All characters and anything worth a knut belongs to JKR.

Attic Treasures

Petunia went white. "T-t-trunk?"

"Yes, a trunk," Ron quizzed. "Perhaps from Harry's mother? Things salvaged from their house?"

Petunia rubbed her temples, glaring. "In the attic," she grumbled finally.

Ginny whispered to Harry how they had worked on Legilimancy interviewing techniques with Lupin and Tonks over the weekend.

Mischievously, her arm slid around his waist and her fingers started exploring again, creeping up under his shirt. Harry's gaze shifted so he was watching her out of the corner of his eye. She smirked.

Ron and Hermione were conversing in low tones. Harry, taking advantage of their inattention, made an uncharacteristically bold move. He followed Ginny's example, gently sliding his fingers under the back of Ginny's shirt. He felt her catch her breath as the tips of his fingers traced the silky curve of her waist. She shivered when he grazed a ticklish spot.

"Oi!" Ron interrupted, "Where's the attic, mate?"

"Oh," Harry blinked. "Er, here, I'll show you." His hand reluctantly left Ginny's waist as he headed for the door. Ron and Hermione rose and followed, leaving Petunia, dazed, to clean up the unused tea things.

In the attic, Harry glanced around. "What are we looking for? I have a good idea of where stuff is, if I know what I'm looking for."

"She had a mental image of a trunk, similar to our school ones, but smaller," Hermione said.

Harry frowned, then pointed to a dark, dusty corner. "That one?" The trunk in question was buried under another heavy trunk and several boxes. Ron pulled out his wand to assist with the excavation, but Hermione stopped him. "No magic, remember? We don't know if Riddle is watching the area."

Harry raised a brow. "Riddle? On a last name basis now, are we?"

"Well," Hermione said. "Professor Dumbledore said, 'Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself,' so, I thought if we called him by his regular old name, it'd help us realize he's just a rotten toe-rag. Plus, Ron doesn't flinch at the sound of it."

"Good thinking," Harry nodded, inwardly marveling at her language. Ron must be rubbing off on her. He squared his shoulders and started shifting boxes.

"Urgh, finally!" Ginny gasped, heaving the last box off to the side. Harry knelt in front of the small trunk and inspected the latch. Puzzled, he looked up at Hermione. "There's no keyhole, and no way to open it. How do you open magical trunks without magic?"

"Let's take it down to your room where we have better lighting," Ginny suggested.

"What would you know about the lighting in Harry's bedroom?" Ron queried suspiciously, darting glances between his sister and his best friend. Ginny rolled her eyes and smacked Ron's shoulder.

"You're such a barmy berk. You know I've never been here before. And even if I had intimate knowledge of Harry's bedroom, it's none of your business!"

Grumbling and bickering with Ginny, Ron followed Harry, carrying the trunk Harry closed his door with a soft click and turned towards his bed, where Ron and Hermione were already inspecting the latch of the trunk. Ginny gazed around his room. "Harry, where's all your stuff?" she asked.

"Mostly in my trunk." He gestured to the trunk at the foot of the bed.

"No, your stuff, like posters on the walls, old toys… it looks like no one lives here." Ginny said.

"Well, this room used to be full of Dudley's old broken stuff," Harry said. "But then I started fixing some things, and my aunt and uncle got mad that I was using Dudley's old stuff and made me move everything to the cupboard under the stairs. I really don't have any 'stuff' like you're talking about."

Ginny turned and fled the room, her face red.

Harry followed her down the stairs to stop her before she met Dudley. "Ginny, where are you going? What's the matter? I've told you what it was like, growing up here. Did you think I was lying?" Harry asked, still confused by her reaction.

"Well, honestly, I really hoped so," Ginny said, staring at her toes. "I thought maybe it was just that your aunt and uncle showed a preference for their son, and you were a bit jealous. I can't understand how people could be mean to an innocent child. I guess I could understand playing favorites, but... Merlin, what a bunch of arses." She turned and spied a little door, several locks still present on its frame.

"Oh you have got to be kidding," she snarled, flipping them back to yank the door open. She glanced around the interior of the tiny space, taking in the abundance of dust and spiders, then turned and measured Harry with her eyes. "I can't believe it. Those bloody bastards…" She slammed the little door and stomped back up the stairs. "You were serious about getting food through this catflap too?" she demanded, pointing to the small opening in his door.

Harry avoided her eyes. "What else was I supposed to do? When I was in the cupboard, I didn't even know about magic. Even after moving up here, I didn't want to do underage magic and get expelled. The Ministry threatened to snap my wand! D'you think I'd risk my only shot at having a life someday by doing magic here?"

"Merlin, Harry, I'm not upset with you for not trying to save yourself, I'm sorry." She touched his forearm with her fingertips. "I just... Well, at home, we get away with doing a little magic, as long as Mum doesn't see… I didn't realize your every move was under such heavy surveillance. And I still can't believe people can be so utterly horrid. And the Ministry just let them, and no one ever checked on you or anything… Harry, you'd have been better off in an orphanage, but why couldn't Dumbledore have given you to our family? Mum would have loved to have you. We all would've."

Harry wiped his hand over his face. She hadn't said anything he hadn't thought of. "Just wasn't in my cards, I guess," he shrugged. "Let's go see if Hermione and Ron are having any luck with that trunk." He sidestepped to go around her back into his room.

She grasped his wrist to stop him. Her arms slipped around his neck as she reached for him on tiptoes. Neither of them heard his bedroom door open.

"Oi!" Ron exclaimed, "I think I've gone blind! It is not right for a bloke to catch his sister and his best mate snogging every time he turns around. Hermione, help me, the blindness has taken me…" He staggered backwards and collapsed on Harry's bed.

"Mate, if you've gone blind, it had nothing to do with us," Harry said. "That'd be due to your own, ah, handiwork." The girls dissolved into giggles, as Ron looked at them all suspiciously.

"I don't get it," he said.

"Obviously," Ginny snorted with laughter.

Ron gave them all a mutinous look, folding his arms across his chest. "Let's get back to this trunk here, yeah? Your uncle might come home from work early or something," he grumbled.

Still chuckling, the rest of them turned to the trunk.

Harry turned it to face the light from the window. "Hmm, I wonder… If it's a family trunk, would it only respond to a family member? So for a blood tie, you need… Hang on a sec, I'll be right back." Harry darted out and ducked into the loo, returning with the tip of his finger tipped with a drop of blood. He touched the lock, which snapped open. "Aha!"

"Harry!" Hermione scolded. "You probably could've just licked your finger and used saliva instead."

Harry frowned. "Now you tell me."

Inside, they found several family photo albums, stacks of old letters, a few official documents and a tiny, gold key. "This must go to a Gringotts vault," Harry said, comparing it to his own vault key.

"This must have been their version of a fireproof safe. Probably the only thing left after the house was destroyed," he said quietly, somewhat disappointed. "Maybe there is something at the vault. I have to go there anyway. I'm going to need to make some arrangements so I can move out of here and into Grimmauld Place." He put the vault keys together and tucked them in his pocket before shutting the lid on the small trunk.

"Oh Hermione, I was wondering about these," Harry held up the socks and jumper beside his trunk. "Why do I feel magic in them? Is it the knitting spell or something else?"

Ginny grinned mischievously. "I can tell you that." She grabbed the jumper and snuggled it to her cheek. "Mum knits them with love."