Namesake

A Harry Potter Fan Fiction

Written by Gale

Disclaimer - You know the drill. I don't own anybody.

Author's Note - It took a disgusting amount of time to get this new chapter out, and I am going to try and move things a little faster by July it will be kind of pointless won't it? This will be an AU then. Everything still stands. This is a draft, and I'm rusty. Revisions will be made. Concrit and any feedback is appreciated.

Chapter #4: Called Back to the Nest

To say that Molly Weasley "fussed" would have been using far too simple a word for her condition. Harry was not the least bit surprised to discover that news traveled quickly to the mother of his best friend and the rest of the family, and he and the twins were alone a mere two hours before the little woman came stamping out of the fireplace, face as red as her hair. Fred and George had the nerve to look stunned. Harry remembered the clock hanging in the kitchen in the Burrow that told Molly where her children and husband were, and what they were up to, at all times. That probably could have indicated lots, but it wouldn't have been a shock to discover that Molly had some latent power to sense when her intervention might be needed. She was a mother, after all.

Needless to say, there she and her husband Arthur were, the latter doing his very best to calm his near-hysterical spouse, but she was far too intent upon giving the twins a lecture that not even a Howler could do justice. Arthur Weasley looked tired, his graying hair stringy and disheveled; his face, like his wife's, was smudged with soot from the quick travel.

"Are you both completely mad?" Molly demanded.

Fred and his brother were at least wise enough to know when not to show they knew that her anger would die out eventually. "Now Mum, we "

"Do you have any idea how dangerous this is for Harry? Bringing him out here with no protection after all these murders and things…"

Harry felt his stomach drop with guilt. The home of the Dursleys had been a place he had to go to, despite his dislike of his family, for it was one of the only places where he was truly safe from Voldemort and his followers.

Arthur Weasley cleared his throat when his wife trailed off, seemingly while she thought up some other reasons why their decision to bring Harry out to Hogsmeade could trigger the Apocalypse. Knowing her, those reasons could range from lack of proper food and comfort to how sleeping in a joke shop could somehow lead to his head falling off. "Now Molly, dearest, I don't think…"

"Not. Now. Arthur," she said tersely. She had to have been in that moment the angriest that Harry'd ever seen her. However, Fred and George did not seem to be cowering as much as they should have. Perhaps so many years of Angry Mollies finally wore their fear factor down to nothing. Harry had to admit that he felt the same way about the Dursleys nowadays. "And I'll have you know, I'm not the only one who thinks this is foolishness," she went on, holding up a folded piece of parchment in her hand, "This is a letter from Headmaster Dumbledore. Harry, you have the choice of either going back to your relatives or staying in Grimmauld Place. But you can't stay here."

Harry felt his blood run cold at that. He did not wish to return to the Dursleys (nor was he sure they would let him back in), but the thought of going back to Grimmauld Place sent literal bolts of pain up along his spine. On one hand, the idea excited him, to be able to explore again, and perhaps even connect himself to some more of his Godfather's things, find something to salvage his memory of him. On the other, he did not want such a close reminder of Sirius' passing. He could already imagine himself in his waking hours chasing through the darkened beaten hallways of the estate, searching for a man who was no longer there and could never be again.

Molly's brow creased in worry, possibly regret. Watching her now, he realized then that he was not the only person he knew that mourned Sirius. A few seconds, and he could already see her eyes glistening. She reached up and brushed away a few escaping tears fretfully, determined not to let herself lose her authoritative presence over her sons. She spoke gently. "I know that may be a hard decision, Harry dear, but it wouldn't be for long anyhow. Dumbledore has told me that you can come and stay at the Burrow in a week, if you like."

"No," he interjected, nodding to himself without even thinking. "I wouldn't mind staying there, I think. Who else is there?"

The frown shifted into a nervous if not assenting smile. "Albus has been coming and going a lot, I have been told. But Miss Tonks and Remus have been there quite frequently, too."

Harry nodded. It'd never occurred to him to write Lupin. Now that he was reminded, however, the former DADA professor his favorite made no attempts to contact him, either. He must have had lots to do, of course, what with being in the Order and all. With it now public that Voldemort had risen again, and with these new killings, much should have been going on.

It was easier thinking that than to think he was being avoided.

Shifting his hands nervously, he was finally reminded that he had a letter in his hands. He unrolled the parchment, swallowing with apprehension. Part of him had longed for some word from the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The year had ended so tensely, strung with grief and frustration, and some assurance from the old wizard any kind.

Harry,

Notwithstanding the disturbing occurrences taking place here in the Wizarding World, I am pleased to know that we may correspond on more positive terms than those of the previous Summer. I trust your trip with Fred and George Weasley has been pleasant, and I am sorry that you may not remain with them in their establishment longer. I am sure you understand why. Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks are waiting to greet you at the House, and I am told that Miss Granger will be arriving there in a few days, so you needn't be without your peers for long. Molly Weasley will come to you within the week to give to you your supply list and also the result of your Ordinary Wizarding Levels.

I will come and go from time to time, and if you need to speak to me about anything, all you need do is ask.

With Regards,

Headmaster Dumbledore

Harry frowned; he'd forgotten entirely about the OWLs, which would decide what kind of classes he would be taking this year and possibly what career he would have once he graduated. With that reminder, and with the promise that his friends would join him soon, he felt sure that he would not get any sleep in the next couple days. There were no nightmares this time, and this summer, he did not have the threat of expulsion due to underage wizardry dogging his footsteps.

"I suppose I am ready to go anytime," he offered.

Molly looked relieved. "Before we take you there, would you like to join us at the Burrow for dinner, Harry dear?" she asked. "Dumbledore said it would be all right if you wanted to."

The prospect of a freshly cooked meal by Molly Weasley chased away any apprehension due to Grimmauld place, or even the results of his tests during fifth year. To be able to spend some time with Ron and Ginny, as well even the worst of moods could not deter some desire for that.

That, and he knew there wouldn't be much to speak for dinner-wise here at the shop, short of some jinxed candies by the looks of things. Judging by the hopeful, doe-like expressions of the twins, this had to be true.

"Have us home for a light repast, mum?" Fred asked, coming close and throwing a long arm around his mother's shoulders. He rested his cheek against the top of her head, and soon his brother followed suit, posting himself on her other side.

"We haven't had time to do groceries, what with picking up Harry and all," George added. "Would have been shameful hosts to just leave him by himself to run errands."

Molly regarded her two sons flatly, fighting a sour smile as she curled her own shorter arms around each of them in turn. "Only if you two will close shop and spend the weekend," she assented. "Everything is so quiet without the two of you, and you worry your poor mother."

Fred and George glanced at one another, sharing a grin as they agreed. Harry had to hide a smirk of his own, recalled that they were only just saying how they could not simply abandon their business. Such was their fickle nature when their stomachs were empty, after all.

"We haven't had any shoppers for a few days anyhow," George allowed.

"Taking the weekend off can't hurt," smiled Fred.

And just as quickly as the Weasley parents had come into the store, the tension seemed to be sucked out from the windows and the cracks in the walls. Arthur took a breath, relieved. "Well, that's settled, then." He gestured at the fireplace. "Let's hurry along, then. Lock up, boys; Harry? Are all of your things gathered together?"

"I think so." Harry strode to Hedwig's cage, which was stacked atop his trunk. He reached to pick up the copy of the Daily Prophet, his eye trained upon the screaming image of Draco Malfoy again, and again he did not know what to feel. Malfoy, one of perhaps six to ten students who could actually hold the name "pureblood", was through and through an insufferable git. It didn't feel right to allow himself even a self-important glower.

"All right, Harry?"

He looked up at Fred and folded the paper hurriedly. "May I borrow this?"

"Keep it," Fred replied with a shrug. "It's no trouble."

Harry folded the paper a second time and shoved it into his back pocket. He would read it more thoroughly later, and see if he could find anything else worth mulling over, too.

TO BE CONTINUED….