Chapter 3

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

Harry Potter hated being the center of attention.

He hated it even more when that attention was given the day after he'd broken down in tears in front of his best mate and his best mate's mum. It was humiliating.

He knew his family hadn't treated him well. The opposite was true. He only had to see other children receiving love and praise from their parents to know that how his aunt and uncle treated him wasn't normal.

It had hurt, but he'd endured. He kept everything bottled up and put one foot in front of another. He mastered the stiff upper lip for which the British were so famous.

He succeeded mostly by pretending that nothing was wrong. Hogwarts had been a blessing in that regard. He could spend ten months out of every year pretending that the Dursleys didn't even exist.

Then one unexplainable cry-fest later- he was such a baby, it was pathetic - everyone in the world knew about his problems.

The entire Weasley family knew that he wasn't loved. That he wasn't worthy of being loved. That he was a freak, something to be ashamed of. That the best he could hope for was to be ignored.

He wasn't stupid, no matter what his grades said. He knew he avoided attention because he'd been conditioned into equating attention with pain and humiliation. It was why he hated being the center of attention.

Like now. Nothing good would come of this, he was sure, warily eyeing the bubbling potion that was set before him.

"I've spoken with your aunt, Harry," Molly Weasley said, her husband standing behind her with a supportive hand on her shoulder. "We've come to an agreement."

He felt his stomach drop. When he'd woken, the Burrow had been in turmoil. Arthur was making breakfast, an unheard of event, as Molly was out running errands.

From what he gathered, Molly never missed making a meal for her family. Her absence had thrown the house into chaos.

With good reason, he'd learned. Arthur was a horrible cook. He burnt toast and couldn't scramble an egg or slice a tomato to save his life. It had gotten so bad that Harry had felt compelled to take over.

The twins had been so grateful that one of them, George, he thought, had even proposed marriage.

Another humiliation. He knew that most boys couldn't cook. That he could, just underscored his freakishness. But it was that or let the people who had taken him in be forced to choke down unpalatable food.

So he gathered his courage, and had put together a proper English breakfast. Though he almost wished he hadn't. Fortunately, Ron hadn't noticed the teasing he'd been subjected to, so focused was he on inhaling his plate.

The most embarrassing thing was not the twins' reaction, but Ginny's. She kept sighing while fluttering her eyelashes at him. He wasn't sure what that meant but it couldn't be good. Maybe he should suggest that she see a doctor?

"Yes, ma'am?" he finally responded when he realized that everyone was watching him waiting for him to say something. He'd been so embarrassed thinking about his situation that he'd spaced out.

Molly looked at him with some concern. "Your aunt has transferred your physical custody to me," she said, waving a piece of parchment in the air. "She's also agreed that I can adopt you."

He heard a rushing sound in his ears, even as his vision seemed to focus to an immeasurable degree. The twins were staring at each other in some sort of silent communication. Ron's eyes grew rounder as he sat next to Harry, his jaw hanging open. Percy looked somber as his gaze alternated between Harry and his parents. For some reason, Arthur's grip tightened on his wife's shoulder.

Ginny again had the strangest reaction. One second she was smiling and the next she looked like she wanted to cry. And then she vacillated between the two over and over again.

"Excuse me?" he finally managed. This couldn't be real. "What do you mean?"

Molly was sitting in the high wingback chair adjacent to the old frayed couch. Next to Harry. Her hand reached out and took his. "It means I'd be your mother. It means that you won't go back to the Dursleys. Not ever."

"But Professor Dumbledore says I must," he heard himself say, as if through a distant tunnel. This couldn't be real, he repeated to himself silently.

Molly's gaze hardened. "Albus Dumbledore is the Headmaster of your school. He is not your guardian and not your family. Where you live is something to be decided between your aunt and I." Her look softened. "And you, of course."

How could he respond to that? There had to be a catch, some trick. "I'd like to stay here," he ventured, hesitantly. "But I don't want to be a bother." Something Vernon always complained about, the cost of feeding him, came to mind. "I can pay." He saw Molly's eyes narrow again. "To help out, I mean."

"Nonsense," she replied brusquely. "If you agree, you'll be my son. And you won't be a bother. And eight can live just as cheaply as seven. Not that it matters," she added hastily.

"Cor!" Ron exclaimed excitedly. "Harry, say yes! We won't be just best mates, we'll be brothers!" He gave Harry a push, causing him to rock to one side. "You'll make a proper Weasley."

Arthur cleared his throat. "Harry would be family," he corrected, seemingly struggling with his words. "But he wouldn't be a Weasley. More correctly, he'd still be a Potter but he'd also be a Prewett."

"What?" Ron asked, confusion etched in his face.

It was Percy who clarified things, to Harry's relief. He had been growing as confused as Ron. "Making Harry a Weasley would be illegal. Our House does not lack heirs. So dad can't adopt him. But mum can, making him a Prewett as well as a Potter," he said pompously. "It's not illegal, at least it isn't if blood relatives consent, even if some might look down on us because of the implied," his pomposity left him as he fidgeted looking for the words, "lack of fidelity." He scowled. "At least so far as the law is concerned."

When Percy stopped talking, he was looking everywhere but at his mother. Harry didn't know what to think. What did he mean?

"Does that mean Harry wouldn't be my brother?" Ginny asked hopefully.

"No, little sister of mine," one of the twins started.

The other picked up the thought. "He'd be our half brother. Through mum. Who's still married to dad."

Ginny's face fell, even as the twins shared another look. It honestly creeped Harry out how they could communicate without speaking. He wondered if it was magic, or something that all twins could do.

"Some might have a problem with that," the other continued.

"But I say bugger them," the other concluded, looking fierce. "The only people whose opinions matter are in this room."

Ron looked as lost as Harry felt. "But he'd still be our brother, right?" Seeing everyone nod in agreement, he leaned back into the couch and slapped Harry on the back. "There you go then. Say yes, drink the potion, and let's go play Quidditch in the orchard."

Harry was just about to say yes, Quidditch did sound like a brilliant idea and it would allow him to get out of this room where everyone was looking at him, when another thought entered his mind. He didn't know his parents, his only memory being from the Mirror of Erised, but he cherished at least the idea of them and didn't want to lose them.

He fidgeted. "Would I still be a Potter?" he whispered, worried. He didn't want to go back to the Dursleys. Being Ron's brother sounded amazing. Too good to be true, really. But he wouldn't give up his parents.

Molly's hand squeezed his knee reassuringly. "Yes, dear. James Potter would still be your father, in law, blood and magic. I would become your mother, so far as law, blood and magic was concerned." She saw his unasked question, and visibly hesitated as if choosing her words carefully. "Lily would still be your mother, dear. She will always be your mother, her blood courses through your veins and her magic nurtured your own. That can never change. Think of it as if you were to have three parents, not just two."

Harry blinked as he turned her words over in his mind. "What about law," he asked. "Would she still be my mother under the law?"

"Muggle law, yes. Wizarding law, no," Arthur answered. He must have seen something in Harry's face, as he hurriedly continued, "It's wrong, Harry, I agree. But it's the reality of the law as it currently stands. Muggleborn parents don't have the same legal rights to magical children as do purebloods or even halfbloods."

"I don't want to lose her," he said miserably. He kept his head down and refused to meet anyone's eyes. Which was difficult, considering that Ron was right next to him grumbling.

"You won't, dear." Molly said, trying to reassure him. "Think of it this way, I'll never be your mother so far as the Muggle Queen's laws are concerned. That will always be Lily. At best, I'd be a guardian or adoptive parent. But Lily doesn't have parental rights so far as the Wizengamot is concerned because your father was a pureblood. I'm allowed to stand in her place, if you and your aunt both agree, and she has. And that means that no one can take you from us, not even Professor Dumbledore. The Burrow will always be your home."

Harry wavered. His parents would still be his parents. He'd never have to see his aunt and uncle again. Ron would be his brother. He'd have a huge family, something he'd always wanted. In the end, it was no contest.

He nicked his thumb, put a few drops into the goblet, and drank the bubbling potion that had been resting on the table before them.

After, he couldn't stop smiling, even if he had to endure the whooping and hugs that the combined Weasley family subjected him to by way of celebration.

The one discordant note was Ginny. She kept crying and telling him how happy she was to be his sister, though it confused him. Mostly as it didn't sound like she believed what she was saying, though why he felt that way he couldn't say.

Girls were mental, he finally decided as the Weasley brood led him out to the orchard.

Quidditch was, as always, brilliant. He soon put his confused thoughts out of his mind.