CHAPTER TWO

Still recovering from Ron and Hermione's intervention, which Harry thought was unwarranted, he followed them down the stairs. He loved everything about the Burrow, the thoroughly magical property on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole in Devon, England. The rolling cornfields, barn, pigpen, paddocked orchard, chicken coop, and fertile garden with a frog pond. Mr. Weasley's garage for Muggle artifacts and the stone outhouse that was converted to a broom shed. Everything about the place was as far from the Dursleys as one could achieve.

Harry was eager to put his agonizing summer at #4 Privet Drive behind him. He would appreciate no more comments about his drastic weight loss and be allowed to recover in peace. The delicious aroma jabbed Harry in the throat, making him gulp at the sight of it all. A full fry-up was displayed down the center of the table: baked beans, a choice of sausage or bacon, sliced-up tomatoes, fried bread, toast, hash, and fried eggs. Mrs. Weasley turned away from the sink, having deposited the pots and pans inside, and jolted with fright at their arrival.

"Good morning, dears!" She recovered badly. Harry smiled warmly but averted his gaze while she examined him over in the morning sunlight with hers. "Have a seat, have a seat!"

She corralled the three of them to the table and pulled out their seats. Harry felt overwhelmed by the kindness displayed before him. Eventually, Mrs. Weasley realized that Harry knew that she was staring at him and she returned almost to her usual self. Almost.

"So, Harry, dear … h-how was your summer with your family?" she asked him while he served himself as the platters floated past.

"Boring." Harry described evasively. "I just did my summer coursework and some chores around the house. How has yours been so far?"

"Your hands did feel rough. Calloused." Mrs. Weasley nodded, "Eating enough?"

"Plenty." Harry replied with a shrug; Ron and Hermione shared a look. "This is delicious, Mrs. Weasley."

"Eat all you want. You need feeding-up." Mrs. Weasley encouraged, glancing at Ron, "You two are the same: growing upwards but never sideways."

First Dumbledore, then Ron and Hermione, now Mrs. Weasley. How many more people were going to patronize him? Harry was relieved to have that encounter over with, but it distracted him from how full he was feeling. He was barely finished with his plate and Ron was reaching for second helpings. As much as he resented the Dursleys lackluster meal plan, he found some rationale in the change.

Even if they weren't clever enough to intend it, Harry decided he was not going to be a burden to the people who took care of him any longer. He carried his plate to the sink and began washing it along with the pots and pans.

Ron and Hermione said nothing till Mrs. Weasley returned to the kitchen.

"Harry, you're showing me up!" Ron complained, indicating himself.

"It's no big deal." Harry told Mrs. Weasley. "I do the dishes everyday back home."

"You're not to lift a finger around here. I forbid it!" Mrs. Weasley shooed him from the sink. "Besides, I've got just the charm for this."

With a wave of her wand, the dishes began cleaning themselves. Feeling rather foolish, Harry excused himself outside. His stomach had not felt so full in weeks and he appreciated it. It was barely concave now with a complete breakfast. Harry rolled up the hem of his jeans to his knees, revealing the pale skin and hairy down of his thin calves.

Harry thought they weren't completely lacking shape as he kicked off his shoes and rested his feet in the cool frog pond. It was easy to find the shape of his shin bone from his ball of muscle behind it.

His knees were still boney and knobby, but he thought they looked that way not matter what he weighed. Harry rested his elbows on these knees, watching the garden gnomes scurry about in the strawberry bushes.

"You're always so well-trained when you come back from holiday." Ron teased him when he and Hermione joined him out in the garden, clapping Harry on his boney shoulder. "Soon enough, you'll be just as lazy as I am." He glanced at Harry's holey trainers and callused boney hands, "Well, close to it."

Before he could hide them, Hermione caught a glimpse of his legs. He knew he was in for it.

"These chores that your aunt and uncle give you … what exactly are they?" asked Hermione.

There were so many, Harry bundled the dozens of outdoor tasks as 'gardening' and the ones indoors as 'cleaning'.

"Unless you're implying that assigning chores is now abuse." Harry withheld a smirk, "I'd be as fat as Dudley if they didn't order me about."

"Yeah … about as fat as a thestral." Ron scoffed under his breath.

"No, doing chores and helping around the house is not abuse." She agreed. Then her eye grew a hard tint, "Withholding food and laying a hand on you for refusing are!"

Harry had no excuse for that and did not disagree.

"Other people have it worse, I'm sure." Harry defended. He indicated Ron, "You probably do more chores than I do."

Ron frowned, "I have help."

"In a normal household, the residents share in maintaining it. They don't relegate it to one person, especially if that person is not being paid for their services." Hermione added, "Voluntarily, speaking."

Harry sighed, "I was dumped on them, guys. They never wanted a second child."

"'Dumped on them'?!" Hermione quoted, outraged. "Their family was murdered by a tyrannical madman! You barely survived! Anyone with half a brain would be honored to take you. You had the entire magical community groveling for the chance. But Dumbledore placed you with them –?!"

Harry cut across her, "He says I must consider their home mine for my mother's protective enchantment to continue working."

"Does Dudley still beat you?" asked Ron, setting his jaw.

"Dudley had already gotten bored of me by the time Dumbledore gave them a stern reprimand." Harry shrugged, reminiscing the encounter. He insisted, to Hermione especially, "He defended me!"

"He felt responsibility." Hermione shook her head, "He should never have put you there in the first place. He knew he was just as guilty."

"This is Dumbledore we're talking about." Ron reminded her. "He adores Harry. He'd never let Harry suffer if he'd known."

"But he did know!" Hermione argued back, turning away from Harry. "How could he not? Why else would he come down hard on the Dursleys?!"

"Hermione!" Harry chuckled uneasily, unnerved by her passion. He touched her shoulder to turn her about, "You're acting like they intentionally starved me and worked me down. Think about it. That would be sick. Like it or not, I was forced on the Dursleys. It took years for me to understand this. You can't make someone care about you. It's not just handed around. For them to not dump me at an orphanage, it's fair to do work for them."

"Oh, Harry." Hermione whimpered. "I am so sad for you."

He repeated, "Other people have it worse." He glanced around to the broom shed. "Do you want to play Quidditch, Ron?"

"What?!" Ron asked in a startled fashion.

"Quidditch." Harry headed towards that stone building. "I don't want to waste anymore of my summer on the Dursleys."

His air of finality silenced them. He did not know for how long it would last. But Ron did not wish to play Quidditch so soon after the row. Harry spent a while alone, floating on one of the Weasley's broomsticks. He thought about how happy he was to be at the burrow and dreaded the eyes he would draw shopping on Diagon Alley, if Ron and Hermione's opinions were anything to go by.

Let them watch, Harry thought to himself. Let them entertain themselves with rumors about me. Nothing they whisper this year can be worse than the last.

He could tell that Hermione was still simmering and brewing with thoughts to voice about the topic. But Ron was more eager to resume their natural friendship. He had a less analytical eye than Hermione.