered acceptable behavior.

Why should anyone care how people dressed as long as they weren't carrying on scandalously? How unthinkingly judgmental people could be had never failed to sadden her.

Dumbledore was working to correct some of the ills of wizarding society. It was one of the reasons she and Arthur supported him so, as her brothers had done before her. But she couldn't let the injustice being inflicted on poor Harry stand.

The poor boy deserved better and she would see to it that he got it. And what an ancient twinkling eyed wizard thought about it had nothing to do with anything. Albus Dumbledore may be a great wizard, perhaps even the greatest, but he wasn't a mother.

Lily would want this, she reassured herself. Any mother would want this for her child. She would want this if their positions were reversed and her own babies found themselves orphaned and in need of a mother's love.

Gathering herself, she resolutely pressed a button, a doorbell she dimly remembered it was called, to Number 4 Privet Dr. She would fail neither Harry nor Lily.

As she waited, her eyes tracked the upstairs windows. Her mouth flattened into a hard lime when she saw the evidence of splintered wood where bolts once held bars across a window.

Patience, she reminded herself, trying hard to avoid her face turning red. She needed her patience if she was going to help Harry, not her temper.

When the door finally opened, a tall, too thin woman stood behind it. "Yes?" she demanded, her eyes sweeping over her attire. Molly had a strong feeling that she'd been immediately categorized as something less than desirable.

Molly suppressed a huff. Apparently being a judgmental hypocrite was not a trait exclusive to Wizarding Britain.

Still, she had a role to play. She smiled as pleasantly as she could under the circumstances, which wasn't very, and asked, "Mrs. Dursley, I presume? My name is Molly Weasley. Your nephew is staying with me at present."

In her heart of hearts, she'd hoped what she'd heard from Harry, as supported by her boys, had been wrong. That it had been some tragic misunderstanding.

Petunia Dursley smashed that hope to splinters.

The woman's eyes narrowed. "You're one of them, aren't you? A freak," she spat as she moved to shut the door. "I won't have you here. Away, I say!"

Molly Weasley was many things. Small was not one of them; after all, her boys got their height and broad shoulders from her side of the family. Neither was she prone to doubt when she decided to act. She pushed forward, impacting the door with her shoulder, and physically forced herself past the much thinner woman and into the home.

"How dare you?!" shrieked Mrs. Dursley as she fell backward onto her bony rump, only to become suddenly silent as she found herself staring down the glowing tip of Molly's wand.

"You'll find that daring to do things is not something that my family has any trouble with," she said vindictively as she watched the stick of a woman scrambling backwards, her eyes growing cross-eyed staring at the light emitted from her wand. "I'm here to talk about your nephew."

Something seemed to snap in Harry's aunt. "Vernon!" she half screamed and half sobbed. "The freaks are here!"

A walrus of a man came lumbering from what Molly assumed was the kitchen, if judged by the pie plate in his hand. "What was that, Pet?" he asked, obviously either confused or hard of hearing.

His eyes widened when he saw the wand in her hand.

Molly didn't give him a chance to react. A quick downward slash and the oversized muggle hit the ground, stunned. A spiraling swish caused ropes to appear and tighten around him.

She hadn't spoken a single incantation. Over the more than two decades she'd been a parent, she'd used magic constantly, day in and day out. Without it, she'd never have been able to stop the Burrow from toppling over, or have been able to fix a horde of children their breakfast, lunch and dinner, not to mention constant snacks, keep the home clean, laundry done, and a host of other tasks.

She'd gotten quite good at magic, far better than some purebloods who relied on house elves to take care of their homes and families. She huffed at the thought. Why some women wanted elves raising their children was beyond her. A mother's babies were only young once.

"That should do it," she remarked absentmindedly, her attention turning back to Lily's sister. "Now what to do with you?"

The blood fled Petunia's face as her eyes filled with fear. "What have you done?" she wailed, unable to tear her gaze for her prostrate husband.

Really, could two siblings be any different? It was remarkable. Maybe Lily was adopted?

"Nothing that can't be fixed. At least not yet," she added as an afterthought. "Now can you sit still and engage in a bit of civil conversation or do I need to tie you up like your husband?"

Petunia Dursley visibly swallowed as she lifted herself from the ground. With one last look at her fallen husband, she walked awkwardly to her parlor. "Please, have a seat," she managed to choke out.

It was interesting, Molly thought as her eyes swept around the room, how many pictures adorned the Dursley's walls. They told the story of the Dursley family from when the two first started dating to present date. Early on, pictures of a too heavy, blond boy began to make their appearance. For the last decade or more, they dominated the parlor. Their love of their son was unmistakable.

And not one showed Harry, she observed sadily. Well, that might make this easier than she'd originally thought.

"I want your nephew," she said bluntly, taking a seat opposite the horse faced woman. "You don't want him and I do, so I don't see that we have any reason to drag out this conversation."

With that, she placed a sheet of parchment and a black quill on the parlor table. The thin woman's eyes darted about before resting on the document sitting between the two of them.

"What is that?" she asked, not bothering to deny the accusation that she didn't want Harry.

"A contract," she replied blandly. "One sealed in blood." She smiled as the woman grew even paler. "You give up your rights to Harry and transfer them to me. I'll be his mother from now on."

Arthur had to hand out a few favors to get the solicitors to write it up as quickly as they did. But more than one pureblood had found themselves afoul of Arthur's office and was glad to earn some future leniency in the event one of their client's many cursed artifacts found its way into the Muggle world.

It had grated on his conscience, but he had done it. Her husband agreed with her that Harry Potter deserved far better than he had experienced so far and they were uniquely situated to improve his situation.

Molly and her Aunt Muriel were the last Prewetts. With Fabian and Gideon's murder, House Prewett had no viable heirs. Coupled with Lily Evans being muggleborn, that made all the difference.

Legally speaking, so far as the Wizengamot was concerned, Harry James Potter as a halfblood had only one parent. Muggles and muggleborn had no right to their children under wizarding law. As barbaric as it was, that meant someone who had both access and a talent with potions could take advantage of a halfblood or muggleborn, though there were risks.

Access was not a problem. Harry Potter was presently sleeping soundly in her home.

There were few as skilled with potions as Molly Weasley. Slughorn had even offered an apprenticeship in her seventh year, though becoming pregnant with William put an end to that particular dream.

Not that she regretted anything. Far from it. Her sweet William was brilliant, brave and dashing. He was everything a mother could want in a son and more.

No matter her talent, a Potions Mastery was nothing in comparison.

She'd even gone through a phase in her teenage years and dabbled in some of the darker potions, such as Amortentia. And she'd thoroughly researched adoption potions, hoping that one of her sons could take the Prewett name.

It was not to be. Her children were purebloods going back generations. It would be literally a crime to strip them of their name and family magic. To use a blood adoption potion on a pureblood was considered an Azkaban worthy offense.

On a halfblood or a muggleborn? Not so much. So while it might be frowned on if what she intended to do was ever discovered- and she had no intention of letting it come to light- she at least wouldn't be facing Dementors for it.

Petunia Dursley's gaze looked at the contract, her expression vacillating between fear and hope. Finally, she said, "Albus Dumbledore said he needed to stay here for his protection." She swallowed nervously. "And for ours."

"Why?" Molly demanded. She didn't want to go against Dumbledore. He was a great wizard and knew what he was talking about when it came to magic. Parenting and children, not so much, but magic, yes.

But neither did she want to leave Harry to these . . . animals, she finally decided. The Dursleys were Muggles who rather proved Lucius Malfoy's, and the rest of the pureblood idiots', point.

Petunia didn't answer her and instead walked over to her china hutch. Reaching up high, she pulled a thick letter from the top before handing it wordlessly to Molly.

As she read it, she could feel her temper rising. "Is this true?" she asked, her voice barely under control. "Did he really leave Harry on your doorstep and tell you your sister had been killed in a letter?"

Seeing the stick thin woman nod, her fists tightened in rage. Albus Dumbledore had much to answer for. But that was for later. She still had her task.

For Harry, she reminded herself again. The boy needed a loving mother.

Molly Weasley was no expert on wards. She hadn't even felt any as she entered the Dursley residence. But if what was said in the letter was true, the wards were more for the Dursley's benefit than Harry's. After all, he carried his mother's blood protection with him everywhere he went. Staying with the Dursleys extended a portion of that protection to them.

Under normal circumstances she had no doubt that Lily would want her sister's family protected. But not at the expense of having her son starved, beaten and isolated. She didn't doubt that Harry was the most important thing to Lily. Everything else was secondary. The Dursleys had lost any moral claim that they were deserving of that secondary protection long ago.

"Well, then," she said, her voice quivering with anger. "You and your family can take your chances with me here and now," at this she raised her wand, the tip glowing a fiery red, "or you can take your chances with wizards who may or may not show up in the future." She leveled her wand so it was pointed between Petunia Dursley's eyes. "Decide now."

It was nonsense, of course. A magically binding contract could not be coerced with magic. The contract simply wouldn't take. But the threat of magic? That was another story entirely.

Petunia did not know that, being a muggle who Albus had chosen to keep in the dark. Not that Molly cared; the woman was contemptible. What mattered was that she signed.

She did. Her hand trembled the entire time as the quill drew blood from her and onto parchment. Then Molly did the same. In a matter of moments, the wet redness turned brown and the parchment briefly flashed gold.

"Good," Molly said, standing. Peering down at the frightened woman, she offered a small measure of mercy. "It would be wise of you and your family to leave. Change your name. Get out of the country. Let no one know where you've gone." She tapped the contract against her thigh, before absentmindedly placing it in her handbag. "If the Death Eaters find you, they'll kill you and yours for being Lily's sister and Harry's aunt. If the Order finds you, they'll kill you for how you and yours have treated Harry," she lied, hoping to motivate the malicious woman to act to save her family.

While there were many magicals who would be moved to vigilante justice if they heard how Harry had been treated, the witches and wizards of the Order were not one of them. They'd obey Albus despite their misgivings.

She was no longer sure she counted herself among their number. What she'd learned over the last day had shaken her faith in the great Albus Dumbledore.

She pushed those confused thoughts aside. She had a plan and an understanding husband. It was enough.

There weren't many men who would let their wives adopt a boy who wasn't their own. But Arthur was a good man who understood that Harry needed a mother. He'd understood, just as she knew that Lily would have understood.

She waved her wand, dismissing the ropes from around Vernon Dursleys prone body. She didn't bother Enervating him. He'd wake in time, preferably when she was far away.

"I wouldn't delay, if I were you. The protections around this house won't last more than a couple of days. At most."

With that she left the Dursleys. When she'd turned a corner and was out of sight, she apparated to the Burrow. To her family, which now included Harry Potter.

At least legally. Though shortly, he'd also be her son by magic and blood.