Me and Miss Bones, Chapter 3 Page
Me
and Miss Bones
Chapter 3
by Olafr – Harry Potter and associated milieu, characters, and situations are owned by J.K. Rowling and her licensees. This is a work of fan fiction, produced solely for enjoyment. No infringement of rights is intended.
Rating: PG-13
Last updated: 28 November 2005
Author's Notes: The opening section doesn't really fit in this part, but it's here rather than in Chapter 2 so that readers don't have to go back and read an edited part 2. When I revise this story for posting on Astronomy Tower, I'll move it into Chapter 2 then.
oOoOoOo
Albus Dumbledore sat in front of the fire in the sitting room that joined his living quarters to his office, his face pensive, staring into the flames. He was pondering the extraordinary meeting he had earlier that day with the new Minister of Magic, Amelia Bones.
The arrival of the routine change of address notification to Minerva McGonagall's office had set off a furore. He would not have believed that a Minister, particularly one as upright and principled as Amelia Bones, would have acted so quickly and cynically to secure a political advantage. He had gone to the Minister's office will all haste, determined to correct matters in a storm of indignation or pitying disappointment, whatever was required to return Harry to the safe haven of Privet Drive.
And then it had all gone horribly wrong. Amelia had allowed him to make a fool of himself and then informed him that not only had she removed Harry due to an active threat to his very life by the Dursleys, and not only were the Dursleys to be investigated in detail, but he himself would also be investigated.
For negligence. It was that which hit Albus the hardest. For all the precautions he had taken, and the measures he had taken to ensure the boy's privacy, he had allowed the boy to be sent into a situation where, had Amelia not intervened, the boy could have actually died, or failing that had his health ruined, possibly permanently. He had blithely assumed that Harry was going to a place where, if not actually loved, he would at least be safe. He had stationed guards outside the house, but had assumed that the threat would be external.
And perhaps it had been, for he truly did not believe that the Dursleys would normally act in the way they apparently had. The reports given by Nymphadora and Kingsley were horrifying – his neglect in not ensuring that Harry's condition was checked in actuality could have been disastrous.
Staring at the shifting, flickering orange-yellow flames, Albus Dumbledore pondered with sinking heart how he could possibly have let things get so far out of control.
OooOoOo
7 July, 1996
Dear Hermione,
I don't know if you've written to me (I've had problems with owls not being able to get to me so far this summer) but there have been some strange things happening lately. The Dursleys have been behaving really oddly (more so than usual). I don't want to go into details in a letter, but I'm now staying at a different location.
Did you hear about Madam Bones being appointed the new Minister? I think she's a good choice; when I saw her at my trial last year she seemed strict but very fair. I can only hope that she's what we (the wizarding world) need.
Have you thought about what you're going to study over the Summer break? We don't have assigned homework, of course. But I have Voldemort after me. So I was thinking of looking into two areas: offensive and defensive magic (you should have seen Dumbledore fighting Voldemort at the Ministry!); and Dementors. I don't like it that the Patronus will only chase them away. If they're going to be used against us, we have to be able to destroy them.
But the Dementors do work for us, I hear you argue; they guard Azkaban for us and serve in the Ministry, don't they? Well, I wonder if the Dementors have ever really been on our side. Ever since my third year they have tried to attack me whenever they see me. Remember the train? If they are used as guards, they must be controllable, yet they don't seem to have shown any control around me at all. As far as I'm concerned, Dementor sees Harry Potter; Dementor attacks. Lupin had to drive the one on the train away with a Patronus! They attacked me while playing Quidditch, moving inside school grounds where they had been specifically forbidden, and again, later when they attacked both Sirius and myself down by the lake. Perhaps it's not a control problem, but they are actively attacking me on sight. Perhaps they have really been working for Voldemort all along.
Apart from that shocking bit of conspiracy theory, not much has been happening with me. I was taken shopping yesterday and I finally managed to spend some gold on new clothes. We burned my old clothes last night and it felt really good. Like I was divorcing the Dursleys. I hope I never have to go back there again.
I hope you're having a lovely summer.
Your friend,
Harry.
OooOoOo
Dear Luna,
I don't know if you've tried to write me so far this Summer but I've been having trouble getting owls. I hope the problem is solved now. If you want to reply to this letter, ask Hedwig to wait and she'll carry your letter back to me.
How has your trip been so far – any early sightings of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack? If not, then don't worry, Summer's just barely begun. I'm sure you'll find one. And did you get all your stuff back at the end of term? I never quite got around to asking. I certainly hope you did.
I enjoyed our talk by the noticeboard, and I hope to have a chance to get to know you more, soon.
Your friend (I hope),
Harry.
OooOoOo
Harry sighed and wiped the remaining ink from end of his quill with the rag he kept for the purpose, making sure it was quite clean before replacing it together with his capped inkwell into his trunk. He had used his last two sheets of parchment to write to the people who were most important to him. He regretted that there wasn't a third sheet, as he wanted very much to write to Ron and Ginny, but he could get some from Diagon Alley soon enough, or perhaps ask someone to buy some on his behalf, and he could write then. Besides, they would probably know already through their father's contacts in the Ministry, or through the Order.
Sighing again, Harry rested his chin in the palm of one hand and looked out the window. He had letters, but no owl. Where are you, Hedwig? I hope you're all right.
It was Sunday, a beautiful Sunday morning. The idyllic weather of yesterday did not seem set to continue; heavy grey clouds were marching to cover the sky. The summer sun still shone here, but in the distance he could see rain falling beneath the cloud. It was still early, perhaps seven thirty, but the sun had woken him over two hours before. The house had been absolutely quiet, the only sound that of the sparrows as they chattered with each other outside his open window. He had not wanted to disturb the house, possibly even waking the other occupants, by moving around. He was not even really conscious of making that decision; it was the force of long summer-time habit to keep out of sight and not disturb the others. So he had written the letters, since he had nothing better to do.
Now that he was done, he wasn't sure what to do next. The house was still utterly silent, even though it was now after the time they had had breakfast yesterday. Perhaps the Bones slept in on a Sunday? Looking out at the gathering clouds, and down at the sunny yard by the house, he wanted to go outside and walk around a bit before it rained. Yet he hesitated, uncertain.
OooOoOo
"Susan, would you go and get Harry, please? It's time for breakfast." Susan Bones, who was just bouncing into the kitchen, turned about with a "Sure, Mum!". Thuds sounded as she ran upstairs.
Boy, what a sleepyhead, thought Susan as she reached the top of the stairs. Sleep in on a day like this, will he? I'll get him up for sure! She ended the thought with a giggle, as she paused outside his door. Readying herself, she flung the door open and caroled, "Wakey, wakey!"
Parchment flew into the air and the chair fell on its back to the floor, but Harry was nowhere to be seen. The bed was immaculately made, she saw, and his trunk was open but seemingly fully packed except for his clothes. The window was open, with the fresh outside air now blowing through the room now that the door was open to form a cross draft. She watched as the parchment settled to the floor, and finally spotted Harry. He was hunkered in the footwell of the desk, curled up into a ball. He was not looking at her, his arms were protecting his face and head... was he cowering?
"Harry!" she cried, her heart going out to him. She hurried over to the desk and knelt down, reaching out to give him a hug. "Are you all right?" At her touch, though, he flinched away and trembled. She laid her hand on one of his. "Harry?" she asked, gently. "It's me, Susan." She gripped his hand lightly. She felt him relax a little and smiled as she saw him look up to see her kneeling in front of him.
"Susan?" he gasped, and she felt him relax fully. What had happened to him that he would react like this?
"Yes. Are you all right?"
He nodded, and she backed away a little so he could come out. "Thought it was a dream," she heard him murmur. She wanted so much to hug him and make his hurts go away, but he would be skittish right now.
"Do you want breakfast?" she asked him instead, giving him room.
"Yes, please." He stood and offered her his hand. She took it with a smile and allowed him to help her to her feet, even though it was unnecessary. Part of being a woman, as her mother would say.
"After breakfast, how about a little swim? It's supposed to rain all afternoon, so this morning is our only chance."
"That would be lovely." She watched as Harry bent over and picked up the parchment that had gone flying, replacing the sheets on his desk and picking up the chair.
"Well, come on, then. Mother said that breakfast is getting cold."
Harry stared at her briefly, then looked to his closet. "I'll get dressed and come downstairs."
"Okay!"
OooOoOo
Harry stepped into the kitchen to find it warmly and brightly lit from the reflection of sunlight off the floor. Breakfast noises, the rasp of a knife on toast, the clink as something was set down on china, washed over him along with the sleepy warmth of the room and the welcoming smiles of the three occupants. Amelia sat as she had yesterday at the head of the table, a large mug steaming on the table. Amelia herself was visible only as a dark head of hair; the rest of her was hidden by the open newspaper she held in front of herself. Brigitte look up as he stepped into the room.
"Good morning, Harry," she caroled. "Slept in, did you? I'm glad; it's good to see that you're feeling more comfortable."
Embarrassed, Harry could not stop himself from blushing at her mistaken assumption. He kept his mouth shut, though, not wanting to disillusion her and have her think badly of him. Susan, though, looked up from her museli at her mother's statement. "Oh, Harry wasn't in bed when I went upstairs," she said blithely. "It looked like he'd been up for hours."
"Really? Why ever didn't you come down for breakfast, then? Even if you were studying or writing letters, it's always nicer to do it with friendly company and a cup of tea or coffee, don't you think, Em?"
"Mmm," hummed Amelia from behind her paper. Harry blushed further, and tried not to feel as though he was being hemmed in. They were really nice people, he reminded himself. They weren't the Dursleys. The weren't waiting for him to trip over some hidden rule, so there would be some thin justification for them to pounce. However for all his efforts, he could not stop himself from concentrating on the floor. Anything to escape the direct gaze of the well-meaning Brigitte.
"Well, sit yourself down and help yourself, Harry," Brigitte went on. "I don't think there's anything to feel bad about. You must be hungry, surely?"
He nodded, and sat down next to Susan as he had done yesterday morning. As he did so, two owls flew in through an open window. One was a Ministry owl that went to Amelia, forcing her to put down her newspaper, while the other was white and headed for...
"Hedwig!" cried Harry gladly as his beloved snowy owl came in for a landing on his outstretched forearm. "How are you, girl? Are you all right?" He could not stop himself from stroking the soft feathers of her head almost urgently as the words spilled out of his mouth. Hedwig hoo'd enthusiastically in response, pushing her head into his fingers as she did when she was particularly glad to see him. Seeing that there was no letter with her, he looked up to Amelia, wondering if she perhaps had information about his owl's absence.
Amelia looked up from the stiff parchment she had received and caught his eye. "Your suspicions were right, Harry," she said with a faint smile that reminded him of Professor McGonnagal. "Hedwig had been intercepted and was being held, presumably to keep you incommunicado while a standard owl repulsion ward kept most other birds away. Only the owls from the Improper Use of Magic Office bore the proper coded counter-charm. It would appear that we will be investigating that office most thoroughly this week. Amongst others," she finished darkly.
After breakfast, Harry was sent upstairs to don his swimmers. He had been given little choice in the style of swimwear that were bought for him. He had wanted some of the comfortable-looking trunks, like oversized boxers, but that idea had been pooh-poohed by the ladies and he had been informed that he would be wearing swimwear that looked to his eyes like a somewhat undersized, if heavily constructed, pair of briefs that clung to him like a second skin. His only choice had been between a brilliant crimson red and an equally bright royal blue. He had chosen red, and so it was that he pulled the stretchy things from his underwear drawer with some trepidation. Now, in the privacy of his bedroom, he was calm enough to see that they were lined, so he stripped down to nothing and slipped them on. They seemed more comfortable than they had in the shop, and now that he was no longer quite as panicked he saw that they did not outline his every feature as he had feared they would. In fact, they felt quite sleek, and hid the details of his anatomy quite well, really.
He sent off Hedwig with the letters for Hermione and Luna and slipped on a casual summer robe and a pair of sandals before heading back down the stairs. Susan was waiting for him with two large, fluffy towels.
At the dock by the pond, Susan walked out to the end and put their towels down on the worn, silver-grey weathered wood and slipped off her robe. She was wearing a two-piece swimming suit in a pale, baby blue fabric. The top was two triangles of fabric joined by a string-thin strap of the same colour, held up by more strings that appeared to be tied behind her neck. Harry could see the swell of her bare breasts peeking out from either side of the not over-wide scraps of cloth. The lower half appeared to neatly cover her pubes, clinging to her like he suddenly wished he could, with more string circling her hips. Large bows on each side of her hips taunted him and made him wonder, wildly, what would happen if he reached forward and tugget on one of those fascinating bows.
A reaction in his groin made Harry realise that he shouldn't be thinking about Susan like that, and he tore his eyes away from her groin to her face, only to see her looking him in the eyes, smiling.
Oh, God, she caught me staring at her. What must she think of me? Harry thought, even as Susan smiled impishly at him then turned around. The back of the bikini was hardly wider than the front, and it stretched delightfully over her mostly-exposed buttocks as she bent over to undo her sandals. Harry felt himself stiffening for real, and he scrambled to make his naescent erection go away. Snape in a bikini, Snape in a bikini, Dumbledore in neck-to-knees.
Susan straightened again and turned once more to see Harry staring at her, absolutely dumbfounded. The sight amused her greatly, but she knew better than to openly laugh at him. She remembered well the advice of her mother, when speaking with her about the delightful differences between men and women, had warned her that men, although often very strong, had egos as brittle as spun glass, and she could deeply hurt someone without even noticing.
Still, she couldn't let Harry's behaviour go without comment. She struck a pose she had seen in one of Mother's books, one hand on her hip and the other tucked behind her head, her hips cocked. "So, Harry, do you like what you see?" Come on, Harry, tell me you like me.
Harry blushed bright red, but he somehow kept himself together. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare. But you're very nice." He swallowed, but didn't dare look away, somehow sensing that to do so would be to capitulate. Instead he concentrated on Susan's face.
"Harry, if I didn't want you to look, I would have worn a different suit."
"You want me to look?" he asked, flabbergasted.
"Well, yes," she said, not quite as positively as she wanted to. She dropped the pose. "Sort of. I really don't mind if you look. But what I really want, Harry, is to get to know you better. You seem like a really nice guy from what I saw of you in the D.A., but there's almost no chance to get to know people from other houses at school. I'd like to be friends with you, at least."
Harry smiled. "I'd like that," he said.
"So," she said, "I've shown you mine. You show me yours!"
He gaped at her, then realised what she wanted. He took off his sandals then shucked off the light, knee-length robe. He saw her eyes take in his hollow chest, his spindly arms and legs. Thinking of Snape and Dumbledore had done the trick, and he felt confident that he was not displaying himself to her. However, he was a little ashamed of his body. He was hardly a thick-limbed, muscular, confident example of manhood like Wayne Simpson of Susan's own house Hufflepuff. He looked away.
"I'm sorry, I'm not exactly nice to look at like you are," he said.
Susan rejoiced at his words even as she acknowledged their truth. "That's okay, Harry, you've been starved. The potions Mum's giving you will help sort that out.
"Actually, those potions mean you need to exercise pretty hard to make sure they build the right kind of tissue and so the muscles that do grow get nicely toned instead of being flabby. If you work hard and stay on the potions, you should be looking pretty nice in a couple of weeks."
"Work? At what? Do you need help around the farm?"
Susan shook her head. "No, no. We'll go swimming twice a day – once before breakfast, at seven; once late in the afternoon, an hour or so each time. It'd be pretty boring if you did it all by yourself, but I'll swim with you and help make it fun. In no time you'll be back to normal."
"Normal isn't exactly anything to write home about, either," muttered Harry, but he forced himself to catch her eye and smile. "That sounds great, Susan," he said. "Thanks ever so much for helping me out like this. I really like to think we can become friends."
Susan couldn't help herself; she stepped forward and gathered up Harry in a hug. "Thanks, Harry. I'd like that. I'm happy to help."
It was very different to being hugged by Hermione. Susan's hug was firm but gentle, for all that he could sense the power of her arms. Her breasts pressed against his bare chest, and he could feel another erection coming on. He canted his hips so that it wouldn't press against her.
"Well, then," said Susan as she ended the hug, "let's get you into the water. You can't swim for an hour if you don't know how. Come on."
oOoOoOo
By half past ten, Harry was exhausted, his arms and legs feeling like overcooked spaghetti, and he lay limply next to Susan on the dock staring up at the gathering thunderheads. They were a deep purple gray, and for all that the sun was still shining on the two of them, he could sense that soon they would be in the clouds' shadow. Water dripped slowly off him as he lay under the sun's gentle benison.
Right at the moment, he didn't think he'd ever use his arms or legs again. Susan had soon taught him to float, and then to 'tread water', as she had called it, and finally she had introduced him to a fast over-arm stroke she called 'freestyle'. Then she had insisted he propel himself only by kicking – four times across the pond.
"Congratulations, Harry, you now know how to swim," said Susan, breaking the silence that had built between them abruptly. She hardly seemed tired. Harry mused that it seemed quite unfair, but then replied to himself that if he got fit again he would be able to last longer too.
"Oh, good," he said, his tiredness rendering him incapable of anything more eloquent.
"Of course, you've only learned one stroke. I'll show you side stroke and backstroke tomorrow, and then butterfly. If you're very good, I'll show you the breast-stroke."
"Fantastic, I can't wait," he said automatically. His tired-but-not-tired brain insisted on continuing to process what she had said. "Err... Susan?"
"Yes?" she asked sweetly.
"Breast-stroke... it's..." Suddenly Harry's intelligence intervened and stopped him from asking what he had been about to. Instead, he said, "How do you do that?"
She giggled. "I'll show you tomorrow."
Her giggle was contagious, and Harry felt himself smiling. "I look forward to it."
OooOoOo
From the Journal of Harry James Potter:
8 July 1996 – Monday
Today was my second day of learning to swim. I wonder if I'll ever be good at it, though Susan says I'm learning quickly, and as I get used to the exercise and the potions do their work, it will become much easier for me. I'm sure she's right, but for now it feels like I'll never be strong again.
Susan's being very friendly to me. She's very easy to get along with, and I'm finding that I'm enjoying her company very much. We go swimming together in the morning and late afternoon. We go for walks after lunch, exploring different parts of the farm, and in the late mornings and afternoons we study. Studying is forbidden in the evenings; we sit with her mother and Amelia and play games, or talk. Brigitte told me tonight that it's not unusual for them all to sit reading, or discussing the day's news.
I wonder how long Hedwig will be delivering Luna's letter? I got a reply from Hermione today. She seems to be fully recovered from her injuries now, and she was talking about spending a few weeks in Provence with her parents in the first part of August. She invited me to come, though Amelia says that she'd prefer it if I stayed close to home so I can be properly guarded against Death Eater attacks. She then went on to offer to set up a trip to Diagon Alley on Wednesday so I can look around Flourish and Blotts and some other places and see what I can find in the way of advanced texts.
OooOoOo
From the Diary of Susan Bones:
Wednesday, 10th July
Dear Diary,
Harry's swimming continues to get better, and as for Harry himself – oh, boy! It's not yet been a week, and already he's filling out nicely. I didn't know restorative potions would work so quickly. He's still a bit skinny, but he's already able to swim slowly for a full half hour and no longer gets tired on our little walks.
But the main news – we went shopping today! Aunty Amelia offered to set up an expedition for Harry, and he accepted, and we floo'd to the Leaky Cauldron at about eleven. Harry wanted to stock up on parchment, quills, and ink, and after an early-ish lunch we spent a few hours looking through all the second hand bookstores and gadget shops there were. Harry bought all kinds of old books, and I helped him of course, looking for stuff that might be good to teach the D.A. next year. I have no idea what one of the things he bought was, though. It was some kind of runed bowl, fairly deep, that Harry called a pensieve. I must look it up and see what it's for – for some reason Harry didn't answer when I asked about it, instead going quiet in that way he does.
Harry himself seems to be warming up to me, but he seems distracted at times. He seems to be all wrapped up in Luna Lovegood, who's a Ravenclaw in the year behind us. She seems nice enough from what I remember from the DA, if somewhat spacey. Harry told me he'd sent Hedwig off with a letter for her and was hoping to see his owl back soon. She must be a long way away if a good owl like Hedwig takes four days to make a delivery!
In the mean time, I'll continue Operation Get Harry Comfortable With Me. Who knows – it might even bear fruit.
Here's hoping!
OooOoOo
It was Thursday evening, and Harry was positive that his life, at long last, was going very well indeed. Luna had replied with a long letter which Hedwig had brought to him early that morning before breakfast. He was finally starting to feel fit again, and Brigitte had pronounced that the restorative potions were "off to a good start". He had enjoyed a wonderful day with Susan, whom he had begun to tell some of the stories of his life now that he had convinced himself that she wasn't another Lavender or Parvati, but could instead be trusted not to keep confidences. He had made a lot of progress today in his study, finding that one of the old books he had bought – Locks and Keys – was a positive treasure trove of useful information, lucidly written and easily understood.
And finally, Amelia had asked him and the others to sit with her in the Sitting Room, saying that she had good news.
The sitting room was one of the house's formal rooms. The furniture in the room was elegant and antique, with rich materials upholstering brightly-polished wood, some items decorated with gilt and inlays of various kinds. Glass-fronted cabinets displayed the treasures of the family – three Orders of Merlin, various medals, what looked like a pure silver coffee service of great beauty and truly impressive heft and craftsmanship, numerous decorative plates and bowls, and a number of other, less understandable items.
It was in this impressive room that Amelia bid the others sit and make themselves comfortable while she busied herself at the bar. Harry seated himself in a beautifully spare but comfortable-looking two-seater couch, and was pleased when Susan sat beside him. Brigitte sat in a dark-wood armchair upholstered in a shiny, yellow-gold fabric that had flowers embroidered upon it at intervals in red and silver.
Amelia returned with four small stemmed glasses filled with a dark honey-coloured liquid. She served one to each person, keeping the last for herself, and sat in a spindly, armless balloon-backed chair facing the other three. She raised her glass and took a sip, holding the thick liquid in her mouth for a moment before swallowing. Relaxing back into the chair's comfortable embrace, she released a sigh of pleasure.
Uncertain what to do, Harry waited until Susan caught his eye and raised her glass to him. Following a ritual he remembered the Dursleys doing, he clinked his glass against hers then took a small sip of his drink.
The liquid was thick, and aromatic of wood, spices, and a peculiarly complex honey. In his mouth, the flavour exploded upon his toungue, making him think of liquid dried apricots and honey and cloves. He swallowed, and the drink traced a warm, glowing trail down his throat into his stomach, where it seemed to set itself alight in a gentle fire, filling him with a peculiarly warm satisfaction and pleasure. He found himself smiling at Susan, whose eyes sparkled as she smiled back at him.
A silence built, and Harry knew for certain that he would not be the one to break it. Following the others, he took another tiny sip, helplessly smiling at the flavour and warmth of the drink. He seemed to feel an additional warmth from Susan, but he told himself he must be imagining things.
Amelia suddenly spoke, softly into the padded silence of the room. "Today was a good day," she said with a small, restrained smile.
"What happened?" asked Brigitte after a pause.
"Firstly, the investigation into the Improper Use of Magic Office was completed today. Two people will be charged with minor offences and were issued warnings, and I have ordered the preparation of a discussion document regarding unfair discrimination against the muggle-born in the application of the Decree for Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery.
"Secondly, I ordered the circumstances of the trial that Harry had to face in '93 reviewed. Dolores Umbridge was dismissed with cause and will face the Wizengamot charged with the misuse of dementors on Monday. Cornelius Fudge was also charged on summons with conspiracy to cause greivous harm, and will face the Wizengamot on Tuesday.
"Thirdly, the Aurors investigating the Dursleys reported that they appeared to be under the influence of a Svengalens potion. They have been returned to their home with memories of having been on a short holiday."
"What's a Svengalens potion, Auntie?" put in Susan.
"It allows the drinker to be mesmerised by the person who administers the potion, honey," said Brigitte. "It's not as absolute as the Imperio curse, so it's not actually banned, but it's considered very dark."
"That's right," said Amelia. "It's actually a class one controlled potion, like Veritaserum. Use not authorised in writing by..." She trailed off and blushed a little. "Well, the details don't matter. Anyway, we don't know at the moment who caused your relatives to act in the way they did this summer, Harry, but the Aurors carrying out that investigation will now be attempting to determine who fed them the potion and how it was done."
"Thank you," said Harry, feeling it was necessary.
Amelia nodded and continued. "Finally," she said, "it's been determined that Headmaster Dumbledore caused the provisions of your parents' will to be bypassed when he placed you with the Dursleys." The happiness of a successful day flowed away from her face. "Unfortunately, that only begins his offences against you, Harry, but the question is whether we can make any charges stick. For example, he cannot actually be charged with a criminal offence from placing you with the Dursleys. Enforcement of wills is a civil matter, and when the Department of Magical Catastrophes acknowledged his letter advising them of your placement with the Dursleys, the Ministry essentially approved the placement. Unfortunately the person who did so is now retired and, in any event, is only guilty of failing to verify Albus' assertions regarding the Potters' will. That is, if he actually made any. That man has a way of phrasing things..." She trailed off, frowning in agitation.
Harry shrank into his seat as a horrid thought occurred to him. "Does that mean I might have to return to the Dursleys?" he asked shakily.
"No!" cried Brigitte as she moved quickly out of her chair to kneel in front of Harry, taking him into a soft hug. "No, you won't have to go back to those horrid people. I'll make sure of it!"
The warmth of Brigitte's embrace aborted Harry's gathering funk and made him look up, once again hopeful. "Really?" Brigitte's firm nod as she looked him in the eyes brought a smile to his face. "Thank you," he said gratefully.
"Well, that is all good news," said Susan brightly. She pulled Harry into a hug of her own, her arm about his shoulders. After a moment she let him go and turned to face him, saying, "I guess you'll be staying with us for a while. I'm glad." She looked him in the eye and smiled softly, her smile broadening a little as she saw him blush a little and smile shyly. She handed Harry his glass and the two drank again, a wordless mini-toast.
"Excuse me for asking," said Harry after a moment, "but what other investigations are you carrying out into Ms. Umbridge's actions last year?"
Amelia looked at Harry steadily for a moment before saying, "A number of the Educational Decrees implemented last year are the source of several investigations as they directly contradict a number of laws, so actions carried out under those Decrees were illegal. For example, it is illegal to read or dispose of somebody's mail without their express consent." Seeing Harry's gathering frown, she added, "All the Educational Decrees from last year have already been rescinded, of course."
Harry frowned mightily, deciding whether to speak out. He decided he should do so; he felt as though he owed it to Minister Bones in a funny way. "Er... I was wondering whether some of the things Ms. Umbridge did last year were illegal. Do you mind if I ask you about them?"
Amelia and Brigitte shared a quick look before Amelia nodded. "Of course, Harry, go ahead."
"Well, on one occasion she put an entire vial of Veritaserum into a cup of tea and tried to force me to drink it. You said earlier that it requires Ministry permission to..." He broke off at Amelia's furious expression.
"Yes, she will most certainly have to be investigated for that. Would you be willing to be interviewed regarding her actions last year? I assume that the other points you wished to raise were as serious?"
"I'm happy to be interviewed. As for the rest, she threatened to cast the cruciatus on me when Snape said he had no more Veritaserum, but Hermione talked her out of it. Um, the main other thing... have you heard of a kind of quill that writes in your own blood and cuts what you're writing into the back of your hand as you write with it?"
"Is it small and black, with a very sharp point?"
"Yes."
"That's a Blood Signing Quill. They're used for signing magical contracts and the like." The look of curiousity on her face faded, to be replaced with a growing look of dawning horror. "You're underage, you can't have ever had to use...?"
Harry nodded grimly. "She made me write lines with it. 'I will not tell lies.' For hours on end." He tilted his right hand to show its back, where the words I will not tell lies were still visible, the white scar now quite visible against the light tan of the rest of the hand. The three Bones women leaned forward to look. Amelia immediately leaned back, her face stern, while Brigitte took Harry's hand in hers to look more closely and Susan pulled Harry into another hug.
"I see," said Amelia, her face closed.
"I think we could get that all fixed up at St. Mungo's, dear," said Brigitte after a moment. Susan said nothing, but continued to hold Harry to her, moving her arms from his shoulders to his waist.
After a long moment, Amelia cleared her throat. "Well, I was hoping to finish on a positive note, but I can see events have conspired against me. Nevertheless..." She stood. She spoke in ringing tones. "Harry Potter, for reason of continuing clear and present danger against your person represented by the forces of Voldemort and the Death Eaters, you are hereby granted a provisional use of magic licence. From this day forth, the Decree of Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery will no longer apply to you. You may use magic restricted only by those regulations that control the actions of adult wizards." She pulled from the sleeve of her robes a scroll which she handed over to Harry. Harry, trapped within Susan's embrace, reached up to take the scroll.
"I... thank you, Minister. I promise I'll not abuse your trust."
Amelia smiled, her eyes twinkling. "I'm sure you won't, Harry. I'm sure you won't."