Chapter 3: The Burrow

I went to a Muggle music festival with Lily and Rose last night. We sang and danced and laughed all night long. It's been quite some time since I laughed and smiled like that and – for the first time since before Christmas – I didn't have any nightmares when I slept. I've decided that I'm going to tell Siri what happened tomorrow. Keeping it to myself isn't doing me any good. I'm ready.

Leo raised his hand, knocking on the door before stepping back, rocking on his heels. The door swung open a minute later, revealing a large and neckless man with an enormous black mustache. The man's face turned red at Leo's appearance, and he tried to slam the door in his face when it was suddenly blocked by Leo's hand, who refused to let it budge.

"I'm here for Harry," Leo said simply.

"We're busy, boy. You should've come earlier -"

"I had a house to decorate, you fat oaf. Now, let me see Harry," Leo demanded.

It was the thirty-first of July, the day of Leo and Harry's twelfth birthday. Leo had spent all day running about – decorating the kitchen, buying presents, and getting the ingredients Kreacher would need to make them a delicious feast. It had taken him all day to get everything done, so Leo wasn't able to retrieve his cousin until ten past eight that night.

"I don't have to let you -"

"I have a wand – don't make me use it."

Vernon's face paled considerably at this and he looked over his shoulder to ensure that no one else was around. He then opened the door wider, telling Leo to be silent and that Harry was upstairs. He told Leo that he couldn't leave until his house-guests had gone – he had a big promotion on the line. Normally, Leo would have taken this opportunity to deliberately sabotage Vernon, but he didn't want Harry to have to deal with the aftermath considering he'd have to spend the first half of every summer with them.

Leo walked past Vernon into the house, tiptoeing up the stairs and making it to Harry's room. He opened the door and was surprised to find that he wasn't alone. There was a house-elf with him. He had large, bat-like ears and bulging green eyes the size of tennis balls. Leo would even go so far as to say that he was adorable.

"...And you are?" Leo finally said, closing the door behind him.

"Dobby, sir, Dobby the house-elf," the house-elf bowed.

"Pleasure to meet you, Dobby," Leo gave a flourishing bow in return. "I'm Leo, Leo the human. That's Harry, Harry the beardless dwarf."

Harry chucked a pillow at him.

"So, what brings you to this over-sized shed the Dursleys call a home, Dobby? Did your family send you?" Leo inquired, walking over and flopping onto Harry's bed.

"No, sir. Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn him, even if he does have to shut his ears in the oven door later...Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts."

There was a silence broken only by the chink of knives and forks from downstairs and the distant rumble of Vernon's voice. Leo simply stared at Dobby as though he had lost his marbles.

"W-what?" Harry stammered. "But I've got to go back — term starts on September first. It's all that's keeping me going. You don't know what it's like here. I don't belong here. I belong in your world — at Hogwarts."

"No, no, no," squeaked Dobby, shaking his head so hard his ears flapped. "Harry Potter must stay where he is safe. He is too great, too good, to lose. If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger."

"Oh, so just a regular school year then?" Leo remarked.

"Leo is not understanding. There is a plot. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," whispered Dobby, suddenly trembling all over. "Dobby has known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!"

"... This still sounds an awful lot like your average Hogwarts school year."

"What terrible things?" said Harry, getting to the meat of the issue. "Who's plotting them?"

Dobby made a funny choking noise and then banged his head frantically against the wall. Leo wasn't sure whether he should laugh or not.

"Alright!" cried Harry, grabbing the elf's arm to stop him. "You can't tell me. I understand. But why are you warning us? Hang on — this hasn't got anything to do with Vol — sorry — with You-Know-Who, has it? You could just shake or nod," he added hastily as Dobby's head tilted worryingly close to the wall again.

"I sincerely hope not, otherwise I might just bunk off school altogether," Leo stated, lifting his head up worriedly and awaiting Dobby's response.

Slowly, Dobby shook his head.

"Not — not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, sir —"

Leo relaxed at this.

But Dobby's eyes were wide and he seemed to be trying to give Harry and Leo a hint. The two, however, were completely lost.

"He hasn't got a brother, has he?"

"Or an equally hideous sister?"

Dobby shook his head, his eyes wider than ever.

"Well then, I can't think who else would have a chance of making horrible things happen at Hogwarts," said Harry. "I mean, there's Dumbledore, for one thing —"

"Dumbledore didn't exactly do much to stop anything happening last year, Harry. We did, not him," Leo interrupted him angrily. "I wouldn't bet all my cards – or anything, really – on him being much use if the school really is in danger."

Dobby seemed inclined to agree with him.

"There are powers Dumbledore doesn't...powers no decent wizard..."

And before either of the cousins could stop him, Dobby bounded off the bed, seized Harry's desk lamp, and started beating himself around the head with earsplitting yelps.

A sudden silence fell downstairs. Two seconds later Harry and Leo heard Vernon coming into the hall, calling, "Dudley must have left his television on again, the little tyke!"

"Quick! In the closet!" hissed Harry, stuffing Dobby in, shutting the door, and flinging himself onto his chair just as the door handle turned.

"What — the —devil — are — you — doing?" said Vernon through gritted teeth, his face horribly close to Harry's, much to Leo's annoyance. "You've just ruined the punch line of my Japanese golfer joke... One more sound and you'll wish you'd never been born, boy!"

He stomped flat-footed from the room.

"Wanker," Leo huffed. "Didn't even give me a chance to make a witty remark or call him racist."

Harry rolled his eyes as he let Dobby out of the closet.

"See what it's like here?" he said. "See why I've got to go back to Hogwarts? It's the only place I've got — well, I think I've got friends."

"Friends who don't even write to Harry Potter?" said Dobby slyly.

"I expect they've just been — wait a minute," said Harry, frowning. "How do you know my friends haven't been writing to me?"

"Ooo, busted," Leo gave a low whistle.

Dobby shuffled his feet.

"Harry Potter mustn't be angry with Dobby. Dobby did it for the best —"

"Have you been stopping my letters?"

"Dobby has them here, sir," said the elf. Stepping nimbly out of Harry's reach, he pulled a thick wad of envelopes from the inside of the pillowcase he was wearing.

Dobby blinked anxiously up at Harry.

"Harry Potter mustn't be angry...Dobby hoped...if Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten him...Harry Potter might not want to go back to school, sir..."

"...You do realize that that would only motivate him to go more, right?" Leo questioned, beginning to understand that the elf wasn't quite in his right mind. "At the very least to figure out what the – Jesus!"

Harry had lunged for the letters, but Dobby jumped out of reach.

"Harry Potter will have them, sir, if he gives Dobby his word that he will not return to Hogwarts. Ah, sir, this is a danger you must not face! Say you won't go back, sir!"

"No," said Harry angrily. "Give me my friends' letters!"

"Then Harry Potter leaves Dobby no choice," said the elf sadly.

Before Harry or Leo could move, Dobby had darted to the bedroom door, pulled it open, and sprinted down the stairs. The two exchanged a look before quietly running after him and down the stairs, jumping the last six steps, and landing catlike on the hall carpet, looking around for Dobby. From the dining room, he heard Vernon saying, "...tell Petunia that very funny story about those American plumbers, Mr. Mason. She's been dying to hear..."

And now they're insulting Americans. The Dursleys are just truly awful people. Leo shook his head before he and Harry ran up the hall into the kitchen.

There they saw a pudding, a mountain of cream and sugared violets, floating up near the ceiling. On top of a cupboard in the corner crouched Dobby.

"No," croaked Harry.

"Please...they'll kill me..."

"Harry Potter must say he's not going back to school —"

"Dobby...please..."

"Say it, sir —"

"I can't —"

Dobby gave him a tragic look.

"Then Dobby must do it, sir, for Harry Potter's own good."

The pudding fell to the floor with a heart-stopping crash. Cream splattered the windows and walls as the dish shattered. With a crack like a whip, Dobby vanished.

There were screams from the dining room and Vernon burst into the kitchen to find Harry and Leo covered from head to foot in pudding. Leo took that moment to swipe a finger over Harry's cheek, grabbing a large glob of pudding and stuffing it in his mouth. He smacked his lips a few times.

"That's actually not too bad," he commented before turning to Vernon. "Very fruity – little heavy on the margarine, though."

At first, it looked as though Vernon would manage to gloss the whole thing over. ("Just our nephews — very disturbed — meeting strangers upsets them, so we kept them upstairs...") He shooed the shocked Masons back into the dining room and handed Harry a mop and Leo a broom. He was half-tempted to ride it around the dining room, just to freak everyone out.

Vernon might still have been able to make his deal — if it hadn't been for the owl.

Petunia was just passing around a box of after-dinner mints when a huge barn owl swooped through the dining room window, dropped a letter on Mrs. Mason's head, and swooped out again. Mrs. Mason screamed like a banshee and ran from the house shouting about lunatics. Mr. Mason stayed just long enough to tell the Dursleys that his wife was mortally afraid of birds of all shapes and sizes, and to ask whether this was their idea of a joke. Leo hadn't laughed that hard in months.

Harry stood in the kitchen, clutching the mop for support, as Vernon advanced on him, a demonic glint in his tiny eyes. Leo prepared himself to intervene in case things got physical.

"Read it!" he hissed evilly, brandishing the letter the owl had delivered. "Go on — read it!"

Harry took it, and Leo looked over his shoulder to read:

Dear Mr. Potter,

We have received intelligence that a Hover Charm was used at your place of residence this evening at twelve minutes past nine.

As you know, underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school, and further spellwork on your part may lead to expulsion from said school. (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C).

We would also ask you to remember that any magical activity that risks notice by members of the non-magical community (Muggles) is a serious offense under section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy.

Enjoy your holidays!

Yours sincerely,

Mafalda Hopkirk

IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE

Ministry of Magic

Leo exchanged a look with Harry.

"Well, I think now's as good a time as any to skedaddle. Why don't you go grab your things and we can -"

"Not so fast, boy!" Vernon roared. "You two aren't going anywhere! Not to that bloody circus you call a school and certainly not anywhere among those freaks! You're going to be locked up like you deserve -"

Leo's wand was suddenly in his face.

"Try it, see what happens," Leo dared him.

"Your threats won't work on me, boy. If you use magic, they'll expel you both!" Vernon laughed gleefully.

Leo took a moment to consider this.

"Fair point," he conceded before shouting, "Kreacher!"

There was a loud crack, and the house-elf appeared, with a snout for a nose, giant bat's ears, and enormous bloodshot eyes, with his only covering being grimy rags, he was quite a sight. Petunia let out a hair-raising shriek; nothing this filthy had entered her house in living memory. Dudley tried running from the room in fright, but only managed to run into the wall and fall backward on his fat arse.

Vernon bellowed, "What the hell is that?"

"Kreacher, be a dear and fetch Harry's things and take them home, would you?" Leo smiled gleefully at the Dursleys' horrified expressions. "Just make sure you don't set off the Trace while you do so, alright?"

"Yes, Master Leo," Kreacher bowed before turning back to Harry. "The Potter brat must show Kreacher where to go."

"Oh, er, alright," Harry replied awkwardly before leading the house-elf out of the kitchen.

Leo retracted his wand and stepped back a pace, folding his hands behind his back and humming to himself. So far, the night was not going as he had planned – which he was actually alright with. It had been endlessly entertaining at the Dursleys to the point where Leo almost missed living here. Almost.

Harry returned minutes later with Kreacher in tow, who informed him that Harry's things had been sent to the house. Leo nodded before ordering him to take himself and Harry home. Kreacher grabbed both their arms and Apparated them into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, where Harry's eyes widened at all the food and the mountain of presents awaiting him.

"Happy Birthday, Harry," Leo grinned before being abruptly engulfed in a hug.

"Thanks, Leo. I promise I'll get you something when we get back to Diagon Alley -"

"Don't sweat it, Harry. You're all the present I need."

Three days later found Harry and Leo with their trunks and – in Harry's case, at least – owl. They were preparing for Kreacher to Apparate them to the Burrow, where they would spend the rest of their summer surrounded by the redheads. Leo and Harry both took firm holds of their belongings as Kreacher grabbed their arms and Apparated them in front of a tumbledown garage in a small yard, and Harry and Leo got their first glimpse at the Weasley home.

It looked as though it had once been a large stone pigpen, but extra rooms had been added here and there until it was several stories high and so crooked it looked as though it were held up by magic (which Leo reminded himself, it probably was). Four or five chimneys were perched on top of the red roof. A lopsided sign stuck in the ground near the entrance read, THE BURROW. Around the front door lay a jumble of rubber boots and a very rusty cauldron. Several fat brown chickens were pecking their way around the yard.

"Wicked," they both breathed as Kreacher vanished.

Mrs. Weasley - a short, plump, kind-faced woman - was marching across the yard towards them, scattering chickens. She stopped in front of them, a warm smile on her face.

"I'm very pleased to see you, both," she said. "Come in and have some breakfast."

The kitchen was small and rather cramped. There was a scrubbed wooden table and chairs in the middle, which the boys sat down at, looking around.

The clock on the wall opposite them had only one hand and no numbers at all. Written around the edge were things like Time to make tea, Time to feed the chickens, and You're late. Books were stacked three deep on the mantelpiece, books with titles like Charm Your Own Cheese, Enchantment in Baking, and One Minute Feasts — It's Magic! An old radio next to the sink just announced that coming up was "Witching Hour, with the popular singing sorceress, Celestina Warbeck."

Mrs. Weasley was tipping healthy servings of sausage and fried eggs on their plates just as the Weasleys started descending the stairs with various yawns. Ron's face immediately brightened upon spotting Harry, and Fred and George exchanged looks of mischief-fueled glee when they noticed Leo was with him. Immediately, they pounced on him. Literally.

Leo shrieked and scrambled out from beneath them, running out the door to the kitchen with the twins in hot pursuit. They chased him around the house a few times before Leo managed to lose them and make his way back to the kitchen. He strolled back to his seat and began to eat his eggs as though nothing had happened. Fred and George appeared a few minutes later and did the same, the three of them receiving confused looks from everyone in the kitchen.

"What was that all about?" Ron finally asked.

"What was all what about?" Leo replied, raising an eyebrow as he feigned curiosity.

"You - and Fred and George – chasing each other round -"

"Leo, what's he on about?" Fred questioned, looking at the blonde.

"I haven't the faintest idea. George?"

"I think our dear brother must have hit his head or something – must be delirious, the poor boy," George shook his head and sighed heavily.

Fred and Leo both imitated him, leaving Ron to throw his hands up in defeat as Harry struggled to smother his laughter. At that moment there was a diversion in the form of a small, redheaded figure in a long nightdress, who appeared in the kitchen, gave a small squeal, and ran out again.

"Ginny," said Ron in an undertone to Harry. "My sister. She's been talking about you all summer."

"Yeah, she'll be wanting your autograph, Harry," Fred said with a grin.

"No one ever wants my autograph," Leo fake pouted.

"That's because you're nutters, mate," George explained.

"Oh yeah."

Nothing more was said until all four plates were clean, which took a surprisingly short time. After which, Mrs. Weasley told her sons to de-gnome the garden. Whatever that meant. Harry volunteered himself and Leo to help. The blonde was currently plotting his revenge.

"That's very sweet of you, dear, but it's dull work," said Mrs. Weasley. "Now, let's see what Lockhart's got to say on the subject —"

And she pulled a heavy book from the stack on the mantelpiece. George groaned.

"Mum, we know how to de-gnome a garden —"

Leo looked at the cover of Mrs. Weasley's book. Written across it in fancy gold letters were the words Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests. There was a big photograph on the front of an adequate-looking (at least, in Leo's opinion) wizard with wavy blond hair and bright blue eyes. As always in the wizarding world, the photograph was moving; the wizard, who Leo supposed was Gilderoy Lockhart, kept winking cheekily up at them all. Mrs. Weasley beamed down at him. Leo suppressed the urge to gag.

"Oh, he is marvelous," she said. "He knows his household pests, all right, it's a wonderful book..."

"Mum fancies him," said Fred, in a very audible whisper.

"Don't be so ridiculous, Fred," said Mrs. Weasley, her cheeks rather pink. "Alright, if you think you know better than Lockhart, you can go and get on with it, and woe betide you if there's a single gnome in that garden when I come out to inspect it."

Yawning and grumbling, the Weasleys slouched outside with Harry and a very reluctant Leo behind them. The garden was large - full of weeds and uncut grass. There were gnarled trees all around the walls, plants spilling from every flower bed, and a big green pond full of frogs.

"Muggles have garden gnomes, too, you know," Harry told Ron they crossed the lawn.

"Yeah, I've seen those things they think are gnomes," said Ron, bent double with his head in a peony bush, "like fat little Santa Clauses with fishing rods..."

"Think you've got the two mixed up, mate. Santa doesn't fish," Leo informed him. "Much too cold for that."

There was a violent scuffling noise, the peony bush shuddered, and Ron straightened up. "This is a gnome," he said grimly.

"Gerroff me! Gerroff me!" squealed the gnome.

It was certainly nothing like Santa Claus. It was small and leathery looking, with a large, knobby, bald head exactly like a potato. Ron held it at arm's length as it kicked out at him with its horny little feet; he grasped it around the ankles and turned it upside down.

"This is what you have to do," he said. He raised the gnome above his head ("Gerroff me!") and started to swing it in great circles like a lasso. Seeing the shocked look on Harry's face, Ron added, "It doesn't hurt them —you've just got to make them really dizzy so they can't find their way back to the gnome holes."

He let go of the gnome's ankles: It flew twenty feet into the air and landed with a thud in the field over the hedge.

"Pitiful," said Fred. "I bet I can get mine beyond that stump."

"Bet I can hit someone with mine," Leo replied.

"I'm not taking that bet."

Leo ended up lobbing a gnome at Harry, who barely managed to duck it in time. George wasn't so lucky. The gnome hit him square in the back of the head, prompting him to grab his own gnome and chuck it at Leo, who ducked and grinned when it hit Ron. It was chaos from that point on. Gnomes were flung all over the yard, very few making it out into the field where they were supposed to go.

Mrs. Weasley came out after a few minutes of non-stop shouting and screaming and scolded them all before walking back into the house. They quickly went back to work, throwing the gnomes into the field in a somewhat more subdued manner.

"They'll be back," said Ron as they watched the gnomes disappear into the hedge on the other side of the field. "They love it here...Dad's too soft with them; he thinks they're funny..."

Just then, the front door slammed.

"He's back!" said George. "Dad's home!"

They hurried through the garden and back into the house.

Mr. Weasley was slumped in a kitchen chair with his glasses off and his eyes closed. He was a thin man, going bald, but the little hair he had was as red as any of his children's. He was wearing long green robes, which were dusty and travel-worn.

"What a night," he mumbled, groping for the teapot as they all sat down around him. "Nine raids. Nine! And old Mundungus Fletcher tried to put a hex on me when I had my back turned..."

Mr. Weasley took a long gulp of tea and sighed.

"Find anything, Dad?" said Fred eagerly.

"All I got were a few shrinking door keys and a biting kettle," yawned Mr. Weasley. "There was some pretty nasty stuff that wasn't my department, though. Mortlake was taken away for questioning about some extremely odd ferrets, but that's the Committee on Experimental Charms, thank goodness..."

"Why would anyone bother making door keys shrink?" said George.

"Just Muggle-baiting," sighed Mr. Weasley. "Sell them a key that keeps shrinking to nothing so they can never find it when they need it. Of course, it's very hard to convict anyone because no Muggle would admit their key keeps shrinking — they'll insist they just keep losing it. Bless them, they'll go to any lengths to ignore magic, even if it's staring them in the face...But the things our lot have taken to enchanting, you wouldn't believe —"

Leo suddenly found himself wondering if he could get some shrinking keys for the Dursleys. The kettle sounds nice as well. Have to find someone to do it for me though otherwise, the Dursleys will become suspicious and will never take it. He felt hands on his arms and jumped, immediately prepared for a fight when he noticed it was just the Weasley twins.

They led him up the stairs to a room on the fourth floor, which they opened to reveal two sets of beds and a mattress on the floor. Leo guessed that's where he would be sleeping. The rest of the room was chaotic – splashes of color everywhere, bits of paper with scribbles, and various joke items were strewn about. In the middle of it all stood Fred and George, their smiles full of mischief.

Leo,

I'm glad to hear you're doing better. I'm not surprised that Remus was able to help pull you out of your funk – he's always had a knack for knowing just what to say to people to make them feel better.

Take as much time as you need, you'll be ready when you're ready. It took your father almost eight months to finally talk about what was wrong, but that's him. Everyone's different. There's no set date you have to be ready by – so take your time.

Hope your holidays are going well!

Love,

Uncle Siri

P.S.: Nice try, kid, but that's not happening.