Lost: Young Man, Answers to Harry

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"It's not fair!"

"Shut up!"

"You pig!"

"Ow! Stop it!"

"MUM!"

Molly Weasley, brandishing her wand in one hand and an armful of school robes in the other, marched into the bedroom with a face that could have proclaimed murder. Her two youngest children were locked in furious combat. Ron was pulling on his sister's plaits so hard he was almost lifting her off the ground, while Ginny was screaming (in rage, rather than pain) and twisting her brother's arm whilst digging her nails into his skin.

"Stop it! Both of you!" Molly dropped the robes and wrenched the two children apart. Ron and Ginny wriggled, each trying to take another swipe at their opponent.

"She's being so annoying!" Ron yelled, "she won't leave me alone!"

"He won't let me see his books! He's so selfish!" Ginny shrieked, "I just want to look!"

"I DON'T CARE," Mrs Weasley bellowed, "YOU WILL NOT START FIGHTS IN MY HOUSE! GINNY, GO TO YOUR ROOM! RON, YOU TOO!"

"We both share the same room," Ron pointed out, still glaring daggers at his sister.

"Then get downstairs this instant, before I throw you out the window!" his mother snarled. Ginny made a rude hand gesture behind her mother's back and scampered away. Ron picked up his books, followed his mother into the hall and stomped down the stairs, muttering curses under his breath. He flumped down onto the rug and began to return to his previous activity, which was taping the pages of the books back into their spines. They were all second-hand texts from his brothers, Fred and George, and considerably well-worn. Percy was sitting sideways on the armchair not far away, scribbling on a piece of parchment. He looked at Ron in irritation, but Ron's mutinous expression warned him not to say anything.

A few minutes later, a small alarm clock on the mantelpiece began to squeal in a high-pitched voice, "VISITOR!" it shrieked, "VISITOR! NO DARK MAGIC DETECTED! VISITOR!"

Mrs Weasley could be heard fuming loudly as she went to answer the door. However, her tone changed abruptly to one of welcome as she opened it.

"Come in, come in dear," Mrs Weasley said, "did you want a drink? I'm just trying to get the hems done in these robes but I think there's some tea in the kettle."

"That's alright, Molly," a cheery voice replied, "I just popped over to see Charlie."

"He'll be back in a few minutes," Mrs Weasley replied, "now, I really must get these done, dear, if you'll excuse me…"

Her footsteps receded, and Ron looked up to see Nymphadora Tonks standing in the doorway, grinning with her hands the pockets of her violently purple jeans. Her hair was shorter than ever and coloured a glittering silver like strands of stars.

"Wotcher, Ron," she said, "where's Charlie?"

"Ministry," grunted Ron, his tongue between his teeth as he carefully laid another piece of tape on a rip in his textbook, "still trying to get another permit."

"Okay," Tonks dropped herself onto the sagging couch and lay on her stomach, her elbows propped up on the ends and her chin resting on her knuckles. She was staring at Percy with a cheeky look on her face. He was ignoring her with great determination.

"Writing a novel?" she asked finally.

Percy glanced at her and Tonks crowed in triumph, "gotcha!" She had been trying to make the younger boy look at her. Percy had long gotten over his crush for Tonks, but she had yet to cease teasing him about it. Percy always acted as if he had never met anything more frustrating than Nymphadora Tonks: yet he always became strangely jolly as soon as he heard she was coming over to visit.

"I am trying to revise my arithmancy before the new term," Percy said with a sniff.

"Oh, come on Perce, you don't start for another two weeks," Tonks grinned, "lighten up a bit. Got any news about Bill and Iolanthe? He knocked her up yet?"

Iolanthe was Bill's girlfriend, "Not as far as we know," Percy said seriously.

"But it won't be long now," said Charlie from the doorway. He pulled off his cloak, dumped it on the banister and dropped onto the couch on top of Tonks legs.

"Ouch! You lump," Tonks wriggled out from under him and then proceeded to drape her legs over his as if he were a footrest, "any luck with the permit?"

Charlie shook his head, and Tonks' smile drooped.

Getting a permit to leave England was a constant topic of whispered conversation in the Weasley household. Ron did not quite understand the process himself. Apparently, the Ministry of Magic did not like wizards and witches leaving Britain and going to live in other countries, and so a few years ago they had brought in a visa system. It meant you needed a permit in order to travel out of the England. If you got caught trying to leave the country without one (and the borders were heavily guarded) you could be sent to Azkaban for over a year. As far as Ron could gather, it seemed the Ministry had gotten the idea that everyone was trying to leave England to get away from you-know-who, and they had decided if they didn't put a stop to it, there wouldn't be anyone left to support their side of the war.

Charlie, who had finished his course studying dragons and had been an offered a job in Romania, but the Ministry had so far refused to give him a permit. He had to keep going back to reapply until they relented. Bill had managed to get a visa to go to France with his girlfriend Iolanthe, where he was studying curse breaking, and Molly and Arthur hoped that if Charlie and Percy got permits as well, the ministry would allow the rest of the family to go and live with them. They no longer felt it was safe to remain in England, with the rumours of war growing every day, and wanted the whole family to leave as soon as possible. So far, however, the Ministry was quite determined that families like the Weasleys would not sneak under their radar.

"Ah, well," said Tonks tipping her head back with a sigh, "I suppose I'd miss you anyway."

Ron stopped paying attention as the conversation turned to gossip about friends and celebrities. He was just sticking the final pages into his Charms textbook when he heard the door open again and his father appeared in the kitchen, looking weary. Arthur Weasley was working as an enchanter for the defence department of the Ministry. He had lost his job in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office after the attacks on the Ministry seven years ago, but with his extensive knowledge of charming muggle objects, he had been offered a new job designing weapons for the use in the war. Mr Weasley disliked the work intensely, but there were so few jobs nowadays, he could not refuse the money. And even if he had tried to resign, the Ministry might well have forced him to continue his work, because, as their posters said, 'every wizard must do his part for the war effort!'

"Hello, dear," Molly hugged her husband and set the kettle boiling again, "any problems today?"

"Apart from those violins that seem to be repelling magic," Mr Weasley shrugged, "nothing we couldn't handle. How are you, darling?" he kissed her on the cheek.

"There's been a letter from Bill," said Molly, pulling the folded parchment out of her apron pocket. She had clearly been carrying it around with her all day, "we have to write back at once, Arthur. He says he and Iolanthe are going to some pro-werewolf rally to protest the French Ministry's new restrictions."

Mr Weasley poured himself a cup of tea and sat down at the table, "well, that's alright, isn't it? It will just be one of those student protests. Nothing dangerous."

Mrs Weasley looked exasperated, "Arthur, he's going to lose his permit if he's not careful! The French Ministry isn't exactly going to take kindly to that kind of protest, and they love any excuse to deport students!"

Arthur shook his head, "they can't take away his permit for marching down the street," he said, "besides, it's good that he's taking an interest in this sort of thing."

"But he's going to lose his job! Honestly, that boy is far too careless with these ridiculous ideals of his. It's not as if what the French Ministry does is of any concern of his. And just listen to this letter, going on about the government blowing the issue out of proportion – he seems oblivious to fact that werewolf attacks have doubled in the last six months."

"So the Daily Prophet tells us," Arthur replied dryly, sipping his tea, "and personally, I think he's right, even Minister Moody is getting caught up in the anti-werewolf feeling. But really, Molly, there's nothing we can do from here. Write whatever you like, he'll still go, and if he gets in a bit of trouble, well, he's not a child. He'll get himself out of it."

Molly huffed and clicked her tongue, "well, if he wants to spoil his future, so be it. I can't stop him."

Ron listened with only half an ear. His mother and father were always arguing about politics. If it wasn't werewolf rights, it was Ministry propaganda in the newspapers, and if it wasn't Ministry propaganda, it was the protection of muggle-borns, and if wasn't muggle-borns, it was something else.

"…and you remember old Hagrid, the groundkeeper at school? I heard he got in trouble because they reckoned he had giant blood. Dumbledore had to step in to get him out of it," Tonks was telling Charlie.

"Well, I wouldn't be surprise if he did have giant blood. The man's as big as a house," Charlie replied.

The name Hagrid made Ron remember his trip to Diagon Alley, "I met a boy yesterday who said he knew you from ages ago," he said idly, pressing the last of the tape down.

Charlie looked over at him, "what, at Diagon Alley?"

"Yeah. He said you saved his life, when he was just a little kid," Ron looked at his brother, who was trying to get a splinter out of Tonks' finger, "he talked about you having a broomstick. He said his name was Harry."

Charlie and Tonks both looked at Ron.

"He said his name was what?" Tonks whispered faintly.

"Harry," repeated Ron, "do you remember him?"

The two teenagers looked at one another, then back at Ron, surprise spreading across their faces, "what did he look like?" Charlie asked, "was he about your age? Did he have glasses?"

"And a little scar on his forehead?" Tonks added.

Ron nodded to all three questions, "he had scars all over. Around his right eye."

Charlie put his hand to his mouth, "gee-zus," he swore quietly.

Tonks looked as if she had just passed her Auror examinations: disbelieving but thrilled, "it can't be. Professor Lupin always – I mean, we thought – he gave the pretty distinct impression that he was dead!"

Charlie lowered his hands, "scars. On his face…oh, man, I thought they'd be able to heal him…oh, Harry, you poor kid."

Tonks and Ron both looked at him, "what do you mean?" Ron asked.

Charlie shook his head, "it's too awful. I had him in my arms, and his face…there was just so much blood, it looked…no, it was too awful, I can't even think it."

Tonks began to bounce up and down, "if he's alive, Charlie, we have to go find him! We have to find out what happened!"

Charlie raised any eyebrow, "he probably doesn't even remember us. And maybe there's a good reason Lupin never told us what happened. I mean, Harry – he must have gotten infected. Maybe he was taken away because he was a werewolf."

Tonks shook Charlies arm demandingly, "please, Charlie, I don't want to go snooping all by myself!"

Charlie sighed and rolled his eyes, "alright. Ron, did he tell you where he was living?"

Ron shook his head, "no. All he told me was that he was with his dad."

Tonks frowned, "that's not right. His parents are dead. That's how we met him in the first place. Unless…" her eyes widened, "Sirius! Charlie, my mum's cousin Sirius! He disappeared just after the ministry was attacked – but he was the one who sent Harry to Mum in the first place! She always said he was dead…oh, it's got to be him who's taking care of Harry," she began to grin, "do you think he kidnapped him? Do you think maybe he's working for you-know-who? Or maybe…"

"Sounds like you've already worked it all out," grumbled Charlie, "what do you need my help for?"

They continued to discuss the possibilities even once Ron had finished repairing his schoolbooks and gone upstairs. He dumped the books on the end of his bed and sat down, lost in thought. He was remembering the scarred face of the boy and wondering if he, too, had not seen him somewhere. He thought of seven years ago, when Dad had lost his job, and Charlie and Bill had gone missing when the Hogwarts train was attacked. Hadn't there been a boy who had come home with Charlie – a dark-haired boy with a sad face and a lonely smile? Ron could almost remember him…

Ron shrugged and headed back downstairs. Whoever the boy was, it wasn't anything to do with him, and Ron was too excited about Hogwarts to think about strangers from the past. Charlie and Tonks could do that for him.

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TBC