Chapter eight.

Nell had only expected to see one social worker that Thursday afternoon. She was surprised, therefore, to see two officials standing on the stoop when she answered the door. The first was exactly as she had expected: an older woman with an unfashionable suit, a severe hairstyle, and stern but tired eyes.

The second, however, was like no one she had ever seen. For starters, he was old: he had to be over eighty, at least. He was also dressed quite impeccably, but quite above the means of most social workers. His long, flowing white beard was fairly startling as well. Lastly, he was smiling – no, beaming – as he stepped into the flat.

The woman was far from smiling, however. She jerked her head at the older man, and he walked over to Harry, smiling reassuringly as he led him into the other room. Nell could hear him introducing himself as Mr. Dumbledore.

Her interviewer, though, kept to her stern mien and refused the offer of a cup of tea, although she consented to sit down. "I am Minerva McGonagall," she said curtly. "Is it Miss – Barton?"

"Burton," said Nell, worrying even more. If she couldn't even get her name right…

"Ah," said Ms. McGonagall. "Miss Wilkens has rather atrocious handwriting. Shall we begin?"

Nell nodded, nervously, and the questions began to come fast and furious. Questions about her current occupation (student), lifestyle (sedate), job prospects (fair), family situation (supportive) – even the flat itself.

"It is a bit…small," the older woman said critically. "He won't have a room of his own, it looks like." She craned her neck and looked pointedly at a small pile of clothing next to the sofa.

"It didn't hurt me, growing up," said Nell hotly. "It's perfectly comfortable, and miles better than anything the Dursleys were willing to give him." She crossed her arms defensively across her chest.

The woman simply nodded and wrote something on her clipboard. Nell felt a terrible impulse to take it away from her and read all that had been written. Had she said something wrong?

But the woman was continuing her questions and nearly all of Nell's concentration was focussed on answering them perfectly. Occasionally, though, she could hear bursts of laughter from the other room, and she envied Harry dreadfully as she answered another of the rapid-fire questions.

After nearly three quarters of an hour, Ms. McGonagall finally looked up from her clipboard and gave her a frosty smile. "I believe that wraps things up on my end, Miss Burton."

"Thank you," said Nell weakly.

"Mr. Dumbledore will see you now, and I will talk with Harry. I'll go fetch him, please excuse me." And she rose and went into the other room. In a few moments, Mr. – Dumbledore, had it been? – walked into the room and gave her a kindly smile.

Nell smiled back in relief.

He sat down next to her on the futon, currently serving as the sofa. "Hello, dear. Miss Varton?"

"Burton," said Nell resignedly.

"Ah! My apologies, of course. My eyes aren't what they used to be, I'm afraid." The named eyes twinkled cheerfully at her over the half-moon spectacles perched on his nose. Nell couldn't help but smile back.

"What questions do you have for me?" she blurted, then blushed at how blunt that had sounded.

Dumbldore simply smiled. "I fear the reverse will be true. I have some rather surprising information about Harry for you."

Nell looked at him quizzically.

"Harry's a wizard, Miss Burton," said Dumbledore calmly and with apparent sincerity.

"Oh," said Nell with mock gravity. "Well. That does explain rather a lot." She couldn't maintain the straight face and had to choke down a sudden giggle. "Look, why are you having me on? You can't be serious, of course."

"Oh, I'm quite serious. You said it explains a lot. What have you seen Harry do that would need explanation?"

Nell thought. "Well, he got in trouble for being on the school roof, when he claims that he only meant to jump behind some bins. Oh, and he made his hair grow from a dreadful cut his aunt gave him. I really don't want to talk about that incident with the snake!" She shuddered.

"Oh, indeed?" asked Dumbledore, sounding impressed. "The roof? That sounds a good deal like accidental Apparition, which is quite rare. And the hair growth is quite encouraging as well. Do you have any other possible explanation for what happened?"

Nell reluctantly shook her head. "No-o-o," she said, drawing out the syllables skeptically. "But do you have any proof for your explanation?"

Dumbledore took out a thin, polished stick – a magic wand, she supposed – and waved it at her end table, muttering something under his breath. It suddenly turned into a very bewildered looking pig. He waved the wand again and the pig turned back into a table. He murmured again and a bouquet of flowers suddenly burst from the end of the wand, which he presented to her with a flourish.

Nell blinked. "Well. Goodness." She automatically leaned down to smell the flowers, and they turned into butterflies, then vanished in a shower of sparkles. She felt quite dazed at this display.

Dumbledore smiled, and then leaned forward. "Now that you know what Harry is, and what I am, I must ask you a few questions. First, how exactly did you meet Mr. Potter?"

Nell opened her mouth to begin, then closed it and sighed. After a moment, she began again. "When my father died, Mum and I moved around quite a lot. Trying to run from it, I suppose. But we spent a year in Little Whinging right before I left for uni, and I started minding Harry for pocket money." She wrinkled her nose. "If Harry wasn't such a doll, for two pins I'd've quit. The Dursleys were just awful. But he needed me, and so I stayed."

"Interesting. It sounds like you've known him quite a long time," said Dumbledore neutrally. "Why did you pick now to take him?"

"I didn't actually intend to at first, really. I wanted him to have a bit of a holiday, just a week, but the Dursleys decided that they wouldn't take him back after that. I didn't mind, not really; he'd told me that last night I babysat that they locked him in the cupboard under the stairs for punishments, and I couldn't leave him to more of that."

Dumbledore's lips compressed and he looked furious. Nell paused and looked at him, but he simply smoothed out his expression and nodded for her to continue.

"I only have a few weeks left before I leave school, and I'm just about able to support both of us on my scholarship. Once I start working, things will get even better. I just – I couldn't leave him for one more minute, I really couldn't. I felt as if I walked out of that house without him, I wouldn't be able to breathe, but when I told him we'd be leaving, I felt miles better. I suppose my conscience decided to make a stand."

Dumbledore nodded and sighed. "Ah, yes, I thought that would be the case. I'm afraid, Miss Burton, that it was not entirely your own free will that suggested you take Harry away from the Dursleys. You see, Harry's accidental magic is quite strong – Apparation at eight! – and once he found someone who cared for him, he managed to manipulate you. Unconsciously, of course, the dear boy, he didn't know what he was doing.

"But the fact remains that because it was Harry's dearest wish that he be removed from his family, he managed to compel you to do just that with very little trouble. I can reverse the effect, if you'd like, leaving you free to choose whether or not to keep Harry or return him to his relatives."

Nell looked at him, aghast. "Are you joking? I love Harry like my own child, but even if he was completely spoilt and unlovable I'd have wanted to take him out of there. Did you know that they locked him in the cupboard for punishment? The cupboard! In any case, whatever my original motivation, Harry is definitely mine now. So you needn't bother waving your magic wand or sprinkling fairy dust about or such." She sat back and crossed her arms defiantly.

Dumbledore looked amused and -- was that satisfaction? Smugness? His eyes twinkled at her, and Nell couldn't help but feel that she had given exactly the answer he was looking for. "Thank you, then, Miss Burton," he said. "I am grateful to you for what you are doing for Harry."

Nell hesitated, then leaned forward. "I have a favour to ask," she said. Dumbledore raised a questioning eyebrow. "Do you have anything from his parents? Any pictures, or stories, or possessions? I think it would be nice if Harry had something nice about them – all the Dursleys would say was that they died in a car crash."

Dumbledore looked pained. "Car crash?" he said, his voice rising slightly. "They told him they died in a car crash?"

Nell nodded, eyebrows raised. "I take it that's not what really happened?"

Dumbledore exhaled swiftly, in what may have been intended to be a wry chuckle, but sounded very unamused. "You could say that. They were, in fact, murdered by an insane evil wizard."

Nell sat back. "Oh," she said stupidly, unable to completely absorb that. "Not at all the same thing, then."

Dumbledore made a better attempt at a chuckle the second time. "No indeed." He glanced at his watch. "Perhaps we should bring Harry back from his interview. It may be best if I tell you both the story at the same time."

Nell nodded. She'd definitely want to be able to hug Harry for this, although she wasn't sure if she'd be offering comfort or taking it.

"I do have a few questions first, though," she said, stopping Dumbledore as he made to rise. He sat back down, attentive. "This accidental magic – what all can he do? What can I do to help – is it something he gets over? He's gotten in trouble at school, is there something I can do there?" She cocked her head expectantly to signal that the flood of questions had ended.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Oh, my, you are a parent, indeed. Well, accidental magic isn't something that you need to worry about. It's usually quite harmless – Harry told me a story about a particularly atrocious shrinking jumper? – and reasonably easy to mend. He does appear quite happy with you; if he does become upset, and he will, as any normal eight-year-old does, simply try to keep calm, both of you. It may not prevent breakages, for example, which are common, but it will prevent the more dramatic kind of magic. In short, Miss Burton, do not worry. Simply continue to love Harry, and the rest will come." He nodded sagely.

Nell felt reassured despite herself and took a deep breath. "All right then," she said. "Shall we fetch Harry from Ms. McGonagall's clutches?"

Dumbledore raised a hand to hide his smile as he rose. "Indeed, Miss Burton. Indeed."