Ramblings and Dribbles
This has been relegated to my Ramblings as I focus on The House of Potter-Greengrass, but it needed to come out. There are so many times that I at least need to get a concept on paper to focus on what I should be focusing on. Enjoy...
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Harry Potter/ Delilah Rosier
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A/N: Premise is that Harry is tossed out of the Dursley's when he decides to be a wizard. Having no where to go, and the wards being broken, Dumbledore looks for a 'good' family for him to go to. He ends up at his cousins that he never knew about, the Tonks.
While at the Tonks, he has a chance encounter with Delilah Rosier, the yonger daughter of a cadet line of the Rosiers. Her parents are not Death Eaters, but are sympathetic to the cause and Blood Supremisists. Like all good purebloods, Delilah has been raised to 'follow the orders' of her Head-of-House. Those orders are to make friends and guide Harry Potter to meet their needs.
Delilah has her own ambitions that Harry could help her with... that is until she realizes that Harry is a friend and plans start to unravel.
Planned as a full seven years, maybe more, with a different Voldemort and very divergent plot after first years.
Harry will become more stable, confident and stronger as the years go on. This will be a Harry/OC, with Hermione and Neville being very close. (I just really like these three Gryffindor)
As of 08 OCT 21
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Chapter 1
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Little Winging, Surrey, England
July 15, 1991
Harry ate his lunch in silence. Over the last two years, things had changed in the Dursley's household. Harry was given three meals a day, most days. Even the cheese sandwich with an apple was far better than he used to get, when it was most often nothing.
He had clothes that fit him and looked decent for second hand clothes. His shoes were worn, but there was no tape holding them together and they were the right size. In his closet, under his cot, was a dozen t-shirts, two nicer polos, four pairs of jeans, new socks and another pair of shoes that were newer and nicer.
Yes, things had changed since he had convinced Uncle Vernon to let Harry take up a paper route at nine. All the money he earned went to his Uncle. Well, the money that was directly from the papers. Harry had been able to hide most of his tips, now having almost four-hundred quid in a safe place. When he was old enough, Harry was leaving this house.
Even though things were better, Harry still hated to live here. His Uncle and Cousin were bullies. Dudley still bothered or beat up anyone that would talk with him. Harry was happy to have his bike for his paper route. It was the only thing that Dudley had ever gotten in trouble over that one time he trashed Harry's bike. It meant he missed two days of getting all his route and bringing in the extra money.
The few times 'unexplained' or 'freaky' things had happened around Harry, he had been locked in his cupboard, only let out to do his paper route. The first time he had been denied food, but when Harry passed on the day doing his route, that had changed when the bobbies had taken him back. Harry had received a few punches in places others couldn't see the bruises and then started to be fed at least twice a day.
All this led to a very quiet Harry around his relatives. One that was plotting for the day he could leave them. Four-hundred quid would not get him far for long, but he had it in-case things went back to the way they had been.
"Did you collect your dues today," Uncle Vernon asked as he read the paper.
"Yes, Uncle Vernon. I already got the envelope ready to give to the delivery men and left the rest in the jar on the counter. Mrs. Yates and the Remers have not paid for the last three weeks," Harry told him.
Uncle Vernon let out a huff. "Then they get no papers until they pay."
Harry nodded and looked at the clock. He was curious why Uncle Vernon had not left for work yet. It was close to eight-thirty and he was always out of the house exactly at seven-fifty-five every morning to be at work by eight-thirty. Harry didn't dare ask though.
Aunt Petunia came over to the table. "Go take a shower, brush your hair and put on your best clothes on. There is someone coming to see you at ten."
Harry frowned. The only person that ever came to see him was some old man with a huge beard, but that always happened mid-August. There was a certain apprehension to this new visitor. It also explained why Uncle Vernon was still home. It might also explain why they had Dudley sleep over one of his friends last night.
Harry did as he was told and a few minutes before ten o'clock, he was standing in a corner behind the chair that Uncle Vernon usually sat in. Harry had on the only pair of slacks he owned, a nice polo shirt and his nicer pair of trainers. His Aunt made a dismissive comment about the boy looking sloppy, but it was the best Harry had. Now Aunt Petunia was crocheting as she watch one of her soaps, commenting on how so-and-so should marry what's-his-name.
Uncle Vernon was sitting in his chair, acting more smugly than Harry could remember the man in a long time and looking through some pamphlets. "A fine school. Will teach the boy some manners," Uncle Vernon kept repeating every few minutes.
Harry wasn't sure what was going on, but he was sure he would not like it.
At ten-oh-two, the front door rang. "Not as prompt as I would have expected," Uncle Vernon commented as he nodded his head. "Get the door, boy."
"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry replied.
When Harry opened the door, he was surprised to find a tall woman in a strange green dress with silver designs, a pointed hat with a wide brim and wire-rim spectacles. She had a rather austere look to her and Harry didn't miss how she looked down her nose at him. After a second, she frowned a little.
"Good morning. I am here to see Mr. Harry Potter and his guardians," she said to him.
Harry wasn't sure what was going on. "I am Harry Potter," Harry replied.
She woman pursed her lips. He saw her eyes roam over him and stop at his forehead for a few heart beats. She took a scroll out of her pocket, which Harry did a double take on - he had never seen a scroll like that outside of some old history texts or movies. "You are Harry Potter of Four Privet Drive, Bed under the stairs...?" she asked with a little surprise to her voice, "and nephew to Vernon and Petunia Dursley?"
Harry was unsure what was going on, but he had a sudden rush of panic. Harry had never told anyone that he lived under the stairs. "What is the wait, boy," Uncle Vernon asked stepping into the hallway.
Harry did a quick look to his Uncle who paled to see the woman in the doorway. "Vernon Dursley?" the woman asked.
"What are you doing here," his uncle asked in a strangled tone.
"I was sent by the Headmaster to greet a new student," the woman answered. "I assume you were told to expect me?"
His uncle's eyes here slits as he eyed the woman. "If you are taking the boy, take him and never return."
The woman frowned. "Hogwarts is a boarding school only during the school year. Will you invite me in so we can discuss this?" She held up the letter.
His uncle's right cheek twerked a bit. There seemed to be some large argument in his uncle's head as he regarded the strange woman in green robes and wide-brim pointed hat. Harry had the fleeting thought she looked like a witch out some children's books.
"Dumbledore sent me," she added.
This seemed to break whatever struggle was going on in his uncles head. Harry knew that name. It was the same name of the man that visited him every year.
"Come- in," his uncle said haltingly, indicating her to enter the sitting room.
With a nod, she moved into the house and entered the sitting room. Harry followed after a nod from a now red faced Vernon Dursley. Harry had a fear that once the woman left, the relative calm Harry had for the last two years was at an end.
His aunt was just staring at the woman as she sat in a chair opposite the one Uncle Vernon usual sat in. "I am going to just cut to the chase. I am Professor McGonagall, Mr. Evans. I have your letter for Hogwarts and shall be taking you into Diagon Alley today to get your supplies and to show you how to get to the platform in King's Cross Station. On September the first, you shall take him to King's Cross Station in London," she instructed all of them.
"I will not be taking him anywhere, and I will not pay for him to go to... this school... or to get any supplies," his uncle stated, sounding as though he had just won a hard fought battle.
"Mr. Potter's tuition is already taken care of and I have the funds for his supplies. Here, Mr. Potter," the woman said holding out a thick envelope to him.
Harry didn't move at first, the look his uncle and aunt were giving him was deadly. Trying to buy some time, Harry asked, "What is Hogwarts, Professor?"
The woman blinked. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Surely you have heard of it? Where do you think your parents learned to do magic?"
"That is enough. We do not talk of that in this house," Uncle Vernon stated.
"Don't talk about... are you serious this boy knows nothing about what he is or the Wizarding world?"
"The what? Wizards can't be real," Harry told her. If they were real, how could he have been left here?
"I assure you, Mr. Potter, witches and wizards are quiet real." Professor McGonagall eyed him. "Have you really not been told?"
"We swore when we took his in, we would never talk about my abnormal sister and her freak of a husband. If you take him, this boy will never be welcomed in this house again," his aunt replied.
Harry felt really confused.
"This is his home," Professor McGonagall said in a cold voice.
Harry still felt a little shocked, but the probability of never having to come back was enticing. "When do I leave," Harry prompted, more excitement in his voice than he meant.
"If he leaves, he will not be welcomed back. Now, take him. Otherwise we are waiting for another appointment with a representative of St. Brutus's," Uncle Vernon stated.
Professor McGonagall huffed. "We shall see. Here, take this," she demanded of Harry.
He took the envelope, seeing it was addressed to him under the stairs. After opening and reading it, he looked up to the silent room. "This is all a joke right?"
His aunt and uncle didn't say a word, just glaring at him.
"This is no joke, Mr. Potter. Now, if you are ready, we will head over to Diagon Alley, get your supplies and then I will return you hear in the early afternoon. I have another student to introduce to our world at two."
Harry gave an apprehensive look to his relatives, who didn't say a word.
After a few, Harry followed the Professor out of the house and had to trot to keep up with the woman's brusque pace as they walked towards the end of the lane and a copse of trees. "Take my arm," she said, obviously upset as she shoved her arm out.
"Professor, what is going on," Harry asked.
She pursed her lips and let out a sigh. "My apologies, Mr. Potter. I was here under the impression you already knew about magic and your history. I would normally go about explaining things in a better way, but I think it best we get along and I will explain as we get your supplies."
"Yes, ma'am. How are we getting there? The nearest train in two bus stops away."
The woman let her austere demeanor drop a little. "Magic, Mr. Potter."
-oOo-
Diagon Alley, London, England
It had been a stir when someone came into the Leaky Cauldron announcing that Harry Potter had been seen. By some fortuitous chance, Delilah Rosier and her father were in the Leaky Cauldron. There was a small smug look on his face.
Her father was a tall man, with broad shoulders, a cleanly shaven face with a strong jaw, dark blonde hair and dark brown eyes. She shared the man's blonde hair and dark eyes, but all her other features were her mothers. A sharp nose, a sharp-aristocratic face with a long neck. It was the features of a Black, while her hair and eyes were all Rosier.
Looking to her father, the man nodded. She felt a small thrill, and apprehension, go through her. For two years now, since she was nine, she had been coached by her parents to make friends with said boy and now might be the chance to actually meet him. She knew what her father and mother wanted. They wanted the Boy-who-lived. From their intelligence, it sounded as though Harry Potter had been raised by Muggles and might need some 'guidance' in their world.
It was her responsibility to take Harry Potter into their fold.
A small part of her rebelled against this, but she had been promised that she would be allowed to do as she wanted if she was able to get him.
"Perhaps we should do some shopping for your school supplies," her father ordered.
"Yes, father," Delilah responded.
He got up and she fell inline behind, like a proper girl should.
They heard some of the people talking as they walked down the street. Her father stopped just outside of Ollivanders. She saw a boy that looked a little short for his age, but healthy. A woman in green robes was inside the store as a tape measure ran all over the boy. She had eyes for her target, but she couldn't couldn't quiet suppress her giddiness at finally getting her wand. She had only turned eleven last week and the Ministry was quiet strict about the selling of wands to those under the age of maturity. Even many sellers in Knockturn Alley adhered to the rule. The Ministry's jinx on wands for those underage was quiet powerful. Under-age magical use, and the possible consequences on the Statute of Secrecy, was taken seriously.
Delilah dutifully followed her father into the store.
"Not a problem. Sometimes it is hard to place a wizard with a wand, but I assure you there is a wand here for you, Mr. Potter," an aged man with protruding eyes said as she moved between shelves of boxes. Perhaps twenty boxes and wands already lay on the bench.
"Good morning, Lady Ross," her father greeted.
"Good morning, Lord Rosier. Is this your youngest?"
Her father smiled, as though pleased Delilah would be noticed. It was an act. Her parents only cared that her brothers and her ported themselves the right way. "Ah, yes, this is Delilah. She will be starting Hogwarts this year. And who is this you are showing around? A muggleborn being introduced to our world?"
The woman didn't look impressed. Delilah waited for the introduction. "I should say not. This is Harry Potter. Mr. Potter, Lord Rosier and his daughter," the woman said, distracting the boy as he lay another wand down. It had shot out some rather weak red sparks.
Harry turned to them. The boy looked apprehensive.
Delilah studied Harry Potter. His black hair was all mussed and his clothes looked decent, but definitely Muggle. What caught her was when his eyes met her. They were green. An emerald green she had never seen in a person before. There was something in them that teased at a power that was unspoken. Looking at them, she wasn't sure what to think of him. He did not port himself like a scion of an important house should. There was no arrogance in his posture, not much posture to talk about either. After a moment, he held out his hand. "Harry Potter," the boy greeted. "Nice to meet you, sir."
Her father looked at the hand, as though he had never seen such a thing. After a moment, her father took his hand. "A pleasure."
She could tell her father was less than impressed. Delilah spoke up, "Delilah Rosier, Mr. Potter. It is a great pleasure to meet you." She curtsied rather lower than normal. The Rosier's were not a lower House, but the Potters were higher than them.
Harry looked confused, his hand half sticking out. "Uhm, Harry Potter," he said, slowly taking his hand back.
Her nodded at her. "Now, Lady Ross, I had been hoping..."
"Mr. Potter, if you would try this next one," the old man behind the counter asked. Harry turned back and she moved up to the counter. "I will be with you shortly, Miss Rosier," the man told her pleasantly.
She nodded, looking at the pile of wands. "Do none of them like you," she asked as Harry flicked the new wand in his hands. It was dark and slightly bent. She seemed to startle him and suddenly an entire row of wand boxes on a shelf flung out.
Harry dropped the wand as though it had hurt him. "No, no, definitely not," Ollivander said.
"I don't think any of them will like me," Harry told her.
"I wonder," the man pondered.
"I am sure there will be one that will like you. I am very excited to get my wand today," she replied to Harry.
Harry didn't look so certain. "I am not even sure I am a wizard."
She looked at him and then the boxes and wands littered on the floor. "I highly doubt that. A wand would do nothing in the hands of a Muggle," she told him, her disdain for the people coming out.
Harry gave a nervous laugh. "Yeah. What is a muggle," Harry asked her as the man could be heard in the back of the shop.
"A person that can't do magic."
"Oh," Harry responded as Mr. Ollivander came back out with three boxes. "These are all very unusual, but it would appear you are as well, Mr. Potter."
She didn't miss the wince Harry made at the word 'unusual'.
Delilah didn't say a word as a light colour wand was placed in Harry's hand. It let off golden sparks. She thought he had found his wand, but Mr. Ollivander shook his head. "No. That still isn't quite right."
Next he placed a dark wood wand in Harry's hand. There was a mixture of gold and red spark and a sound like a whip that caused them all to step back. Harry flung the wand out his hand, crying out in pain and his hand going to the lightening shapes scar on his forehead.
Everyone looked at him. "That was most abnormal. That wand is not for you. I was certain it might be. It's brother did great things... No, matter. I have one more that may like you. Take this one."
Harry slowly reached out his hand. When he finally grasped the dark wood, very bright golden sparks and a wisp of something came out. A small smile spread across Harry's face. "I like this one," the Boy-Who-Lived said.
"And it likes you. Twelve and a quarter inches, dark walnut, pliable with a phoenix feather from my travels in China, many years ago. This is very curious. I have only ever been able to collect a few pheonix feathers in my career, and they are always just two, allowing for brother or sister wands. Brother wands are more likely to combat against each other, while sister wands are more likely to get along. This wand," Mr. Ollivander said, holding the light colour wand that had originally short out golden sparks, "is the sister to yours. The other wand, well, I sold one like it many years ago. It's brother did many great things. Terrible at times, but great. The brother to this wand," Mr. Ollivander said holding up the one that had hurt Harry. "This wand, it's brother gave you that scar."
Harry and everyone looked a little surprised.
Mr. Ollivander put the wands into their boxes.
Harry looked confused. "I'm sorry, Mr. Ollivander, but I got this scar in the car crash that killed my parents."
"A car crash?" Lady Ross blurted out. "You were told your parents were killed in a car crash!"
Harry looked uncertain and took a step back. A curious thing to do for someone that was always described as fierce and brave. "I suppose that it what Muggles would understand of these things," her father said, his eyes on the wand that had so resoundingly rejected Harry. His tone was very dismissive.
Lady Ross looked very upset. "Garrick, is that the wand Harry is to get?"
"It is, Minerva. It is very clear it has chosen him."
"Very well. Please pack it up. What is the cost?"
"Four hundred and eighty-two galleons."
She nodded. It wasn't long before it was just her father and her in the store, Lady Ross having shuffled Harry out with a quick goodbye. "Mr. Ollivander, if you would, a wand for my daughter," her father said in a much more demanding voice. As he said it, she looked at the dissarray from Harry Potter. As she did, her eyes were drawn to the light color wand with a phoenix feather in it.
"Of course, Lord Rosier. Which hand is your wand hand," the man asked.
She didn't respond. Instead, she thought she heard a soft trilling and she reached out her hand. Mr. Ollivander's thick eyebrows rose, not interfering. She touched the wand, feeling a warmth spread up her arm and then through her body. "Pick it up, my dear," the man encouraged.
When she did, brilliant golden sparks, almost as bright as Harry's, and a wisp she swore was the shadow of a phoenix, came out the end. The man had a very pleased expression on his face. "Very curious indeed," Mr. Ollivander said.
She felt the eyes of her father on her. "Perhaps I should try another," she said, very reluctantly placing the wand down. It felt like she was putting a part of herself down.
"I would not recommend that, Ms. Rosier. It is always very apparent when a wand chooses a witch, and this is a strong bond. I expect to see great things from Mr. Potter, and I suspect you as well," the man said, sounding like it was Christmas morning. "If you were to work together... none may surpass you."
"Very well. I shall pay only three-hundred and fifty for the wand," her father started to haggle.
"It is a willow wand with a rather rare core, Lord Rosier. Willow, eleven and an half inches with a phoenix feather. I cannot accept less than four-hundred and fifty," Mr. Ollivander countered.
When they walked out of the store, Delilah couldn't keep the smile off her face. Her father looked at her. "You did well with Potter. You should send him an owl saying it was a pleasure to meet him and then you will befriend him on the train." Her father gave her a rare nod of approval at her performance.
"Thank you, father. I shall."
He did regard her for a long few moments. She wasn't sure if it was because of the new wand in her arms, the fact it was a sister wand to Harry Potter or something else. "Come. We shall send one of our elves to get the rest of the supplies and your mother can take you to get fitted for your uniforms next week.
"Yes, father," she said, following him toward the apparition point.
-oOo-
Little Winging, Surry, England
Harry sat on the front stoop. He had been sitting there a few hours and he felt the hunger pangs, not having lunch today. McGonagall had helped him up to the front door and had reluctantly agreed to leave him there when his relatives didn't seem to be home. What the woman hadn't really said anything about was the small suitcase on the lawn next to the stairs. There was no note. No sign on it. Just a suitcase. Harry knew what it meant and he retrieved his secret stash of quid and put it in his pocket soon after she left, when he convinced her he could get in with a spare key.
Harry knew the key would no longer be there, and he had no clue what the do. It was six weeks before he had to board the train. He had been told not to try any magic or the magical police would find him. So, he just sat on the steps. The suitcase next to his new school trunk.
His relatives were not here and he wasn't sure if it was a good thing to be found here or not. As he tried to figure out what to do, he watched a familiar man walking up the street from the trees down the end. The trees that Harry had teleported from and to with Professor McGonagall.
The old man with the long white beard and hair was dressed differently today. He had blue robes- he now knew what wizarding robes where- with golden designs and a tall, pointed hat. Harry had only ever seen Mr. Dumbledore dressed in a sharp muggle suit. As Harry watched him, he wasn't sure what to think.
"Hello, Mr. Dumbledore," Harry greeted the man.
"Good day, Harry. May I ask why you are out here with your trunk and a suitcase?"
This man was some type of social worker, so Harry figured the truth was the best. "I have been kicked out," Harry told him. "Why didn't you ever tell me I was a wizard?"
The man gave him a grandfatherly smile. "It was thought that it would be best for you not to know. I am not sure if Professor McGonagall told you, but you are quite famous in our world."
Harry gave uncertain look. "I kind of caught that today. Is it true my parents were murdered?"
There was a sad glint to his eyes. "Professor McGonagall told me about that. Yes, my boy, your parents were murdered."
"By a dark wizard?"
"Yes."
"Professor McGonagall wouldn't say his name, but Mr. Ollivander said he gave me this scar," Harry said, rubbing it. It had been soar since holding that wand earlier today. He hadn't remembered it being sore like this before.
"He called himself Voldemort. Even ten years later, his name still installs the same fear it had then. Would you mind if I join you?" Harry shifted over on the stoop and the man sat, much more nimbly than Harry had ever seen a person his age do.
"Are you my social worker?" Harry asked.
"I am actually the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I was named your magical guardian after all your other magical relatives or others your parents wanted to take care of you were killed or incapacitated," the man said.
"Why did you send me here?" Harry had a thought he could have lived a much different life.
The man sighed. "It was supposed to be a protection. You looked healthy every time I came to check on you. Harry, can you tell me truthfully, have your relatives treated you kindly or loved you?"
Harry didn't say anything. It had been beaten into him that he was to lie or say nothing should a question like this arise. After a few, Mr. Dumbledore sighed. "I should have listened to Minerva all those years ago. Do you wish to stay here?"
"No," Harry blurted out before his mind caught up with his mouth. He put a hand over his mouth, a look of fear on his face.
Mr. Dumbledore just looked at him for a long few moments. "Do you have anything else in the house?"
Harry shook his head. He knew everything he owned was in that suitcase. The man looked to age. Every year this man had come, Aunt Petunia had made the house look like Harry belonged. There were rare pictures of him that would appear the week before Mr. Dumbledore would arrive. He would also be fed what the Dursley's ate for a week or two also. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia always treated the man with respect and made sure Harry was presentable. The man would spend maybe an hour here and then leave a thick envelope on the table before he left. His relatives would be so happy for a few days, Harry would actually feel wanted because they would leave him alone.
After a long moment, the man stood. "I have arranged for a new place for you to stay. Magic has recognized your relatives will not give you board here anymore."
"Where am I going?"
"For now, one of your cousins that was not an option before. Long term, I am unsure," Mr. Dumbledore told him.
Harry scrunched his brow. Anywhere was probably better than here.
-oOo-
-oOo-
Chapter 2
July 15, 1991
Great Packington, England
Harry decidedly did not like side-a-long apparition. That is what Dumbledore called it. His stomach was roiling as he hurried to catch up to Dumbledore. The man was walking as a brisk pace, Harry's trunk in hand while Harry carried his suitcase.
The last ten hours had been a blur and confusion of all sorts of new things. This seemingly mundane farm house surrounded by fields, with a large pond and a few trees Harry thought were singing, was just as surreal as the alley filled with Wizarding stuff was earlier today.
As they approached the house, Harry saw an owl glide down and enter the house through a window. The sun was getting lower in the sky, but it would be up for another two hours or more this time of the year. Harry stopped a few feet away from door as Dumbledore knocked on it.
The old man didn't say a thing as he waited for the door to open. After a few, the door swung open. "Wotcher, there. Oh, Professor Dumbledore," a girl in her later teen years answered. She was wearing ripped jeans, a rock t-shirt and her hair was bubblegum pink.
The man chuckled at her surprised expression. "Good evening, Ms. Tonks. Is your mother or father here? I was informed they were expecting me."
The girl looked suddenly guilty. "I swear we never meant to have all there hair fall out of there head," she said, her hair falling limp and the purple eyes turning more grey.
Dumbledore's chuckle went on. "It was never proven who changed the Gryffindor's hair to yellow, and Madam Pomfrey was able to grow everyone's hair back in a few days. Just a word of advice, next time use daffodil essence, not yellow nightshade."
The girl's face was bright red. "Ah, yes, Professor. Mum! Dad!," she called out, turning into the house.
A shorter man with a well muscled build came to the door. "Afternoon, Albus. I didn't know it was customary for the Headmaster to pay a personal visit to expel someone."
"Dad!" the girl exclaimed.
Dumbledore looked just as amused. "I am afraid that I must admit her back for one more year, as dissapointed I am sure you and Andromeda are."
"Oh, yes. Very dissapointed," he gave his daughter a cheeky grin, who just looked at flushed as before. "Now, that was a rather interesting owl I received this afternoon." The short man looked around Dumbledore. "Is this him?"
"It is. Harry, you excuse my manners. Harry Potter, this is Nymphadora and Theodore Tonks. If you don't mind, I would impose on your hospitality for a few," Dumbledore said.
"It's Dora," the girl muttered before looking at him. She went straight for his forehead before meeting his eyes. "You really Harry Potter?"
"As far as I know," Harry replied. He could tell she wanted to say more, but unlike many they had met in Diagon Alley, she just shrugged her shoulders as though he wasn't anything much and then nodded for him to come inside.
Dumbledore had left his trunk just inside the door. Harry didn't let go of his suitcase. He was ready to loose everything if something went wrong. "Dad asked me to keep an eye on you while he talks with Dumbledore." Harry's stomach growled. "You hungry? Dinner was just about ready."
Harry nodded and followed her into the kitchen. The stove was busy with a pasta meal. A table was set with three places. Milk, water and some wine were next to a large bowl of salad and wooden platter with some bread and cheese.
"Take a seat. Dinner will be ready in just a moment. I hope you like chicken marsala. It's one of mum's favorites," she said, moving to a cupboard and taking out a plate and a glass.
"Can I help," Harry asked, not used to having someone else serve him, or not making most of the meals.
"Sure. I'll set a place for you if you want to strain the pasta and then mix it with that sauce," she told him.
Harry busied himself while Dora finished setting a place for him, got him a glass of milk and then joined him to finish up the chicken. "Mum said not to wait for them if you were hungry," Dora told him.
Soon he was eating. When he looked up, Dora was picked at her plate while watching him. "Did I get something on me," he asked, wiping his face with the cloth - Aunt Petunia would hit him with the ladle if he didn't use his manners - before looking down his front.
"Mum said I shouldn't ask, but did you get that scar by killing You-Know-Who," Dora asked, leaning forward.
"That is what Mr. Ollivander, Professor McGonagall and Mr. Dumbledore say," Harry told her.
"Wicked," she said with a smirk. "Wait until everyone finds out that my cousin is Harry Potter. Paul and Charlie will never believe this."
"And what exactly are you telling your friends," a stern woman's voice greeted them. Harry turned to see a tall woman with dark brown hair and grey eyes. She looked a woman of high standings with how she ported herself, but there was a kindness and her mouth and eyes looked liked she smiled and laughed often.
"Wotcher, mum," Dora said with a big smile. "Oh, just that my cousin is biggest dark wizard defeater there was."
Harry looked at her uncertain. "I never beat anyone," Harry told her.
"Dora, go to your room," the woman demanded.
"I'm not even half-done with dinner and I am seventeen. You can't tell me what to do anymore," the girl said defiantly.
"I told you not to pester Harry. Now go while I have a talk with Harry. You can take your plate and eat in the sitting room if you need."
Dora huffed. "Turn seventeen. You're supposed to be all adult now and the adults still tell me what to do," Dora muttered as she took her plate, her glass of milk and marched out of the kitchen.
Harry turned back to the woman after Dora left the room. She was looking down at him. "You look just like James, but those eyes are definitely Lily Evans," the woman said after a few.
"You knew my parents," he asked.
"Not well. I was five years ahead of them in school. James was my cousin, but my parents and his never got along well so I never saw him much. Your mother was already reportedly the brightest witch in the school by the end of her second year. No one in Hogwarts could mistake her vibrant green eyes," the woman told him.
She held out a hand. "Andromeda Tonks. Your great-grandfather was my grandfather."
Harry stretched out a hand and shook it. "Harry Potter, ma'am."
The woman cringed before smiling. "Now I just sound old. Call me Andi or Andromeda. Mind if I join you?"
"It is your house," Harry replied.
"That it is. How is Nymphadora's cooking? I have been trying to teach her more."
"It is very good," Harry complimented.
"Thank you," Dora yelled from down the hall.
Andi huffed. "One of these days she will learn some manners. On a different subject, Professor Dumbledore has told us you need a place to stay."
Harry looked down. "Yes, ma'am."
The woman didn't say anything, reaching out a hand and slowly picking up his chin so that he was looking at her. "You are a Potter and a Black. We don't look down to anyone and we don't take anyone looking down to us. We are equals among all our peers, do you understand?"
Harry met her eyes. "No," Harry admitted.
Her eyes didn't waiver from his. "Would you like to live here? My husband and I are willing to offer you a roof and family. We will never toss you out."
Harry didn't see any lie in her eyes. They were soft, but unyielding at the same time.
"Just say yes! I always wanted a younger brother," Dora called down the hall.
The woman shook her head affectionately. "One of these days," the woman muttered, still holding Harry's chin up and looking into his eyes.
"What does that mean I am a Potter and a Black?"
"If you choose to stay here, I can teach you," she offered.
"So can I!"
The woman ignored her daughter.
"Can I sleep in a real bed. Even if its just tonight," Harry asked, afraid he was asking too much.
The woman frowned. "Where did you sleep before?"
Harry clamped his mouth shut. He had said too much. She gave him a discerning look before saying, "We have an extra room with a full bed. It is yours and always will be."
Harry let out his breath. The man walked up to the door behind her, and Dumbledore stood behind Mr. Tonks. Harry nodded his agreement after a moment.
-oOo-
July 25, 1991
Great Packington, England
Harry still felt weary around the Tonks'. He was an early riser, used to getting up about five to do his paper route. He was often up an hour or more before Ted. Not having a bike, knowing where he was to go out running or something and being bored, he had decided to keep himself busy. That first morning had been a bit of a panic for him when he started to make breakfast. Andi had come in and scolded him for cooking without her or Ted.
Harry had sunk into himself and retreated back. It had been awkward, but Harry now knew he wasn't supposed to do anything like that without adult supervision. He was too young. It was so odd.
Today was a nice day, and he had wondered the fields, having been shown the barrier and where could and couldn't go. The land around the farm house was large, and it took a good two hours to walk around the entire edge. On his way back from a morning walk, he found Dora sitting in the shade of a tree at a table with books out, a feather in her hand and writing.
Coming up to her, he sat across from her. Dora was the one he liked most at this house. She teased him, and sometimes asked uncomfortable questions, but he loved the way she could changer her hair, her face or even parts of her body. Many times she had him laughing at Ted and Andi would just look on.
"Wotcher, Harry," Dora said, not looking up from what she was writting.
"What are doing?"
"Working on my transfiguration summer work. McGonagall has be doing extra credit on animagus transformations. She figures I am skilled enough and with my metamormagus powers, it will probably be easier for me," Dora told him.
He looked at her oddly. "Animag... what is that? And what is transfigmography, or what ever you said."
She laughed at him. "Transfiguration. I know you have your first year course book. It the study of how to change things. Like this," she said, taking out her wand from a holder on her arm, tapping the cup on the table and Harry looked at it wide-eyed as a small hedgehog was on the table.
"Wicked," Harry commented.
Dora laughed at him. "Isn't it? Dad said he was just like you, had never seen any of this before Hogwarts."
"Can you help me do that," Harry asked, feeling excited.
"Would love too, but you can't use your wand outside of school until you turn seventeen. I can help you start to learn the theory and give you some time once we start school," she told him.
"Let me go get my books right now," he told her, hopping up and making his way into the house. As he ran past the door to the study that Ted used most day, the man called out, "Harry, is that you?"
He stopped and back tracked just a bit. "Yes, Ted. I'm sorry for running in the house," he appologized, looked throroughly chastised even though the man hadn't said a word.
Ted just waved him off. "I'm not worried about that. Do you know a Ms. Delilah Rosier?"
Harry blinked. "I met her at Ollivanders when I got my wand."
The man nodded. "Well, it looks like you made an impression. I got this letter from her today addressed to you. If you want to write her back, you can use any of my owls."
Harry felt flabbergasted. It was one thing to suddenly have a new place and people that appeared to want him, it was another for someone his own age to be reaching out to him. It took a moment of Ted holding out the paper, a smirk on his face, before Harry walked it, took the letter and then walked up to the room they had given him.
He sat on the bed, looking at the envelope. It clearly was addressed to him, but it had no address. He noticed that it had no return address on the envelope, but Ms. Delilah Rosier, Thorn Haven. Maybe Thorn Haven was her address? Things could be different in the magical world. The Tonks called this place Rockstone Trellis. Maybe all wizarding homes had names.
Opening the letter, he noticed she had a very neat hand with small letters. It wasn't a long letter, but it for him.
-o-
Dear Scion Potter,
I would like to say it was a great pleasure to meet you the other day. My father and my family would like to offer you a warm welcome back to the Wizarding world and I look forward to attending Hogwarts with you this fall.
In the mean time, I do wish you are having a good summer. If you are not adverse, I would offer to start a correspondence. Perhaps I could answer questions you have about our world now that I know you were raised by Muggles and obviously have much to learn.
As a little hint, should you greet someone like my Lord Father or myself in the future, it is customary to bow. To extend a hand to someone is usually only done to seal a verbal agreement or to greet friends. There is a great significance to such a gesture and I would not like to see you fall prey to the less than desirable types that may be in our world.
Until I hear from you, my thoughts will be with you and hope you have a pleasant summer,
Ms. Delilah Rosier
P.S. I do enjoy sugared pineapple if you are seeking a thank you gift.
-o-
Harry looked at the letter and reread it five times before finally putting it down. His world felt upside down.
Dora asked where he had been when he finally made it back to the table and he just told her he got a letter. She shrugged it off and he opened his transfiguration book. He had a hard time concentrating on it at first, but as he read it, he was drawn into the subject, and Dora didn't seem to mind to take a break from her own studied to explain some thing to him.
A little while later, Ted came out floating three plates, some glasses and a pitcher of lemonade before him. "I thought you might be hungry."
"Thanks, Dad," Dora said, taking the thick sandwich and removing a large bite as she sat up.
"How's the studying going?"
"I think I will have this essay on animagus transformations done by Christmas if I am lucky," she whinged.
The man chuckled. "So that mean next week."
"Probably," Dora replied before taking another bite from her sandwich.
"Harry, do you need to use one of our owls?"
Harry put his sandwich down. Each meal here was three or four times what he got at the Dursley's, but he was finding he was eating much of that now. "I haven't written a letter back yet. Dora was helping me understand transfiguration."
Dora looked at him. "Who are you writing too? I thought we were the only ones you knew from the magical world?"
Harry didn't say anything, just taking another bite from his sandwich and indicating his mouth was full. Dora looked at him suspiciously.
"Your cousin Delilah sent him a letter," Ted said.
Harry almost choked. "Cousin?"
Ted laughed while Dora looked even more suspicious. "Dora's cousin, not yours. Andromeda's mother was brother to Delilah's grandfather."
"Oh," Harry said, not sure if he was relieved or sad he didn't have more family.
"Delilah wrote to Harry? None of the Rosier's have ever talked to mum or us," Dora commented.
"I met her at Ollivander's, the day I got my wand," Harry told them.
Dora pursed her lips. "Jack and Tiberius are real berks. I would watch out for her. I would wouldn't put it past Lord Rosier to be up to something."
"That is enough of that, for now, Dora. You of all people should know that not all family members are like the rest of their family," Ted admonished her.
Dora didn't look happy. "Maybe, but I would still never trust them."
Harry frowned this time. He had never had a friend before, but in the ten days he had known the Tonks, they had not lied to him. Not that he knew. Ted must have seen his face. "Harry, if you want to send a letter back, I think that would be a good thing to do. We never know who we may be peers with or have to deal with in the future. Like I reminded my daughter, not everyone is the same in a family."
"Like your wife," Harry asked, not knowing what was different.
"Like Andromeda. You may not know this yet, but the Blacks are an old family, as are the Rosiers and Potters. Many families have traditions, like the Black and Rosiers are known to be more blood purist at times, and the Potters have been more a progressive family, but it is not uncommon for certain individuals to change or be different," Ted told him.
"What is a blood purist," Harry asked, not liking the sound of it and unsure if he should write Delilah back.
"Those that think wizards should only come from families that have only wizards. People like us are considered dirty or blood traitors," Dora said bitterly.
"What Dora means is that your mother, like myself, are Muggle-born, both our parents were non-magical. Some call people like you and Dora half-bloods, because you don't come a witch and wizard that only decent from magical blood for a few generations."
"Why would that matter?"
"It doesn't, but many people think it does," Dora replied. "Harry, don't put up with anyone calling you or your friends names. Especially some prissy, little pureblood brat."
Harry scrunched his brow. He wasn't sure why, but her statement made him just as angry as he had been to hear Lord Rosier say 'Muggle' as though it was full of filth. "Like you?" Harry shot back before getting up and walking away.
A while later, Harry was blowing on the parchment. He was trying to get the hand of using quills and this thick paper, but it was't natural, and his already messy writting was even worse. He was about to ball it up and put it in the waste bucket like the other five sheets when a knock came at his door.
He turned to see Dora and then turned back to the paper.
"Can we talk," Dora asked.
"I'm busy," he told her.
Dora walked in and sat on his bed. "I can see that. Listen, I wasn't trying to be a twat earlier." Harry frowned, but sat up and turned to her. He just stared at her and she went on after a dramatic sigh. "My mum was cast of the family for marrying my dad. Most of her family has shunned her and actively tried to make her and my dad's life miserable at times. Also, most of my cousins, some of them yours, are usually stuck up prats with lots of money and espesouing purebloods as the epitomy of wizardkind."
Harry looked at her for a moment. "I didn't understand half of what you just said," Harry told her.
Dora laughed. "They are mostly berks and treat us like scum. Better?"
"That I understand," he replied dryly and she gave him a stink eye before throwing his pillow at him.
"HEY! That is the sixth time I have written this," Harry whinged as he just blocked the pillow.
"You writing some long love letter or something?"
Harry made a face. "Eww. Why would anyone write a love letter?"
Dora snorted as she laughed. "Right, still young. Some day you will."
He still made a face. "I dont' understand why blood and everything is so important. Do you know why I shouldn't shake hands? Delilah warned be about that."
Dora shrugged. "There is certain magic that will bind deals with a handshake. It's nothing bad, but if you go back on the deal, I hear you'll feel for a few days. It is rather unpleasant, but nothing that will hurt you long term."
"Oh," Harry said, not liking the sound of that.
"I am making a curry tonight. You want to help?"
"Sure. Let me just finish this and go find an owl to use," Harry told her.
"Sure. I won't be starting for another hour so have time to write to your girlfriend," Dora teased.
Harry made another face. "She is not my girlfriend," he retorted.
She got up and started to make some kissy noised. Harry picked up the pillow and threw it at her. It his the doorframe. Dora laughed. "You have to be faster than that," she mocked as she walked down the wall.
-oOo-
July 26, 1991
Stillwater, England
Delilah was going over the wand movement for the hundredth time. She was determined to get it right the first day in class. The tutors her mother had hired were just as determined. "Non," the French woman reprimanded her for the tenth time this morning.
She closed her eyes as the woman came over talking in French. "Your movement is still to big. You keep making it that big and anyone will see what you are doing from a hundred yards. Small and precise. Like this," Madame Delannoy stated.
She opened eyes to watch. Delilah didn't see the different. She saw the wand movement. It was very small, and Delilah swore hers was just the same. "Yes, Madam Delannoy," she stated, do all she could to keep the aggravation out of her voice. The last time she had snapped at the woman, Delilah was walking and sitting gingerly for two days after the stining and whip hexes she got. Her parent looked away from their daughters tears, only say she got what she deserved for not taking her tutoring seriously.
Delilah couldn't wait to have a real wand in her hand and to accidentally turn it on Madam Delannoy.
"Twenty more times," the woman demanded.
Delilah didn't say a word, just going through the routine again. She should know the wand movement and incantation for all first and second year spells by September first.
It was close to one when her tutor finally declared she had gotten it and gave Delilah an hour break to get lunch.
She rushed to the kitchen. "Rosy," she called out. "Lunch, please!"
Three house elves were bustling around the kitchen. Tonight was a dinner party with her godfather and godmother, the Malfoys, her cousin Draco and her brothers. "Yes, Missy Delilah," the tallest female house elf called out.
A few minutes later she had a large bowl of stew, some bread, milk and a letter place before her. "Thank you," she told the house elf. Father may be very dismissive of them, but mother said the lady-of-the-house should always be nice to them. You never knew when you may need them to help with a sudden dinner or a tea, and happy house elves would do more than ones that only served their masters because they had too.
Delilah pushed the letter to the side. It was probably Daphne or Tracey, who sent her letters two or three times a week at times. When she was done, she finally picked up the letter and her eyes drew wide. It was a messy scrawl, but she made out H. Potter and _ Trellis.
She was surprised he had written back, sure he must get hundreds of letters a week. Perhaps she had made more of an impression than she had thought. After talking with her mother about Diagon Alley last week she thought she had messed it up, but her father still seemed happy with her performance.
Looking at the letter, a glimmer of hope struck in her.
"Rosy, can you inform Madam Delannoy that I will not be returning to lessons today. I will be at lessons at our normal time tomorrow," Delilah told her elf.
"Yes, Missy Delilah," Rosy said before walking away.
Delilah put Harry's letter into her pocket and wolfed down the rest of her meal. She knew it was unladylike, but her parent and brother were not around, so it didn't count.
Delilah knew her parents would want to see this, but she wanted to read the letter first. Once done, she made it up to her room using the old servant stairs and passages. Her parents didn't think it dignified for them to stoop to such levels, but Delilah didn't mind it he least.
She didn't take a full breath until her door closed. Taking the letter out of her pocket, she opened it as nicely as she could. Her parents would want to examine everything.
-o-
Dear Ms. Rosier,
-o-
Delilah rose an eyebrow. The boy had crossed out her first name. She mused if that was a Muggle thing. His handwriting was also just barely legible. All items she will have to work with him on.
-o-
My summer is the best I have every had. I hope you have had a nice summer.
I do hope I didn't offend your father. The next time I do see you and your family, I hope to do better. The family that has taken me in has offered to start teaching me the proper ways and have started to show me what it means to be a wizard. They are technically my cousins, and related to you, from what Ted says.
Andi, well Andromeda Tonks, has said things with my parents will should be settle shortly after my birthday and I should be able to become a a Scion. If you would, I would like to learn what it means to be a Scion.
Sincerly,
Harry Potter
P.S.: My cousin Dora said I should not call you by your first name until we know each other more or you give me permission.
-o-
Delilah read the missive twice. There was something about how open and the unguarded he was that she liked. As she read it again for the third time, she didn't want to give this to her parents, but the consequences of not doing so could be dire.
When she was sure that she had memorized the letter, she moved to her desk and took out a fresh piece of parchment. Delilah could send him a quick response before her mother helped her to draft the proper response.
-oOo-
-oOo-
Chapter 3
July 27, 1991
Great Packington, England
Harry was loving the feel of the wind through his hair as he flew behind Dora. He had never felt so free or in-control as he did when flying. The Cleansweep Five felt like an extension of him and it responded to him.
Dora pulled up next to him. "Follow if you dare," she challenged with a serious look.
"Where are we going," Harry yelled back. Dora rolled and turned. Harry gripped the broom he was allowed to borrow and took off after her. It was thrilling to dive after her. He had no hesitation to speed between the trees or skin across the pond, having to pull up sharply to not hit the house. Dora laughed as she climbed and had to kick off the top of the chimney to miss is.
Harry laughed behind her. They were just about to blast through the barn when a voice bellowed, "Nymphadora Alula and Harry James get down here now."
All the joy that he felt suddenly felt like a cold, hard pit in his stomach. He knew the tone of voice to mean he was in serious trouble. Dora flew around the barn and landed just next to a very irate looking Andi. Harry, swallowing hard, landed a few feet behind Dora.
The grey eyes were bouncing between them. "What was that! I look out and almost see you and Harry crashing through the kitchen window! And what was that flying through the barn!"
"Oh, come off it mum. It was just some fun. Neither of us would have gotten hurt. I made sure to put cushioning charms on both of us," Dora replied in an easy tone.
"He is only ten, Dora! What happened if he had hit the side of the house and your charms didn't' work. You would be lucky that I was home like today," Andi yelled back.
Dora lolled her head back. "Mum, I wouldn't do anything I didn't think Harry couldn't handle. He's a natural."
Harry was standing, his shoulders slumped and trying to make himself as small as he could. He was waiting for her to go get Ted and then...
"Harry? Do you understand how dangerous that was," Andi asked him, still sounding upset.
He shook his head. He was having fun and Dora had cast a few spells on him before they started. He hadn't come anywhere close to crashing or anything else.
Andi sighed. "Harry, you are in trouble. I will be taking the broom for the week, but nothing else will happen to you." She walked over to him and leaned down. "We will never hit you or do anything your relatives did."
He looked up at her. Tears threatened to fall. He hadn't cried in years. "I'm sorry," he told her.
She reached out and he flinched, taking a step back. "Go put the broom away and then go get cleaned up. Lunch will be ready soon."
He nodded. "Yes, Mrs. Tonks."
He didn't see the concerned eyes as he walked away. Ted