A Harry Situation
By Jill Weber/ Jelsemium
Characters copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and used without permission or intent to make a profit.
Chapter 15: Brace Yourselves
Rated PG for Sirius language
Welcome to the world, David Gordon Rowling Murray!

(Sorry for the long delay. I hope you have a nice chunk of time right now, because this puppy is approximately the size of three regular chapters. No foolin' and NO CLIFFHANGERS, Lan!)

Grangers: Be Prepared:
One of the most fascinating parts of watching the wards being put up was the change that came over Professor Dumbledore. Inside the house, he'd been his usual Merlin-esque self. Outside, he became a rather shabby, but friendly looking fellow dressed in coveralls.

A yellow van with a picture of a giant white bee was sitting in front of the Grangers' house. On the side of it was a sign: "White Bumblebee Exterminators."

"Why White Bumblebee?"

"That's my name, in modern English," Dumbledore said. "Albus is from the Latin for 'white' and Dumbledore is the old English word for 'bumblebee.'

"Nice van," Rupert said. "I didn't know that wizards drove."

"You're forgetting the infamous flying Ford Anglia," Emma said with amusement. "Is it still roaming around in the Forbidden Forest?"

"That's flying, not driving," Rupert said with dignity.

Emma rolled her eyes at him.

"To the best of my knowledge, the Weasley's Ford Anglia is still out there," Dumbledore quickly put in to head off an argument. He wondered if this was how Harry felt with Ron and Hermione. "I bought this vehicle at an estate sale. It is less conspicuous and considerably more comfortable than riding around on a broomstick. Plus, pest control provides an excellent excuse for wandering around in your yard, should any of your neighbors prove to be the nosy type."

"Ah, of course," Rupert said. "What if our neighbors want pest inspections, too?"

"Then they shall get them," Dumbledore said seriously. "In fact, they will all be getting a measure of protection whether they ask for it or not, especially against rats."

To Rupert and Emma, it looked like Dumbledore was working with a gizmo with a lot of dials and buttons. To Hermione, Dumbledore was working with his wand and a phoenix feather.

When they got back inside, Emma said: "Would anybody like more tea or soda? Oh, Professor Dumbledore, have you ever tried a root beer float?"

"Please, Albus will be fine," Dumbledore insisted. "No, I have never had a root beer float. Tell me, how do you float root beer?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, Moppet, we're having a sugar fest today," Rupert said.

"DAD! Don't call me that!" Hermione's face went the color of cherry soda.

Dumbledore grinned. "I've heard worse terms," he said. "I confess, my own parents had a rather embarrassing nickname for me when I was younger."

"Really? What was it?" Hermione asked.

"I'll never tell," Dumbledore said. "As I said, it was embarrassing."

"You won't tell Ron and Harry, will you?" Hermione asked anxiously.

Dumbledore grinned mischievously. "I'm afraid that old man such as myself may occasionally let something slip, Miss Granger."

"I'm such toast," Hermione moaned, burying her face in her hands. She muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'boys are prats.'

"Now, for those root beer floats," Emma said. "I was introduced to these when I was visiting the States. They're very simple, just put a scoop or two of vanilla ice cream into a glass and cover with root beer."

The adults trooped into the kitchen for a quick demonstration.

Hermione uncovered her face and followed. Under her breath, she muttered, "I can't believe they're serving so much sugar today. They've been holding out on me!"

"Speaking of holding out, would you care to elaborate on how your teeth were 'accidentally' shrunk sometime during the last school year? Even though we specifically said that we didn't want you to alter your appearance by magic?" Rupert replied sotto voce.

Hermione shut up.

If Dumbledore heard the exchange, he gave no sign of it.

Hermione accepted a root beer float, even though she didn't particularly like them. If her parents were going to relax their long standing anti-sugar rules, Hermione wasn't going to do anything to discourage them.

"Delicious," Dumbledore proclaimed of the root beer float. "I'll have to introduce our kitchen help to these." He was careful not to say 'elves', lest Hermione be offended.

As they sipped on their floats, Dumbledore said, "Do you have any questions about the protections?"

"Won't the wards trigger the Watch Outs?" Hermione asked.

"No, I've set these wards to work with the Watch Outs," Dumbledore said. "If the wards are breached, your watch will give you a warning."

"How? Will it buzz or something?" Emma asked.

"They'll yell, "WATCH OUT!" very loudly." Dumbledore appeared uncharacteristically uncertain. "I suppose that will be rather difficult to explain to any Muggle onlooker."

"Not really," Rupert said cheerfully. "Watches do all sorts of unreasonable things nowadays. We'll simply tell anyone who hears that it's the latest in alarm watches."

Dumbledore smiled. "Ah, good, that relieves my mind on that score."

Emma had another concern. "What about Hermione?" she said. "Certainly she can't use a Watch Out, can she? And if she has another episode like the one with the owl getting tangled in her hair, we could wind up taking an unscheduled trip." She managed a grin. "Not that I have any objects to the destination. I'd love to see Hogwarts and a trip to the headmaster's office would be a new experience for me."

"I haven't been there, either," Hermione said, looking at Dumbledore a bit reproachfully.

"My apologies, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said. "If I had known you craved being in trouble, I'd have arranged a tête-à-tête."

Hermione sighed. "I don't crave to be in trouble, I just can't seem to avoid it." She heaved an especially dramatic sigh. "And I used to be so rule-abiding before I got mixed up with certain boys who shall remain nameless but whose initials are Harry Potter and Ron Weasley."

The adults chuckled.

"To get back to your question, Emma, I'm afraid that the Watch Outs won't help you much while your daughter is in residence. They are only a temporary measure for this summer. By next year I hope to have a better plan in action. As I said before, Percy Weasley has an idea that has a lot of potential." Dumbledore smiled at Hermione. "Arthur has also arranged for your daughter and his daughter to have provisional licenses while they travel. They will be permitted to use magic in case of emergency."

"I expect getting attacked should qualify," Rupert said quietly.

"Yes, it would. I will say, Rupert, I would not want to be among the attackers. Your daughter isn't fully qualified, but she is quite formidable."

Hermione blushed and changed the subject. "Headmaster? If we run into any strong magic on our trip to Bulgaria, Mum could still wind up in your office. I might even wind up in there with her. That could prove rather embarrassing."

"How would you wind up in Dumbledore's office?" Emma asked.

"If I'm touching you when the Portkey is activated, I'll go with you," Hermione said.

"I'll remember that, if I should need to make a quick getaway," Emma said. "It could prove very useful. Albus, I do hope your staff is used to unusual interruptions."

"Quite frankly, Emma, people appearing out of thin air hardly qualifies as an 'unusual interruption' at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said. "And, I assure you, you are welcome in my office at any time. However, there is a way to avoid accidental trips. That is to deactivate the Watch Outs. In fact, they are deactivated now."

The Grangers made wry faces.

"That rather defeats the purpose of having them," Hermione said. "They will only be useful if we see that trouble is going in time to activate them."

"That, unfortunately, is the true of a lot of defenses," Dumbledore said. "Any good defense requires…"

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" bellowed Hermione.

Her parents jumped.

"Alastor would be so proud of you," Dumbledore smiled. "I have some Pocket Sneakoscopes and some Hand Foe Mirrors for you and your mother and Miss Ginny Weasley, who I understand is going with you."

"Really? And how did you hear about that?" Rupert asked slyly.

Dumbledore grinned. It wasn't often somebody hands you a straight line like that and Rupert obviously knew what was coming. "A little bird told me," Dumbledore said.

Emma and Hermione groaned.

"Speaking of little owls, and speaking of Pigwidgeon getting tangled in my hair," Hermione said suddenly. "Something has been bothering me for a while, but I keep getting distracted before I can put my finger on it. When we spoke on the phone, Harry said that Pigwidgeon rammed into him and knocked him out."

"Was Pigwidgeon hurt?"

"No, and that's what's been bothering me," Hermione said. "Pigwidgeon is too light to just knock Harry out. There must be another reason why he passed out."

"Do you think something else hit him?" Dumbledore asked. "And he just blamed Pigwidgeon because the owl was there when he woke up?"

Hermione blinked. "I hadn't thought about that," she admitted. "I thought maybe he was sick or something. He said that he had white streaks in his hair." She looked anxious. "I was looking in my copy of 'Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions' and both fainting and white hair could be the sign of any number of illnesses."

Dumbledore looked grave. "Yes, you have a point, Miss Granger," he said. "Molly Weasley is also concerned about his health. Harry will be staying at the Burrow for most of August. Molly will arrange for him to have a complete checkup while he's staying with them."

"Wonderful, thank you." She felt relieved, but really, she told herself, she should have known that Dumbledore would be three steps ahead of her.

"Good, I'm sure we'll all feel a lot better once Harry is at the Weasleys," Rupert said.

"I think I can set your mind at ease on another score," Dumbledore added. "Arthur Weasley was a bit concerned about his daughter traveling at this time. I believe that he's made arrangements to ensure her protection." He looked over his half-moon glasses. "I expect Miss Weasley's protector will be looking after Emma and Hermione as well."

"A protector?" Emma asked. "So, Ginny's father is sending a fully qualified wizard… or witch… to Bulgaria with us?"

"Yes, he is."

"How did he manage to arrange that?" Rupert asked. This time inadvertently handing Dumbledore a straight line.

Dumbledore took it anyway and said blandly, "Magic."


The Burrow's Kitchen: Gack Attack:
Ginny's shriek startled the family ghoul, not to mention the rest of the family. "Mum! Dad! Can I go? Can I? Please?" She charged into the kitchen where her parents were standing near the sink. "Hermione's invited me to go to Bulgaria with her!" she added, suddenly realizing her parents hadn't heard that news yet.

Her parents exchanged worried looks and Ginny's euphoria faded. They didn't look happy about the trip. Maybe they were just tired, she hoped. They did look tired, she told herself, especially her Mum.

"Well, Ginny," Arthur said hesitantly.

Ginny's face fell.

"It's a generous offer, of course," Molly hastened to say. "And it's a wonderful opportunity for you. The trouble is, Mrs. Granger is a Muggle and neither you nor Hermione are fully qualified."

Ginny felt her throat begin to tighten.

"Easy, Punkin," Arthur said, coming over to put his arm around his daughter. "We're not saying you can't go. We'd just feel better if a fully qualified wizard went with you. It just so happens we know one who is going to Bulgaria, and who happens to have a reservation for the same Overseas Portkey as the Grangers."

Arthur nodded at the table and Ginny finally noticed the man sitting there with a huge grin on his freckled face.

"CHARLIE!" Ginny shrieked. She flung her arms around her second oldest brother's neck.

"Gack!"

"Charlie! You are the best brother ever!"

"Gack!"

Ginny let out another shriek. "What am I going to wear? I can't go to Bulgaria looking like a beggar!"

Charlie winced. Ginny's mouth had been too close to his ear during that last shriek.

"Well, your new dress robes would look good, and you'd get more use out of them," Molly said thoughtfully. "We could alter your old dress robes, too." She tapped her lower lip. "Oh, my trousseau! It's in the attic."

Ginny released Charlie and hugged her mother. For good measure, she hugged her father. She also hugged Errol, Hermes and Pixie.

"Your what?" Charlie asked, rubbing his throat.

Molly gave him a stern look. "If you'd find yourself a nice girl and settle down, you'd know what a trousseau was. It's a bride's possessions. In this case, the clothes I wore on my honeymoon. They're very nice robes and I never really got the chance to wear them much."

"Why no…ow!" Charlie interrupted his own question when Ginny accidentally whacked him in the head with her elbow as she danced around the room with Pixie.

"What happened to the best brother ever?" Charlie demanded, rubbing his head.

"Ginny! It's no secret that I became pregnant with Bill right away," Molly said, half exasperated, half amused. "I never did slim down enough to fit back into those robes," Molly added wistfully. "There was the cutest sky blue one with daisies on the hems. I've been meaning to give you those robes as soon as you were tall enough to fit into them. Now seems to be an excellent time."

"Robes that old would be bit out of style, wouldn't they?" Charlie asked. He ducked as his father swatted at him with a napkin.

"We're not that old!" Arthur protested.

"Arthur! You're old enough to behave better than that!" Molly exclaimed.

"Yes, dear," Arthur said with mock meekness.

Molly shook her head. "Really, Charlie, classically styled robes never go out of fashion," she added, just a bit worriedly. She walked over to Ginny and brushed her daughter's hair out of her eyes.

Pixie took advantage of the mother-daughter moment to escape.

Arthur took advantage of the mother-daughter moment to provoke Charlie's napkin into attacking.

"I'll check them out to see," Ginny said. She was facing the table, but said nothing about Charlie using his butter knife to stab a napkin that was trying to eat his hand.

"They're in the brown trunk against the wall," Molly said, rather unhelpfully.

By the time Molly had turned around, the napkin had been thoroughly defeated and Arthur was on his feet and out of reach of immediate retaliation from Charlie.

"Well, dear, shall we have our tea in the sitting room?" he asked grandly.

Molly giggled and her husband waved his wand at the sink. The enchanted the tea set began to follow them. She took Arthur's offered arm and strolled into the next room with him, unaware of the fact that Charlie was now being attacked by her damp dish rag.


The Burrow's Stairway: Gack Attack 2:
Ginny barreled up the stairs and found Ron looking out of his bedroom door. She threw her arms around his neck and half strangled him.

"Gack!"

"Ron! You are the best brother ever!"

"Gack!"

"I just got Hermione's invitation! She said you suggested that she invite me!"

"Gack!"

"I'm going to BULGARIA! Oh, this is going to be brilliant! Me and Hermione on the loose in Bulgaria! Think of the museums! Think of the restaurants! Think of the shops!"

"Gack!"

"I love you! You're the best brother ever!" She kissed him on both cheeks and continued her charge up to the attic.

"Gack?" Ron said. He rubbed his sore throat and stared after his lunatic sister. He went down to the kitchen.

There was something about Ron's expression that caught his parents' attention and they abandoned their tea to follow him into the kitchen. The teapot was too busy flirting with the creamer to notice that they'd been abandoned.

"I hear I've already lost my 'best brother' title," Charlie joked. He rubbed his throat in sympathy.

Ron stopped rubbing his throat and eyed his brother suspiciously. "Hi, Charlie," he said evenly. "You're all wet."

"Great to see you, too!" Charlie said, rather perplexed at Ron's lack of enthusiasm. He finished drying his face with a tame napkin and studied his youngest brother curiously.

"Going to Bulgaria, are you?" Ron asked in neutral tones.

"Well, Bulgaria is next door to Rumania, I have a lot of business there," Charlie said, rather defensively.

"So why come through England? Isn't this a bit out of your way?" Ron's tone was growing ironic.

Molly was suddenly very interested in cleaning the sink.

"Hey, I had to stop by and see my favorite ickle baby brother, didn't I?"

Ron didn't respond to the jab. In fact, he had his 'chess face' on. The one that usually meant he was five or six moves ahead of you. "And then go on to Bulgaria via public transportation rather than under your own steam or your work related Floo network?"

Charlie grinned. "Sometimes public transportation is handier."

The sink must have been exceptionally dirty, because Arthur suddenly felt the need to help his wife with the chore.

"Even when you have to make reservations weeks in advance?" Ron was definitely ironic now.

"That just makes things more interesting," Arthur said cheerfully to the sink.

Molly giggled.

"And you just happened to have reservations to go to the same place Hermione and her parents are going, on the same day and the same time?" Ron asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Amazing how life works sometimes, isn't it?" Charlie replied.

Ron eyed Charlie severely for a few minutes before saying: "So, how does Bill like Little Whinging, Surrey?"

Charlie laughed. "Dumbledore has somebody else watching Harry."

"Ginny was right the first time," Ron said abruptly. "You are the best brother in the world."

"Awww…" Molly and Arthur said with one breath. "How sweet!"

"MUM! DAD! I am NOT sweet! I just appreciate Charlie going along to protect Hermione and her parents." Ron paused again. "I'm not going to hug you, though," he told Charlie. "You have soap scum in your hair."

Ron turned on his heel and left the kitchen.

"Gack," Charlie said, running his fingers through his hair.


Mrs. Figg's: Cat Attack:
Harry had a story all prepared, but he didn't see the Dursleys. He snuck back into his attic, grabbed a change of clothes. Then he packed his book bag with Nicely the Animagus' Survival Guide, his Transfiguration textbook and his half-finished Transfiguration essay. He grabbed a few more necessities before he slipped back down the stairs. He heard the Dursleys coming in the front door as he escaped.

"I'm so proud of you," Sirius said when Harry returned with his prizes. He pretended to wipe a tear from his eye.

"Are you related to the Weasley twins?" Harry asked.

"Why? Are they fun-loving and devilishly handsome?" Sirius asked.

"Fun-loving and devilish, yes," Harry replied, putting his bag down next to Mrs. Figg's kitchen table. "Don't expect me to touch that handsome bit."

"Don't you think your old godfather is handsome?" Sirius teased.

"Well, you do look better than you did the first time I met you," Harry equivocated. He pulled his Transfiguration essay out. "Will you help me with my essay? Transfiguration is one of your specialties, isn't it?" He started stacking his books on the table. The gesture reminded him of Hermione, for obvious reasons.

Sirius laughed. "A three day old corpse looks better than I did when we first met," he said. "You'll have to do better than that if you want to flatter me into helping you."

"You looked better than Snape did," Harry said, opening Nicely.

"I said you wanted to flatter me, not damn me with faint praise," Sirius said haughtily.

Harry looked at him evenly, then his eyebrow quirked. "Well, I've been told that some women swoon over really handsome men. I know for a fact that lots of people faint dead away when they see you!"

Mrs. Figg laughed, causing both Harry and Sirius to jump.

"He got you that time, Black," she said. "You'd better help him before he comes up with something worse."

Sirius wrinkled his nose. "You think I can't win a war of wits against a fifteen year old boy?"

"You never won against James," Mrs. Figg replied.

"Yes I did," Sirius replied huffily. "July 16, 1976." He turned back to Harry before Mrs. Figg could reply. "So, let me see what you've got so far."

Mrs. Figg shook her head and left them with a plate of ham sandwiches and a bowl of apples.

Sirius was a surprisingly patient teacher and Nicely was helpful in an unexpected way. When Nicely wasn't being "The Animagus Survival Guide", she styled herself as: "The Transfiguration Survival Guide."

A casual reader would find a compendium of Transfiguration spells. Each spell was broken down into its constituent parts to aid in understanding the theory, plus each spell had illustrations of the proper wand movement and a complete history of how it was created.

"Hermione will love you, Nicely," Harry said.

: You think? : Nicely asked.

"Definitely. She loves knowing all the background details. Speaking of background, just out of interest, where do you keep your brains?"

Sirius laughed. "It's in a pensieve in Remus' pantry. I'm glad to see that somebody warned you about sentient items," he said.

"Mr. Weasley did," Harry said.

"I like him," Sirius said. "Or at least I will, once I actually meet him."

"I like the whole family," Harry said. "I don't know where I'd be without them."

"So, what about the Weasley girl? Jenny?

"Ginny," Harry huffed. "I've already told you about her."

"So? I want to know more about my future goddaughter-in-law."

"I'll let you know when I learn something," Harry replied noncommittally. "So, how do I go about choosing my Animagus form?"

Sirius grinned at the change of subject. He wolfed down half a sandwich without tasting it and said, rather indistinctly, "You don't choose your form, your form chooses you. Flip to Chapter One and ask Nicely."

"Nicely, will you please show me what my Animagus form will be?"

: Such a polite boy, of course I'll help. :

While Harry was engrossed in that process, Sirius left to find Mrs. Figg.

"So, what did Dumbledore say?" he demanded when he found her tossing clothes into a metal box with a door in front.

"Well, the white hairs could be a sign of Kirttimukha hemorrhaging."

"I know that! That's why I'm here! Dumbledore warned me that Harry might be getting sick! He's way too thin for my tastes. Poor kid is wasting away under the not-so-tender care of those wretched Dursleys."

"But his appetite seems to be fine," Mrs. Figg added some white powder into the box.

"I think being around me stimulates his appetite," Sirius said absently as Mrs. Figg's actions started to distract him.

"Amazing," Mrs. Figg muttered. "Most people have the opposite reaction."

"You are not being helpful!" snapped Sirius.

"Well, he hasn't thrown up, complained about being in pain, or mentioned any nightmares within my hearing."

"He wouldn't complain," Sirius said. "And he wouldn't mention any nightmares, unless they were about Voldemort. He keeps too much to himself."

"I know that," Mrs. Figg replied. "Blame that on the Dursleys and the Evans. On top of not being brought up properly, Potter obviously inherited Lily's stoicism. James could be a big crybaby sometimes."

"Hey!"

"Hay is for horses," Mrs. Figg continued. "Calm down, aside from the white hairs, Harry hasn't shown any signs of being sick. Nor has he shown signs of being in pain aside from the occasional twinge from the bruises he got when some rambunctious idiot dragged him across the Dursleys' yard."

"Air-uh-bell-UH!"

"Seer-ee-US! Stop fussing. I don't see that he's in any immediate danger. Dumbledore will have Harry at the Weasleys' before his birthday. As soon as he gets there, Molly will drag him to St. Mungo's for a proper checkup. She's as bad as you are. The more that poor girl reads up on that hemorrhage, the more alarmed she gets. Now she's having nightmares!"

"She is not a girl, she is a grand lady," Sirius huffed.

"So defensive over somebody you met for all of, what, ten minutes?" Mrs. Figg inquired archly. She shut the door, twisted a dial and the box began to shudder and make churning noises.

"She loves Harry; you bet I'll defend her." Sirius watched Mrs. Figg's actions with a frown. "What in the name of Merlin are you doing?" he demanded. He peeked in the glass door. Inside he could see clothing being whirled around in a froth of soap bubbles.

"Bloody brilliant! Arabella, when did you invent a self-stirring cauldron?!" he exclaimed.

"It's called a washing machine," Mrs. Figg said. "It's a Muggle thing. It runs on electricity."

"Figure out how to run it on magic and claim it for yourself! You'll go down in history!"

"Black," Mrs. Figg said crossly. "They already have self-stirring cauldrons."

Sirius looked surprised. "They do? Since when?"

Mrs. Figg opened her mouth, but remembered that Sirius had missed twelve years or so of Wizarding progress. "Never mind," she said more gently. "Go play with your godson. There's some Muggle cake mix in the cupboard, see what kind of mess you and Potter can make with that." She was reasonably sure that the boys would be more interested in eating chocolate cake than using it to destroy her kitchen, so she continued with her chores.

Sirius headed back to the kitchen, muttering under his breath, "They have self-stirring cauldrons? Why doesn't anybody tell me these things?" He looked around the kitchen there was nothing in sight but a mass of furry bodies. There were cats on the table finishing off the sandwiches. There were cats of the floor chasing stray apples and there was a cat on each of the kitchen chairs.

"Harry?"

No response, aside from a chorus of cat-calls.

Sirius looked in the bathroom, and then did a quick search of the house. "Harry? Harry!" He went into the living room. There was still no sign of Harry. He returned to the kitchen. He turned into Padfoot and sniffed around, but Harry's scent didn't seem to lead anywhere. He transfigured back so he could speak.

"Nicely, please tell me, did Harry say where he was going?"

: No:

A disquieting thought struck Sirius. "How far did you get in finding what Harry's Animagus form is going to be?"

: Erm. Too far? :

"Nicely! Don't tell me that you transfigured Harry!"

: Would you rather figure it out for yourself, then? :

Sirius' wail was downright canine.

Mrs. Figg hurried in from the kitchen. "What the devil are you going on about?" she snapped.

"FIGG! Your DAMN cats have EATEN my GODSON!"


Attic Attack:
Ginny was so engrossed in rooting around the attic that she didn't hear the family ghoul until he shrieked in her ear.

Ginny jumped and put her hand over her heart. She relaxed when she saw who it was. "Oh, what a relief, for a minute there I thought Fred or George had snuck up on me. Can you give me a hand with these?"

The ghoul looked offended.

"Oh, sorry," Ginny said. She took a deep breath and let out a shrill scream. "There, happy?"

"Ginny? Are you all right?" Ron called up the stairs.

"Yes, the ghoul startled me, is all."

"Okay," Ron said.

"Hold this," she handed the ghoul a pile of fabric swatches with a spindle piled precariously on top.

The ghoul automatically took hold of it.

"Thanks," she said. She knew that it probably would have been polite to act a little more scared, but how could she be afraid of something that acted like her brothers? "Mind that spindle, it's jinxed. Poke yourself with it and you won't have any problems with insomnia for at least a century."

The ghoul shrieked.

"Okay, so it probably wouldn't affect you that much," Ginny said absently. She opened one trunk that turned out to hold nothing but shoes. She shook her head over some of the ugly shoes, then found a pair of sparkly silver slippers. "Oh, these are pretty!" She tried them on and they almost fit. "These will go with my new dress robes, once Mum shrinks them a bit," she said happily.

She put the silver shoes in an empty box and continued rooting. The next shoe was rather puzzling. "Who would make a glass slipper?" she wondered, holding it up to the light and admiring the rainbows it created on the wall. She set it down and rooted around for the mate, but found only the one. She shrugged. "Maybe it's a candy dish?"

The ghoul made a grumbling noise.

The rest of the shoes proved boring, so she moved on to the next trunk. This one held a variety of brassware, including an oriental mantel lamp. "Looks like Aladdin's lamp," she said to the ghoul. "I wonder if there's a genie inside?"

The ghoul rolled its eyes.

She picked the lamp up and rubbed it vigorously. There was a gush of smoke, and Arabic writing appeared in the air. After a few minutes, the Arabic writing disappeared to be replaced with the English translation:

'Sorry, this is not a winning lamp. Please play again.'

Ginny sighed. "Just my luck."

Ginny peeked into the remains of an old apple wood wardrobe that held nothing but a pair of boots that were obviously much too large for Ginny. One of the boots held Pixie.

"Now how did you get in there?" Ginny cooed. She peeked inside the wardrobe and discovered a hole large enough for a Crup to creep through. It almost looked like something had eaten its way out at some point.

"Mow?" Pixie asked. She popped out of the wardrobe and disappeared into a dark corner.

Ginny could hear her digging at something and assumed that she was after another dust bunny. "Now, if we could only train you to do the ironing," she muttered.

The next few trunks held an interesting assortment of goods. There were linen tablecloths that came out on special occasions, Christmas and other holiday decorations, Wedding decorations, Molly's wedding robes. Ginny lifted them up and studied it wistfully. Would she find somebody to love? Was what she felt for Harry really love? Time would tell, but that was the hard part, waiting for time to make up its bloody mind. No wonder so many people tried to use Divination to cheat a little.

Finally, she found the trunk that she was looking for. "Wow!" she said.

The ghoul sighed ostentatiously.

"Look!" Ginny held up a brown tweed robe. She wrinkled her nose. "Smells awful, but it's in great shape!" She whirled around to look in the remains of a dusty mirror that had once been part of a vanity table.

The robe looked good. The advantage of her family's awful complexion was that it standard among all Weasleys. What looked good on one Weasley, even her Mum (who was only a Weasley by marriage), would look good on another.

Her Mum's complexion wasn't quite as orange as her daughter's, but the brown tweed robe looked good on both witches. So did the blue broadcloth robe. Ginny also found a pair of trousers that matched the blue broadcloth robe. Plus, there was a lovely cream colored blouse that would go well with either the tweed or the blue. The clothes were a little big, but there was still time to alter them.

The sky blue robe with the daisies had gone to seed, however. There was also a grey outfit, but Ginny thought it was ugly. And she didn't like the brown dress that was supposed to go with the brown tweed robes. She wasn't worried; she figured she had enough decent blouses and trousers to fill out the rest of her travel wardrobe.

There weren't any cloaks in this trunk and Ginny frowned. "Oh, of course," she explained to the ghoul. "Mum got pregnant shortly after she got married. The clothes never did fit her again, but her cloak would have still been useable."

The ghoul dropped its load with a clatter and disappeared with a huff.

"Mow-ow!" Pixie protested. A dust covered muzzle poked out from behind some boxes.

"Ginny? Are you all right?" Ron called up the stairs.

"Yeah, it's just that crazy ghoul again," she bellowed back.

The dust covered muzzle sneezed and disappeared.

"Good! As long as it's not the twins!" Ron bellowed.

Ginny grinned, but Ron had a point. The ghoul was a pest, but the twins went above and beyond the call of pest-hood.

Speaking of hoods, Ginny began to look at some of the other trunks to see if there was a cloak in any of them. "Pixie, do you see any cloaks?"

"Mmrow."

Taking that for a no, Ginny went to the other side of the attic. She found the remains of an old suitcase and there was something inside that looked like it could be a cloak. She lifted it up to inspect it and suddenly it sprang at her and enveloped her in stifling darkness.


Cats Up:
"Maybe Potter stepped outside?" Mrs. Figg suggested.

"ARABELLA!" Sirius paced back and forth as if trying to pick up Harry's scent while he was still in human form. "Harry wouldn't have just left!"

Mrs. Arabella Figg surveyed the kitchen. A mass of larcenous cats on every flat surface wasn't an unusual sight, but there was something wrong here. She studied the scene while Sirius paced around the room. Most of the cats were occupied with eating or fighting or washing. However the green-eyed Abyssinian was watching her with an air of bewilderment.

Wait a minute.

"Stop panicking, child," she snapped soothingly. "Harry's fine. He's right there."

"What? WHERE?"

"Er?" said the green-eyed Abyssinian.

Mrs. Figg gestured to the cat in question. "There's an extra cat here. I have only one Abyssinian and he doesn't have green eyes.

Sirius stared at the green-eyed Abyssinian in shock. The green-eyed Abyssinian stared back, equally shocked.

"Harry?" Sirius managed.

The cat nodded.

"HARRY!"

Startled, the cat leaped backwards off the chair. Harry, suddenly back in human form, fell heavily, knocking over the chair and getting his feet entangled. "Oof!"

: Oh! There he is! : Nicely wrote.

"Harry! Are you trying to GIVE ME A HEART ATTACK?!" Sirius bellowed.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Harry said. He covered his head with his arms. "I didn't mean to do it! I'm not even sure how I did it! One minute I was looking at animal pictures, the next…" his voice trailed off.

"That was NOT FUNNY!" Sirius roared a few seconds before he burst out laughing. "Oh, quit, I'm not going to hex you."

Harry peered up at him uncertainly and lowered his arms as he realized that Sirius' anger was partly worry and partly drama.

"What's wrong?" Sirius asked. "Those Dursleys didn't make a habit of beating you did they?"

"They never wanted to touch me," Harry said. "Just don't like people yelling at me, is all."


Mrs. Figg laughed. "I think Potter beat you, Black," Mrs. Figg said. "Twice."

"So he did," Sirius said. To Harry, he said, "You! You will pay for this transgression, Potter," Sirius threatened.

"I didn't change on purpose," Harry protested. "I was just looking at the pictures…"

"Not for transfiguring yourself," Sirius interrupted. "For letting those dratted animals eat our lunch!" He hauled Harry to his two feet and set the chair back up.

Harry sank back into the chair and winced. Somehow his muscles didn't want to bend the way they should.

Mrs. Figg gave a bark of laughter as she whipped up another plate of sandwiches (tuna this time). "Figures you'd be worried about the food, Black. Do you ever think of anything else?"

"Of course I do," Sirius said. "I think about playing pranks and drinking beer and having s…"

"You're not mad?" Harry asked anxiously.

"No," Sirius said. "How do you feel?"

"Confused," Harry said. "Why did I turn into a red cat? Shouldn't I have turned into a black cat?"

"You are not a red cat," Mrs. Figg corrected. "You are a ruddy Abyssinian. That's burnt-sienna with black ticking and a black tipped tail, with brick red nose leather and an underside of warm apricot."

Harry wasn't sure he liked the idea of Mrs. Figg noticing the colour of his underside. But he kept that to himself. "Nose leather?" he said. "You're making that up."

Mrs. Figg glared at him without pausing in her monologue. Harry wondered if she was related to Hermione. "I expect that the pads of your feet were black, but I didn't get a chance to examine them. I also noticed that you have a black mark on your forehead that would cost you points in a cat show."

"A lightning bolt?" Harry guessed.

Mrs. Figg shook her head. "More like a finger smudge," she said.

'Voldemort's fingerprint,' was the thought that went through all of their minds, although none of them said that.

Mrs. Figg cleared her throat and continued. "However, judges do like eyes that show 'depth of colour', so those pretty green eyes of yours would get extra points."

'Pretty green eyes?' Harry wondered. 'Where had that come from?'

Sirius nudged him. "Ooh, she's noticing your eyes! The old Potter charm is still working."

Harry gave him an offended look. "I've got my Mum's eyes," he said. "So it must be the Evans' charm at work." He remembered that Aunt Petunia was an Evans, too, but decided to forget that just now.

Sirius grinned.

Harry ran his hand through his wild black hair and went back to his original topic before Sirius could say anything. "But why didn't I become a black cat? I mean, Sirius is a black dog."

"Coincidence," Sirius said. "You father was a brown stag, but he had black hair. Peter was a grey rat, but he had fair hair. Plus Minerva McGonagall was a grey tabby long before your father and I arrived at Hogwarts to give her grey hair."

"Oh."

"What happened?" Mrs. Figg asked. She plopped the plate of tuna sandwiches in front of the two boys as she shooed the last of the cats out of the kitchen.

"I don't know," Harry said. "One minute I was looking at animal pictures. Then I started feeling sleepy and the next thing I knew, Sirius was yelling at me." He frowned at Mrs. Figg. "Is that what was supposed to happen when I looked at all those cat pictures?"

"Absolutely not," Mrs. Figg said firmly. "Here, have a sandwich."

"Nicely?" Sirius said.

: I told him to empty his mind so I could get a sense of what animal he was going to turn into. I guess it worked a little too well. :

"Sorry," Harry said meekly.

"You can stop apologizing at any time now, Potter," Mrs. Figg said dryly. "You act as if you committed a crime instead of pulling off a very difficult feat of transfiguration. Now eat something." The refilled bowl of apples was plopped in front of Harry and she shoved a sandwich into his hand.

"I'm too good at emptying my mind," Harry said glumly. "I must not have much in there." He nibbled on his sandwich absently.

"Enough," Sirius said. He poked Harry in the arm and bolted down another sandwich. "That kind of thinking isn't helpful."

"You can't be stupid," Mrs. Figg said firmly. "If you were, you wouldn't have turned into a cat at all, much less one as intelligent as an Abyssinian."

"Are Abyssinians especially intelligent, then?" Sirius asked.

"Yes, and they are curious, loyal, energetic, creative, and one more thing," Mrs. Figg eyed Harry with amusement. "They have a deep-seated need to stick their noses into everything!"

Sirius laughed and Harry sighed.

"There's just one more thing, my little Marauder," Sirius said.

"Will you quit with the 'little' already!" Harry asked in exasperation.

"Sure," Sirius said amiably. "Do you prefer 'small' or 'ickle'?"

"How about young marauder and old marauder?" Harry retorted.

Mrs. Figg laughed.

"How about we move on?" Sirius said hastily. "Since we're discussing what to call each other, anyway, we might as well discuss code names. You know the code names we original Marauders chose. We'll need something to communicate just between the two of us. I've been thinking about yours. What do you think of 'Leo'?"

"Why Leo?" Harry asked.

"Well, one thing, we want regular names," Sirius said. "Code names like 'Prongs' and 'Padfoot' look like code names and therefore attract too much attention. Besides, I suggested 'Leo' as your actual name shortly after Lily told us you were coming."

He smiled in happy reminiscence. "Well, shortly after we revived your father and after James and I finished off most of a bottle of Vino Veritas brandy."

"You still haven't explained why you want to call me 'Leo'," Harry said.

"I figured it was appropriate. Since you were going to be born late in July or early in August, Leo was going to be your birth sign. If I was stuck with a constellation name, you could endure one, too. Plus, you were obviously destined to be put in Gryffindor."

"Oh." A name inserted itself into Harry's mind.

"But your Mum insisted on naming you in honor of her father. So, what do you think?"

"Huh? Oh, erm, Leo's fine, I guess," Harry said.

"Good," Sirius grinned. "Now, you can come up with one for me, if you like."

He couldn't call Sirius that!

"It should be something rather commonplace," Mrs. Figg added. "Nothing that would look out of the ordinary if one of "Leo's" owls got intercepted.

Sirius wasn't… but he was. Not an abstract figure, but a comforting presence.

"Go ahead, Harry," Sirius said encouragingly. "I can see you've thought of something."

"Let's hear it, boy," Mrs. Figg was close to smiling. "It can't be worse than some of the things James called him."

But was it appropriate?

Sirius and Mrs. Figg eyed each other. "If he's hesitating this much, it's got to be a good one," Mrs. Figg said in a stage whisper. "You'll never live it down."

"Can't be worse than 'Snuffles,'" Sirius said. He sounded as if he was trying to convince himself. "Harry? What do you want to call me?"

Before he could stop himself, Harry blurted out. "Dad!"

The adults fell silent.

Harry bit his lip and had to restrain himself from biting his tongue. He couldn't believe he'd actually said that. He couldn't bring himself to look at the other two. Did he sound really lame? What if Sirius got mad? What if Mrs. Figg laughed?

He grew increasingly nervous as the silence lengthened. Was that disrespectful to his father's memory? Sirius wasn't his father… but he couldn't remember his parents. He would never know his father the way he knew Sirius. Damn! Why did he have to be such a baby?

Mrs. Figg broke the silence by suddenly clearing her throat. "I… I've got to get to that laundry," she muttered in a croaky voice. "It… it will catch cold if I don't get it dried out." She left hurriedly.

Sirius stayed uncharacteristically silent.

Harry finally worked up the nerve to look at him out of the corner of his eye. "Sirius?"

"You … you really want to call me that?" Sirius said with a slight stutter.

Harry nodded. "You… you don't think it's disrespectful to my father, do you?"

"No," Sirius said. "James wasn't the dog in the manger type. He wouldn't have begrudged you having a father in your life."

"Erm, good then. Dad it is," Harry hesitated. "Unless you don't want me to call you that?"

Sirius had an expression on his face that Harry couldn't make head nor tails of. Wistful? Proud? How could somebody be both at the same time?

Sirius cleared his throat. "Dad will be perfect, Leo-mine." The older Animagus beamed. "So, what about this Transfiguration essay you were talking about?"


Ginny's Stab in the Dark:
Ginny couldn't breathe. Her first thought was that this was the thing that must have eaten its way out of the third trunk. Her second was that she had to get help. She fell backward and rolled. The cloak was trying to wrap itself around her and prevent her from using her arms but she managed to get her left hand free.

She felt around for something to use as a weapon, then a thought struck her and she rolled towards where the ghoul had dropped his load. If she could get that spindle… without putting herself to sleep for a century…

She heard Pixie growling nearby, but couldn't breathe enough to tell her cat to go get help. Then something nudged against her hand. The spindle! She wrapped her hand around it and jabbed at the cloth until it suddenly slackened and she was able to sit up. She wriggled free and stood up. The cloak wasn't moving. Cautious, Ginny picked it up and flipped the cloth out. After a few minutes, she realized what it was.

"Dear Harry," she said to herself. "Today I was almost suffocated by a hooded red riding cloak."


Thinking Inside the Box:
It was miserably hot in the attic, even with all the tiny windows open. There wasn't much air circulation. Dudley's ratty old t-shirt stuck to his skin because Harry didn't want to ruin his new clothes by sweating in them.

Harry sprawled on his back on top of a pile of blankets on the floor of the attic. The camp bed was not only uncomfortable, it was unstable. He had enough troubles without breaking any bones falling out of bed. The nest of blankets wasn't too bad, though, he told himself. Since he didn't need any covers, he could pile everything underneath him as a cushion.

The heat and the shabby bed weren't bothering him nearly much as his growing feeling of dread. It had only been a few hours since Sirius had left and already Harry missed him so badly that his stomach hurt. He wanted someone to talk to and wished he could just ask the Dursleys if he could just call the Grangers, but he knew they'd never say 'yes.' He could send Hedwig, but that seemed so slow. Besides, she was off hunting just now, so he didn't even have her to talk to.

He was going to try to stay awake until the Dursleys went to bed. Unfortunately, they were going to have a party and, from the sounds of the preparations, were planning to make a night of it. Dudley was going to spend the night with some of his friends, so the Dursleys wouldn't have to worry about their precious Duddy-kins losing any sleep. They didn't care if Harry lost sleep.

Maybe Mrs. Figg would let him use her phone, if he could figure out a way to get over to her house. He bit the inside of his cheek. No, that wouldn't work. Mrs. Figg told him that she would be out of town for a few days. Apparently she had to escort 'Snuffles' at least part way to his next destination. A large dog wandering around Muggle London by itself would attract attention.

"Stop being a baby," he told himself roughly. "You don't want S… Snuffles to get caught just because poor ickle Harry-kins is feeling lonely."

Harry closed his eyes and fought the urge to just scream. The brief visit he'd had with Sirius somehow made his stay with the Dursleys seem all the more squalid. On top of that, now he was worried. The more Sirius had tried to reassure him, the more anxious Harry felt. He didn't think he could take it if anything happened to his godfather.

He tried to think of something else, but his mind refused to leave the topic of all the atrocious things that could happen to Sirius. He could feel the beginning of a panic attack. His breathing grew harsh and his eyes burned and…

Something landed on his stomach with a thump.

Harry jerked to a sitting position and jerked his head aside just in time to avoid Pigwidgeon's next bounce.

Pigwidgeon fluttered around Harry's head, hooting happily.

"Come here, you crazy courier," Harry said. It took some doing, but he got the letter off Pigwidgeon's leg without tearing it.

He recognized Ginny's writing immediately. It was much daintier than Ron's writing, but there were many similarities, especially the shape of the "r's" and "y's".

Harry's worry over Sirius faded to the background and he felt a rush of gratitude towards Ginny for being able to distract him. His gratitude was quickly replaced by horror as he read her letter.

"Dear Harry, Today I was almost suffocated by a hooded red riding cloak."

Ginny had been attacked! What were the Weasleys thinking!

I came across the thing while I was poking through the attic. Don't worry, I'm fine. Really, I didn't get hurt or anything and even the doctors at St. Mungo's (Mum insisted that I be looked at) said that I was fine and could even travel."

She'd been attacked! In her own home! And the Weasleys were going to let her travel?

I am sorry to throw this at you so abruptly, but my whole family is reacting badly to the news and I thought you should be warned that certain of them might not react rationally to any sort of teasing or mention of Bulgaria."

Of course they weren't reacting rationally! Wait, what was the rational reaction to hearing that Ginny had been attacked in her own home?

"Actually, Bulgaria is why I was back in the attic. In case you haven't heard, Hermione's father can't make the trip and, as the arrangements for three have already been paid for and the Wizarding Travel agency hates last minute cancellations, I've been invited to go along. I was looking through Mum's old stuff to see if there were any nice robes to take. I don't want to go traveling through Europe in my school uniform! I found some nice things, too. Including a really cool pair of silver slippers to go with my new dress robes. (Did I tell you about the dress robes the twins got me? They're really pretty and they don't blow up or try to strangle me or anything.)"

Well, that was one step farther than he'd asked for. Why hadn't he thought to ask for new robes for Ginny? Harry frowned. Actually, he couldn't remember anything wrong with her old ones. Not that he'd spent a lot of time looking at Ginny in her pretty white robes. He should have thought to ask the twins… but they obviously assumed he was including her. He'd have to remember to let them prank him at least one in the coming school year.

"Anyway, I was looking for a cloak, and I found one. Only this cloak turned out to be a Hunting Cloak that wizards used a long time ago to render witches unconscious so some unscrupulous wizards could carry them off into forced marriages. More recently (in Wizarding terms, more recently means any time after writing was invented) Hunting Cloaks were used to rob people. I guess I can't really say that I was almost suffocated, the things aren't supposed to kill, but it felt like it was going to kill me. But I fought back and got free. (You'd be so proud, I'm sure.)"

He was already proud of her. She sounded just like Hermione!

"Have you ever heard of Sleepy Spindles? No, I'm not changing the subject."

Like in Sleeping Beauty? Harry wondered.

"Anyway, Hermione hadn't heard of them, either. (I didn't owl her first, her parents are connected to the Floo network so I can get over there when it's time to go. And I just talked to her in the fireplace. I'm babbling, sorry.) Anyway, Sleepy Spindles are sort of the witchly answer to Hunting Cloaks. Witches used them to knock out wizards so they could be hauled off into a forced marriage. (I was explaining them to Hermione and Ron said: 'Blimey, didn't anybody ever ASK back then?' Hermione laughed. She and Ron are still talking and I'm half listening as I write.)
"

No way around it. The Wizarding World was insane.

The next word ('anyway') was crossed out.

" I guess I should stop saying 'anyway', it's getting annoying. I had found a Sleepy Spindle while I was looking for robes, and I stabbed the Hunting Cloak with it. The two 'render unconscious' spells canceled each other out and I was able to get free of the cloak. See? I told you that you would be proud of me."

"Good girl," Harry said aloud.

"Mum almost said I couldn't go to Bulgaria after that, but Dad said that I would probably be okay. It's not like there are a lot of Hunting Cloaks lying around in Bulgaria. Dad, the twins, Percy and Charlie are checking out the attic right now. I'm not allowed to go up there by myself until they've cleared it. Ron can't go up, either. But for once, he's not objecting to being treated like a baby. (I did say he was talking to Hermione, didn't I?)"

"You did. I wonder if telephones would work in the Burrow? Nah, somebody would have to install wires and stuff. Too expensive," Harry shook himself as he realized he was talking out loud.

"Bulgaria is going to be such fun! I know you're worried (Hermione said she talked to you), so I'm writing to tell you not to be."

Too late.

"Charlie's going with us."

That wasn't reassuring; Charlie was as crazy as Hagrid. At least when it came to dangerous creatures.

"He 'just happened' to have reservations to go to Bulgaria at the same time we do.

I knew Charlie was a nutter.

Hermione says she suspects Dumbledore might have something to do with it. I could have guessed that for myself. He's such a dear."

Talk about being nutters. Why can't Dumbledore send somebody sane with them? Harry closed his eyes and went through the list of sane, adult wizards that he knew. Somehow mentioning Sirius and sane in one breath didn't seem appropriate. Mr. Weasley was mostly sane, except for his fascination with Muggles. Bill went around sticking his nose into cursed tombs. Percy had a tendency to obsess over details, like cauldron bottoms and curfews. The twins were neither adults nor sane. Remus Lupin was sane… no, wait, he liked to hang around Sirius. Scratch him off, too. Of course, there was always Dumbledore himself… the man who hired werewolves and Death Eaters. Having eliminated all the adult wizards he knew well, Harry went back to his letter.

"To further set your mind at ease, I'm taking the protector that you, clever boy, so generously gave me. Pixie is part Kneazle! We found that out because she saved me by pushing the Sleepy Spindle into my hand while I was fighting the Hunting Cloak. Expect masses of knitted goods next year. Mum thinks you're the greatest (non-redheaded) wizard in living memory. Percy wondered about Dumbledore, but Ron says he used to have red hair, so Percy shut up. And I'm babbling again. Sorry. Hope you're bored enough to read this."

I don't need to be bored to read your letters.

"Thank you for the cat, by the way. I love Pixie even when she isn't saving my life. I wish I could do something spectacular to pay you back. Unfortunately, the only thing spectacular about me is my hair."

God bless Mrs. Arabella Figg!

"And, we have a few more protections. Dumbledore is giving each us Pocket Sneakoscopes and a Hand Foe Mirrors. Dad arranged for Hermione and me to have temporary licenses so we can use our wands in case of emergency this summer. The twins have turned the Sleepy Spindle into three knitting needle sized weapons. The ends are covered so they won't accidentally poke anybody, but if Hermione or Mrs. Granger or I stab somebody with them (you guessed that's why there are three of them, right?) they'll go right to sleep. I think Dumbledore will have something for you soon."

"Well, I have to go finish packing. Hope everything is well with you and hope that you're at the Burrow when I get home."

Me, too!

"Love from Ginny."

It took Harry several minutes and several re-readings of the letter before he calmed down. He even smiled a little when he noticed that Ginny had picked up on Hermione's usual ending. He wondered if he should read more into it, then decided he'd better not. He was just getting to know Ginny and didn't want to complicate matters. He tapped his lower lip with the letter. "Well, let's not complicate things just yet," he said.

He felt loads better. He wished he could tell Ginny that her letter had allowed him to get control over his fear for Sirius, but he couldn't tell her about Sirius. He frowned. Maybe they should tell Ginny and the twins about everything that was going on. They were bound to be right in the middle of things. They deserved forewarning.

He found himself looking at his mother's trunk and made a wry face. If Ginny could stand digging around in the attic where there were things like ghouls and attack trained cloaks, he reckoned that he could deal with his mother's trunk.

He knelt next to the trunk and worked it open. Then he paused to remind himself of Hermione's philosophy. It didn't matter what was in the trunk, what mattered was that it had once belonged to his Mum and could probably teach him something about her. He grinned. It would be, as Hermione would say, educational.

The note was still there. Even though it had been addressed to Aunt Petunia, she hadn't taken it. Instead, she had made it clear that she considered the trunk and everything in it to be Harry's.

He reread it before going farther. "PV, Please store this until I get a chance to pick it up. I'll probably be there around November 5th. By the way, you don't have to worry about attending a 'Christmas bash with weirdos' this year, we won't be able to host one. I would appreciate it if you would keep some December dates free for next year. J. is already planning a 'Make It Up To Everyone Party'. -- LE."

He wondered if his parents gave many parties. The note to Aunt Petunia seemed to indicate that they had been planning a Christmas party. He'd have to ask Sirius about his parents' parties sometime. He wondered if there were party goods inside. He braced himself to find out.

He took a deep breath and reached inside for the first set of tissue wrapped items, expecting nothing. The tissue paper rustled slightly as he opened the first parcel to find… a tablecloth. His mouth twitched slightly as he fingered the yellowed cloth. *Linen, I bet,* he thought. His father had left him a cloak. His mother had left him a tablecloth. Maybe it was one of those magic tablecloths that produced food on command. He smirked slightly at the thought.

He shook the linen out and admired it. The hem had been embroidered with evergreen garlands and Christmas ornaments. There was a reindeer peeking out from behind one swag of embroidered greenery and Harry grinned at the sight of it.

He folded up the tablecloth, set it aside and reached in again. Maybe he'd find something really thrilling in there… like napkins! He laughed when the next bundle turned out to be matching napkins. Well, even if he didn't find any hidden treasure from his mother, at least he'd been able to share a laugh with her.

Under the table linens were two sets of bed linens. No, these didn't feel like the tablecloth, so these couldn't be linen. There was a set of white sheets embroidered with red roses, which smelled faintly like roses. The second set was pale green and was embroidered with pine branches. Harry held the green top sheet up to his nose and breathed deeply. It smelled like Christmas trees.

He shook out the green top sheet. It was bigger than any bed he'd ever seen. And he still wasn't sure about the material; he thought it could be silk or maybe satin. He felt the white sheet again. The two sets were different, that much he could tell. The rose sheets were thin and, well, silky. The green sheets were heavy and glossy. He wondered how you could sleep on the green sheets. He'd be afraid that he'd squirt out from between such slick sheets like a seed squirting from an especially juicy tomato.

Aunt Petunia might know what the sheets were made of; girls seemed to know about things like that. However, Harry wasn't about to show any of his Mum's things to his aunt. He doubted that Aunt Petunia would want to touch anything that his parents had owned, but he didn't want to risk it. The thought of his aunt and uncle sleeping on his parent's sheets, or even… Oh, there was a disgusting image. Push that thought out of mind and go on to the next object.

The next object, rather objects, turned out to be pillow cases. "What a surprise. Maybe there's a duvet or something in there, too." There were four pillowcases for each set of sheets. Harry picked up one of the green pillowcases and shook it out. He might actually be able to use this.

The pillowcase suddenly fluffed out into a full sized pillow, causing Harry to leap backwards like a startled cat and fluff out himself. Harry sneezed. His sense of smell was suddenly working overtime. The pillow smelled of Christmas trees and something else, some pleasant combination of spice and musk that brought up a ghost of a memory.

Strong arms held him and a pleasant tenor was singing about Snitches hanging from the Christmas tree and broomsticks flying 'round the room.

Harry picked up the scent of cooking chicken and the almost memory faded. He looked blinked a few times at a world that had suddenly ceased to be in color. He leaped to all fours and took a few uncertain steps toward the stairway, then stopped.

All fours?

Oh, dear. And he'd promised Sirius that he wouldn't do that! He still wasn't sure how he'd done it. For some reason, whenever he was startled, he transfigured himself. This was not a good thing. He wished he could write to Sirius about it… maybe he could send a note to Mrs. Figg via Muggle mail.

At least he could send her a note once he had changed back to a human. He padded over to his pile of books and managed to paw Nicely open. "Mrow!" Harry said.

: Oh, dear, Sirius is not going to be happy with us, : Nicely wrote.

The instructions for changing back popped up immediately, but it took Harry a few minutes to remember how to read. When he was back to himself, he went back to the trunk and sat down for a few minutes to collect his wits.

When he felt stable again, he picked the pillow up and held it against his face. It smelled faintly of Christmas trees, but that other scent was gone.

Harry pulled another pillowcase out and grinned as it plumped up. Oh, his mother was good at making him smile!

He reached for a third pillowcase, but stopped himself. He had no idea how to deflate the pillows and he didn't want to leave them behind. He thought he might be able to pack two pillows, one in this trunk and one in his school trunk, but he probably couldn't manage anything more. He wondered how he was going to get to King's Crossing this year. He hoped he'd be going from the Weasleys rather than the Dursleys. He sighed and laid back on the floor, head on one of his new pillows. He wanted out of here. He wished that Sirius or the Weasleys or even Mrs. Figg would give him a better home. He wished that the Dursleys would… no, don't wish that on anybody. You don't want them to die, no matter how awful they were.

"I'm sorry, Cedric," he muttered. "I didn't really want you to die! I didn't know it was an ambush!"

'Stop it, stop it,' he ordered himself. 'You can't help Cedric now. You couldn't help him then. He knows the truth of what happened. You saw him. He didn't blame you! Think of something else. Start an inventory for your next letter to Ginny.' Then he wondered why he'd thought of Ginny before Ron or Hermione or Sirius. He supposed because Ginny was a girl… not that Hermione wasn't a girl. Maybe it was because he'd just finished reading Ginny's letter. Oh, no, he didn't want his relationship with Ginny to get complicated! He barely knew her!

Back to the trunk. He had enough practice with laundry to refold the sheet and set it in a neat stack on top of the other sheets. He set the still folded pillowcases on top of the sheets. Then he looked in the chest and found more cloth, black this time and it felt like wool. He fingered the material; even he could tell that it was of better quality than any piece of clothing that the Dursleys had ever owned. He'd never really thought about the quality of clothing before. He just bought regular robes at Madam Malkin's. Even his dress robes hadn't been this fine.

He lifted the cloth up to see what it was, exactly, and found himself looking at a black, hooded cloak. The inside was lined with red material that felt very much like the rose colored sheets. Silk, he guessed. The green sheets were probably satin. He tried on the cloak and it dragged behind him. He sighed. Was he really that much shorter than his father? Here was another question to put to Sirius. Of course, he was only fifteen, he might still grow some more. He just hoped all his years in the closet hadn't permanently stunted his growth.

The next piece of black cloth was also a cloak. The wool was the same fine black wool that the first cloak was made from. The lining was silk, but this was green. In fact, it was a very familiar shade of green. He tried it on, it was a little short for him, but not too much so. His mother must have been dainty, like Ginny. Harry blinked. Why had he thought about Ginny? He supposed because Hermione never struck him as being dainty. (Not that there was anything wrong with Hermione's looks, he added to himself.)

Harry snuck down a flight of stairs and into the bathroom. His reflection in the mirror was dusty and sweat streaked and his hair was a total disaster. He held up the cloak and saw he was right. The silk lining was exactly the same shade of green as his eyes. Like he needed confirmation that this was his mother's cloak. He washed his hands and face and hurried back upstairs before Dudley came across him. (Actually, there wasn't much chance of that, it was getting close to dinner time and Dudley would be haunting the kitchen right now.)

Harry sat cross-legged next to the trunk. Under the cloth items were a lot of lumpy items in there. There were stacks of newspapers, Wizarding and Muggle, going back from October 16, 1981 to July 23, 1980. Harry leafed through a few of them, but nothing caught his eye off-hand, so he stacked them next to the linens, erm, silks, whatever those sheets were made of.

There was a brass tube under the newspapers. Now, that looked promising. Picked it up and examined it. There was a name plate on it. "Lily E. Evans." What a surprise, he told himself sarcastically. Well, maybe a little startling, his Mum must have owned it for a while if it had her maiden name on it. He opened it up and found a brass spyglass inside. "Cool," Harry said aloud. He pulled the spyglass out and a note fluttered out. Harry snatched the paper from the air before it could hit the floor.

"Lily, sorry about your old telescope, but Black really, really deserved that. Sorry you had to buy a new telescope. I got you this because you already have a replacement. Hope it makes it up to you. Sincerely, Berenice Sinistra."

Harry rocked back on his heels and tried to remember what Professor Sinistra's given name was. Nothing came to mind, so he made a mental note to ask Hermione in his next letter to her. She probably knew the names, life history and genealogy of all the professors, with the possible exception of Snape (who was obviously created in a mad scientist's lab out of spare parts and axel grease instead of being born to actual human parents.) He wondered if he could get the story behind this from Sirius, or maybe it would be better to try to worm it out of Professor Lupin.

Harry turned the spyglass over in his hands and found it was inscribed. "Lily from Berry. Warning, do not use this to peek into the boy's dorm!"

Eh? What a weird thing to inscribe permanently on a small telescope. How could a person use it to peek into the dormitories? He held it to his eye and looked up at the window. He spent several minutes gazing around the neighborhood before he realized that he shouldn't be able to see out the window at all, the angle was all wrong. He lowered the spyglass and grinned.

Then he wheeled around and looked through the spyglass towards the entrance of the attic. Sure enough, he could see downstairs and into the kitchen where Aunt Petunia was fixing a nice dinner of baked chicken, boiled potatoes and mushy peas. Next to the chicken sat the loaf of Dudley's diet bread and a tin of cheap tomato soup.

Harry sighed and lowered the spyglass. "Looks like Aunt Petunia is back to normal," he said to the spyglass. "Too bad, I was almost convinced that she was a human being under all that prejudice and favoritism."

He turned to the trunk again, but he wasn't sure he wanted to keep investigating. He lifted up a stack of something that turned out to be envelopes the size and shape one would use for greeting cards. Considering the He flipped through them. One stack was empty, unsealed envelopes. One of the empty envelopes was addressed to 'Prof. A. Dumbledore'. Harry frowned. Why had his mother changed her mind about sending Dumbledore a card?

Another stack was filled and sealed. Harry wiped his hands and thumbed through the stack. There were a lot of familiar names here: Sirius B., Remus L., Pete P. (Harry's mouth thinned at that name, but he kept looking), Albus D., (Harry grinned. His mother must have forgotten that she was on first name basis with the headmaster. That would explain why she'd discarded the first envelope.) Frank and Anne L., Harry stopped. Frank and Anne Longbottom? Had his parents known the Longbottoms? If they had lived, if Voldemort hadn't come along, would he and Neville have grown up together?

He stared at the envelope for a long time. Then he gritted his teeth and kept flipping through the cards. There were unfamiliar names in there, too. Mara H., Russ S., Sorcha B. He wondered who they had been and if they were still alive. He wondered if he should have the letters delivered? He'd have to talk to Dumbledore about this. Dumbledore would probably even know who everybody was.

He put that stack down and picked up a box. These proved to be the actual greeting cards. Harry's eyes went wide. The front of the card was a picture of his Mum, who was standing in front of a Christmas tree and holding a baby. This must have been from his first Christmas, Harry decided. Then he rolled his eyes. It had to be his first Christmas, because his parents… Don't think of that.

Harry squinted and studied his five month old self and decided his Mum must have loved him very much. There was no other reason she would have defended such a hideous looking creature. Were all babies that ugly or had he been especially deformed? He sighed. He opened the card and read the inscription: "Happy Christmas from James, Lily and Harry."

He couldn't look any more. He didn't remember his second Christmas, the one this card had been created for, but he bet he'd spent it locked in the boot cupboard. His parent, of course, hadn't had any kind of Christmas at all. He carefully repacked everything in the order that he found it… then he unpacked again to get at his mother's cloak. Ginny had inspired him to explore the trunk, she deserved a reward. She'd said she needed a cloak, didn't she?

As soon as Hedwig came back, he would send it off. Wait, he'd already sent her a cat this summer, if he sent her a cloak, then she might get the wrong idea. How could he get this to her anonymously? He tapped his lower lip as he pondered. He'd send it to Mrs. Weasley and have her give it to Ginny. He'd make sure that Hedwig delivered it to Mrs. Weasley when she was alone. He was sure that Mrs. Weasley would understand why he wanted this to be an anonymous gift.

Harry repacked the trunk, the unpacked it once more. He took out a Christmas card. If he didn't look at the inscription, then it wouldn't be too depressing. He had to have one for his scrapbook. Then, he repacked the trunk for the last time that night. He finished just before Aunt Petunia called him down to dinner.

Dinner was as depressing as he had figured it would be. (Too bad he couldn't hand this prediction over to Trelawny, he'd get full marks for sure.) However, the thought of Ginny's face when she got that excellent cloak helped him keep his spirits up. He didn't let himself think of why that was, though.


Cloak and Burrow:
"Ginny! Hedwig is here!" Molly called up the stairs the next morning.

"Did she bring me a note?" Ron asked.

"Yes, she brought notes for both of you," Molly replied.

Ron and Ginny settled themselves down for eggs and bacon while they read their letters.

"What does yours say?" Ron asked.

"Dear Ginny," Ginny read, turning red. "I'm sorry that you got attacked."

"Ah, young love is a beautiful thing," Ron asked.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I hope you really are fine and not just saying that."

"Potter calling the kettle black," muttered Ron.

Ginny giggled. "Knows us, doesn't he?" She continued to read. "I am sending Hedwig's cage with her. I would like you to take her to Bulgaria with you. Please owl me as soon as you get there or my hair will turn as white as Dumbledore's. You needn't bother carting the cage back. I'm planning to buy her a new cage next time I'm in Diagon Alley."

"As I said, I've been cleaning out the Dursley's attic. I didn't find anything as spectacular or as dangerous as you did. (I guess that's a good thing, since I have to sleep up here now.) However, I found an old trunk of my Mum's. Mostly it's filled with fun things like tablecloths and sheets, but there's also a really cool spyglass that can see around corners. Should be great for watching Quidditch matches!"

"I wonder if he could use it to keep an eye out for Filch," Ron mused.

"Ron!" Ginny said.

"Well, what do you want me to do? Look in the girl's dorm?"

"Ron!"

"I wouldn't do that! I see too much of you, anyway!"

Ginny kicked him. "Anyway, Harry says I'm more than welcome for the Kneazle cat and he hopes that I'll keep Professor Moody's Words of Wisdom in mind while I'm traveling."

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" both Weasleys quoted at the top of their lungs.

"He also says that I'm such a good writer that I should think of making a career out of it. So, what does your letter say?" Ginny prodded. She left out the part where Harry said that her letters were always welcome and that reading them made him feel better. There were things that she didn't feel she needed to share with anyone.

Ron made a face, and then said: "You and Hermione ought to write The Great Wizarding Novel. You two could probably pull it off." Before Ginny could react to the compliment, he pulled his letter open. "Ron, glad you had finished your essays. Now I don't have to worry about your Mum transfiguring me into a garden gnome or anything. Have fun with the Firebolt. (Like you need to be told to do that!) I really think you have a chance to make the team this year. I don't recall that any of the sixth-years are particularly interested in playing Quidditch and Seamus and Dean keep talking about becoming Beaters. I reckon they'll have a good shot at it next year. (You know, the thought of Hogwarts without the twins is rather depressing.)"

"Depressing without the twins?" chortled Ginny. "Does he mean Fred and George?"

Ron shook his head. "I always knew he was barking." Then moved his leg in order to avoid Ginny's kick.

"Then he mentions the stuff he found in the attic," Ron said. He didn't read the part about 'Snuffles' giving him an early birthday party and that he'd received some really cool stuff. Not the least of which was a snake rope from Hagrid and a chocolate cake from Madam Maxime. He also didn't read the part that said: "You'll have to wait and see the really cool present. It's along the lines of the Marauder Map, only cooler. By the way, I got the Map back, too."

"Anything else?" Ginny prompted.

"Erm, yeah, Hagrid sent him a snake rope and Madam Maxime sent him some fancy chocolate cake. I guess they weren't sure they'd be able to mail it on his birthday, so they sent it early."

"How nice!" Ginny said.

"I wonder if that's what is in the box," Molly said, coming into the kitchen. She took a small cardboard box and inside was some squished, but delicious chocolate cake.

"By the way, Ginny, a family friend sent you a cloak," Molly said.

Ginny sighed. Family friends (more like family fiends!) were always sending their leftovers to them. Most of the time, the clothing was so hideous that Molly wound up using them for cleaning rags.

"Don't be like that, Missy!" Molly warned. "Look before you decide!"

Ginny looked.

So did Ron.

"Whoa!" Ron said. "Somebody had good taste!"

"He said he found it in the attic and didn't want to see it wasted," Molly said as Ginny tried on the green-lined, black wool cloak. "It will be good for wearing at school, even if the lining is the wrong color."

As far as Ginny was concerned, the lining was exactly the right color. But she didn't say so. Ron and her Mum were being nice about her crush on Harry, but there was no need to constantly parade it under their noses! She ran over to look at herself the best she could in the mirror over the mantel.

"Now that's quality!" the mirror said approvingly.

"Yes," Ginny said. "This is wonderful! I'll write a thank you note right away!"

"There's no need," Molly said, smiling. "I've already told him about your undying gratitude. Now, go make sure your suitcase is packed. You're leaving for the Grangers this afternoon, remember." She shooed Ginny up the stairs.

Ron finished his cake and pumpkin juice thoughtfully. It was so unlike his mother to not insist that Ginny write the thank you note herself. He wondered… but how could Harry have sent the cloak AND the birdcage with Hedwig? Could the snowy owl carry that much? Ron went up to his room to grab the Firebolt. Maybe a quick flight would clear his mind. This family had way too many secrets going on just now.






Author's notes for Chapter 15:

CHAPTER UPDATE!

I changed the washing machine into a front loading machine. ** I added a few names to Harry's list of 'possibly sane' wizards that I left out the first time. ** I fixed Wormtail's description to be the rat color. ** I changed the scene where Harry turns back from being a cat so it doesn't look like Sirius is totally callous.


Hi, Punkin! As you may have noticed, I decided that 'Punkin' was the perfect nickname for Arthur to call Ginny.

Sorry for the long delay. I was trying to avoid cliffhangers, so this chapter is about three chapters long. I'm still looking at about twenty chapters total.

Just so you don't need to ask: Harry put the letters in Hedwig's cage, then wrapped the cage in the cloak so she could carry everything. Molly is vastly amused at this.

All the Sirius scenes in this and previous chapters were lifted from the sequel to this story – A Sirius Situation. I decided they'd fit better here. So "A Sirius Situation" will be shorter than originally planned.

(July 16, 1976 was my sixteenth birthday, which I celebrated 3,000 miles or so away from home. I had Chinese food for the first time and got to be part of the restaurant's magician's show. It was cool.)

Dumbledore's mother occasionally called him 'Honey Bee,' in case you were wondering about the 'embarrassing nickname.'

In-jokes in the attic: The jinxed spindle is from Sleeping Beauty. The silver slippers are from the novel The Wizard of Oz (as opposed to the MGM movie, which had ruby slippers). The glass slipper is from Cinderella. Even Ginny recognized the lamp from Aladdin. The apple wood wardrobe is from The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe. Pixie in the boot is Puss In Boots. I expect you recognized the riding cloak with the red hood.

Why make Harry an Abyssinian rather than a black cat? I based it on personality, rather than coloring. Here are a couple of abstracts from the "Kitten Buyer's Guide" by Carolyn Osier, as quoted at : "Abyssinians must be one of the most intelligent animals ever created." And "It is a very people-oriented cat. Not a lap cat... but a cat that likes to be with people, a cat that wants to know what you are doing - that wants to help. There is probably no breed anywhere more loyal than the Aby. Once you have acquired an Aby as a companion, you will never be able to complain that no one understands you. Abys are very good at training people to do just what they want them to do."

Anyway, on to review responses:

DaBear: Thanks for the review! Punning is my second favorite thing in the world to do, right after writing cliffhangers. I've noticed a lot of puns in Rowling's work. (Floo/Flue powder comes to mind.)

Bob: Thanks for the review! ** Guess my memory isn't as good as I thought. I could have sworn that Wizarding photos were black and white. *shrug* Oh, well, in my AU, they are. ** Actually, there were several things I liked better in the movie. Less Dursleys for one. And 'Why couldn't it be follow the butterflies?' and 'Hermione will be out of the Hospital Wing as soon as she stops coughing up fur balls!' Also, in the Dueling Club scene: In the book, Snape insults Neville, in the movie, he insults Ron's broken wand. I really liked that better. ** Sorry, Daniel Harris is unmarried as of this writing. ** Hope you like the trunk scene!

Satchel: Thanks for the review! Sorry, this story is only lightweight H/G. The serious stuff comes in "A Sirius Situation."

Rhiain: Thanks for the review! Neither Hermione nor Harry can have a Watch Out, but they'll have other protections. And frankly, I would pity any idiot who attacked Hermione's parents while she was around.

Lan: Thanks! I hope you appreciate all the work I put in to avoid nasty cliffhangers this time!

Taself: Thanks! Glad Hermione's parents ring true. ** Sure, ask anything you want!

Angelbach: Thanks for the review! I'm so glad you like the story! And thanks for telling me what part of the story you like!

Shyanne: Thanks for reviewing! Yep, I love writing Weasleys, they're my favorite Wizarding family. (Especially when you include Harry and Hermione as honorary redheads!)

coolone007: Thanks for reviewing my story! Harry leaves the Dursleys in the next chapter. ** I'll check out your story as soon as I get the chance.

MoNmOn: Thanks!

Female Fred: Thanks!

Rowan: Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you care enough to find out what happens next! And I'm really glad that my story line is coming across as plausible.

Alla: Thanks for reviewing! Technically, this is only one chapter, but I swear it's three chapters long. ** I really hope Rowling is finished killing off Marauders. (Or if she has to kill another one, let it be Peter!) I've got my fingers crossed over Sirius. If she kills him, I may just stop reading the series! ** I put my own words into Sirius' mouth. I would want to keep Harry, too! (Heck, I want to keep Sirius!)

starwest45: Thanks for the review! ** Yes, those owls are getting their workouts! Especially once they start flying from Bulgaria! ** I'm flattered that you were quoting me to your friend! And thanks for telling me which parts you liked. That really does help a writer, you know. ** I had a cat named Pixie, once. She was a very good cat and I still miss her. ** Yep, I managed to get Emma, Rupert AND Daniel in there. (As well as Richard HARRIS.)

Alla: Thanks for the review! ** Glad you like my version of Dumbledore. I like him a lot. He gives people a free hand because he doesn't presume he can dictate what's best for everybody. People need to make their own decisions. ** That business with the hams is the kind of story I figured he would tell. (Especially after telling that story about the bathroom that only appeared at certain times. I wonder if Harry will find that one?)

Chary: Thanks for the lovely long review! ** Yep, I'm already working on "A Sirius Situation." Some of those chapters actually appeared in this story. ** Dumbledore might very well be an expert on Muggle sweets. Don't know if he'd be familiar with root beer floats, though. (Do British people drink root beer floats?) ** Thanks for telling me the parts you particularly liked. ** When I thought of the term 'Watch Out,' I knew I had to use it! ** Yep, paid tribute to Daniel Radcliffe and Richard Harris with one mention. ** I'm updating as fast as I can! Actually, I could have posted this chapter in installments, but Lan doesn't like cliffies. ** Hope to see your next chapter soon!

Punkin: Thanks for the compliments!

Ozma: "The elevator stopped at chapter thirteen, and I got out but nothing was there..." Hee hee! ** You mean that the tea with the Grangers was a mixture of seriousness and Siriusness? *grin* ** Nobody's ever mentioned that Hermione saved Penelope's life. I thought it was worth bringing up. ** I figure Harry told Ron and Hermione about Dumbledore having red hair in Riddle's memory. ** I also figure that if the Grangers let Hermione stay with Harry when Sirius Black was on the loose, they weren't the kind to grab their daughter and run (no matter how attractive that option might seem.) ** Had to mention our favorite Spinx! ** I think Harry has to be very powerful to have Voldemort so worried.

Eris, Queen of the Shadows: Thank you for the compliments! I am so flattered that you put me on your favorites' list! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! ** Yes, I did mean to pay homage to the actors with the names of Hermione's family. ** I'll try to update fast. I want this story finished so I'll have enough time for "A Sirius Situation." ** When love creeps up on Harry, it won't smack him with a frying pan! (A broom, maybe, but not a frying pan.)

Katrina: Thanks for the review and the compliments on my Watch Outs!

Tempest: Thanks for the review! Here's lots more!

Me: (erm, the reviewer who signed herself or himself as 'me', not me, the writer): Thanks for the review! Yes, I do read a lot. I love books!

Alina: Thanks for the review! Sorry to keep you waiting for chapter fifteen! It kept expanding on me! ** "A Sirius Situation" is the sequel to this story and it isn't posted anywhere. ** I haven't forgotten the disease or the trunk. I'm just taking my own sweet time in getting to them. ** I'm calling Viktor's brother by the Bulgarian equivalent of "Tom". ** Thanks for pointing out the spelling error!

The Queen of Fire and Ice: Thanks! ** Update soon with a REAL chapter? But this is a fantasy story!! ;-)

Pseudonym Sylphmuse: I understand about homework! Been there, done that, got the grey hairs to prove it! ** Thanks for the lovely long review!
Ch 8: I love the idea of paying a mirror by polishing until it shines like the sun! I'll have to steal, erm, use that idea somewhere! (It would be nice if your mirror could give you advice, wouldn't it?) ** Ginny's brother's knew she was a girl, they just hadn't realized that she had made that transition from cute ickle girl to a GIRL!
Ch 9: Everybody picks on Errol, I figured it was time for him to get some of his own back. ** Thanks for all the compliments! Glad I could help you expand your vocabulary!
Ch 10: I figured that Harry had to have drooled on his godfather at least once. And Sirius had to have changed diapers at least once. ** I love the idea of "Snuffles the Wonder Dog!" ** Loved your description of you enjoying the story! Peanut butter is a good thing to eat while reading Harry Potter. (I wonder if the British like peanut butter or is it an American thing?) ** Snake ropes are fun. You'll see.
Ch 11: *Blushes at the praise* I like the image of the giggling puddle. I think that may happen to Ginny at some point! You have such great imagery in your reviews I'll have to check out your stories!
Ch 12: I'd think Lily would have been a full Marauder. She may have gone along just to keep the boys from getting into too much trouble! Heaven forfend she let that cutie James get lead down the road to Perdition by that Black character!
Ch 13: triskaidekaphobia.
Ch 14: I think Fred and George admire Dumbledore. I mean, anybody who would hire a werewolf has to be aces in their book, right? ** Dumbledore has lived long enough to know not to take himself seriously. He's definitely my kind of guy. (Wonder if he has any great-grandsons wandering around.)

Allison: Thank you!

Crazyfriendsfan: Thanks for the kind words! ** You've seen Harry's Animagus form this chapter. ** As for your Animagus form -- I once had a dog named Abby. She was a clever beagle/terrier mix who was very protective of her family! Maybe that's what you would be.

RogueAngel: Actually, I've never read any Wayside School books. (That's a book series, isn't it?) Maybe I should check them out this July. ** Thanks for the review and for the compliments!! (And thanks for reviewing Chapter 13! )

Von: This story should be finished soon! Thanks for bearing with me and thanks for the lovely long review! ** I'm flattered that you added me to your favorites list! Thank you! ** I always get worried when the next chapter isn't there, myself. ** I have the same theory – If you like a person writes, you might like what a person reads. I'll check out your list as soon as I have time. (I want to finish this story, so I don't have a lot of time to read.) ** If I were a mother, Harry is the kind of boy I'd encourage my daughter to like. He's a good kid, for all his trouble-attracting qualities. On top of that, Molly would rather Ginny chase after a boy that she knows than after someone that she's never met.

Harry hasn't shown any signs of romantic feelings for Ginny. I think he will, but I want it to come on him gradually. He still has to deal with his feelings for Cho. ** I'm not sure exactly how long it will be, but I'm thinking twenty actual chapters, Chapter Thirteen doesn't count as a chapter. ** Sorry, Daniel won't be showing up in this story. I couldn't fit him in. I love your ideas for a summer in the Muggle world! I think I may do a story about the summer between Harry's fifth and sixth years that would have Daniel and lots of things that you mentioned -- seaside and circuses! Way cool! ** Harry has some white streaks in his hair. I'm actually basing this on my hair because I started getting white hairs when I was sixteen. (I blame trigonometry.) If Harry had been American, the white streaks in his black hair might have meant he was going to be a skunk! Dead useful critters, skunks, offend them and you have stink spray all over you!


Well, this chapter certainly got plump! Hope it was worth the wait!** Chapter thirteen is missing by design, not by accident. ** THANK YOU FOR ALL THE COMPLIMENTS!

Caisha: Thanks for the kind review! Hope the length of this story makes up for the length of time it took me to finish it! ** I figured that there's a reason that one of the "Old Crowd" had the same last name as Harry's former babysitter. Rowling seldom does anything for no reason. ** More Ron and some bad-tempered Ginny coming up!

VenusDeOmnipotent: You want Tom? Well, I've named Viktor Krum's brother "Foma" which (as I understand it) is the Bulgarian equivalent of Tom. I never did name Hermione's grandparents, maybe they're Tom and Maggie. ;-) ** Thanks for the review and for the compliments! I'll try to get over to your site to read more.

Alla: Wow! I'm flattered that you check so often! Chapter fifteen is here and sixteen will be posted soon! (Soon, soon!) (By the way, thanks for reviewing Chapter 13!)

Hpforever: *Blushes* What a sweet thing to say! Thank you so much!

Doom Song: Hi, hope you're enjoying the story! Sorry I had to leave so abruptly!

Malach: Thanks for the e-mail! I'm glad the story works for you. I try to keep my stories close to canon and I try to think of what else Rowling might do with them. Hope the story continues to please!