Disclaimer: I am borrowing from the creative mind of J.K. Rowling.
Warning: This story is rated as T for a reason there is a scene of child abuse and swearing in this chapter.
Thank you to my beta Trucklesinthetree. If you have not read Remembering Me and the sequel Remembering Me: Into the Serpent's Lair, you should check it out. It is listed as a favorite on my profile page and in my community, Melverne's Picks. I am looking for stories to add to the community, if you have a suggestion PM me.
Chapter five: The Pox Party
"Mrs Figg! Mrs Figg!" Harry screamed from the bathroom.
Arabella ran into the room to see what was wrong. Neville and Harry were at opposite ends of the bathtub. Neville had an alarmed look on his face as Harry held his hands cupped over his nose and mouth, his green eyes shining with panic.
"Kechew!" Harry sneezed and orange flames shot out between his little fingers. There were tears in his eyes when he looked up at her.
"What's wrong with me?" The terrified boy wailed from behind his hands.
"Shhh Harry, it's alright. You'll be fine," Arabella said as she crouched down in front of him, tenderly stroking his wet head. "The Dragon Pox has entered the next stage. You will probably start running a higher fever now too. I know the sparks and flames are scary but it won't hurt anything," she comforted in a soothing voice.
Arabella gently pried Harry's hands away from his face and felt his shriveled fingers, deciding it was time for them to get out. She stood up, pulling Harry to his feet with her and said, "Up you go. If you two stay in much longer you will turn into prunes."
After she had Harry standing on the floor mat she helped Neville out as well and handed him a towel to dry off with. She sat down on the side of the tub, reaching down through the colorful bubbles to release the drain.
Neville dried himself off while Arabella patted Harry dry. She didn't want him to scratch the pox marks and spread them. Soaking in the tub had faded the spider web of ink stains on Harry to a smoky grey. It would probably take a few days for the ink to wear completely off.
"ACHOO!" A burst of flame jetted from Harry's nose and mouth. Arabella laughed at the startled look on the boys' faces. Neville and Harry shared uncertain smiles. Harry's face crinkled up, "choo!" Followed by a smaller spark. They all laughed.
"You missed one," Neville helpfully pointed out another blemish on Harry's skin to Arabella as he finished dressing.
"Thank you, Neville," Arabella patiently replied for the fifth time while applying the salve to Harry.
"Why don't you use a healing balm on Harry's back?' Neville continued. "That big red one his uncle gave him really hurts. Doesn't it, Harry?"
Harry stiffened under Arabella's touch. He looked at Neville with a betrayed expression on his face. "You said you wouldn't tell!"
Neville stood up straight and his chest swelled angrily.
"I didn't tell anything," he said defensively, looking down on the smaller boy.
"Yes you did. You said… you said..." Harry stuttered along angrily.
"Harry's uncle is a big mean bully and hits him," Neville said pointedly, looking Arabella in the eye before turning to Harry. "There! Now I told."
Water ran down from Harry's wet head over his nose and onto the floor. The audible drip of water was the only sound as the boys stood rigid; facing each other with their fists clenched trying to stare the other down.
"Neville, could you excuse Harry and me please? We will be out in a minute," Arabella said, turning Neville towards the door and giving him a gentle push.
She shut the door behind him and picked up a clean nightshirt out of the whicker basket for Harry.
Suddenly everything in the bathroom became fascinating to Harry. His gaze shifted busily about the room; anywhere to avoid looking Arabella in the eye.
"Come here, Harry," Arabella called while bunching up the clothing to make it easier to slip over his head.
Harry walked over to her and raised his hands. The light fabric fluttered down over his head. After tying the laces at his neck Arabella slid his glasses on. She took Harry's hands in hers and rubbed her thumbs in comforting little circles on the back of his hands.
With a big sigh, Harry's shoulders relaxed a little at the soothing touch.
"I don't want to mix a healing balm and an anti itching salve. So we will use the healing balm on your back tonight before you go to bed. I didn't realize it hurt so badly. In the future, if anything hurts please tell me right away," Arabella said softly.
The black head bobbed uncertainly.
Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon don't like whinging. They get really mad when I say anything unless there is a lot of blood. And a punishment is supposed to hurt so I know better, Harry thought to himself.
She released Harry's hands to rifle through the medicine cabinet and pulled out a potion. Harry made a sour face when he saw the decanter.
"This is a potion for pain relief. It will make your back feel better until we can use the healing balm tonight," Arabella explained, noticing Harry's expression.
Harry scrunched his toes up nervously on the cool tile floor at the mention of the welts on his back.
A dose of the potion was measured into a drinking cup and handed to Harry. Without a word he drained the contents. He grimaced and stuck his tongue out, trying to get the taste out of his mouth.
Maybe if I just do everything Mrs Figg says, she won't talk about the other stuff, Harry thought to himself hopefully.
Arabella smiled at Harry. "You understand that Neville is just trying to help you, right?"
Harry hung his head and replied cautiously, "Yeah. I hope he still wants to be m' friend."
"I think you should apologize to Neville."
"Yes, Mrs Figg. I will," Harry soberly replied.
Not wanting to push Harry any further Arabella gave him a quick hug before turning him towards the door. "Go play. There are some toys on the kitchen table for you."
Harry felt like a criminal on death row who had just received a pardon. He smiled brightly at Mrs Figg as he ran out of the bathroom.
"Thanks Mrs Figg!"
Neville was sitting on the floor with a few toys spread around him. He looked up when he heard Harry's bare feet slapping the wood floor as he ran into the room. Suddenly Harry dropped to the floor and slid past Neville like a base runner. He came to a stop a few feet later, rolled onto his stomach and propped himself on his elbows.
Neville twisted around and laughed at Harry's wild entrance.
"I bet I can slide further than that," he challenged.
"I wasn't tryin'. If it's gonna count, I wanna second go at it," Harry responded with a friendly smile.
Neville started to put his toys away, just like his Gran taught him to, now that he had someone to play with. Harry scooted over on his knees to help.
"Neville... I'm sorry I got mad."
"Well I'm not sorry that I told," Neville replied bluntly. He plodded on bravely. "And I'm telling my Gran too. I don't care if it makes you mad either. Nobody should hit you like that."
Harry's stomach went sour. "Please don't, Neville," he implored in a whisper. "You already told Mrs Figg."
"We're friends right?" Neville asked suddenly.
Without any hesitation Harry said, "Yeah." The sour feeling in his stomach eased and Harry felt a warm sensation creep over him instead.
"Then I'll keep on telling until he stops hurting you," Neville said seriously.
"But what if they don't? After I told the teacher, they stopped talking to me. It was like I wasn't there. What if... what if they lock me in the cupboard and forget I'm there?"
oOo
Harry hurried down the driveway with a worried expression on his face. It was well past the time he was due to get home. He was way behind on his chores. Dinner did not wait for Harry. If his chores weren't done on time, Harry didn't get to eat.
He ducked low, pressed his back against the house and crept under the kitchen window hoping that his aunt hadn't noticed the time. Harry could hear Petunia angrily pacing the floor. Her feet cracked liked gunshots causing Harry to cringe with each step.
"No, Principal Prescott. I assure you Dudley would never do such a thing," Petunia assured in an affronted tone of voice.
Harry froze beneath the window when he heard the school principal's name.
"Well," she huffed," I don't know why Harry told you that. They get along fine at home."
Harry drew a slow and quiet breath as he crouched down below the window, afraid that he would get caught eavesdropping.
"The boy is lying because he doesn't want to get in trouble."
"Well I will talk to Dudley about it and make sure. Yes. I will talk to Harry too. Vernon and I will definitely talk to him," Petunia maliciously promised.
A chill ran down Harry's spine, his bowels iced over and he began to tremble uncontrollably.
"Thank you again. Have a good night," Petunia said hanging up the phone. She glanced at the clock on the wall.
Harry should be home by now. Where is that brat? He's probably hiding, if he knows what is good for him. This is completely unacceptable. He cannot drag Dudley's name through the mud like that. The neighbors will think our sonis nothing more than a common thug," she thought furiously.
She walked out the backdoor to look for the source of her ire. In her fit she let the door slam shut - A transgression that earned anyone else an instant scolding. Her hateful gaze scanned the empty backyard as she walked around to the driveway.
Harry struggled to quit shaking and get up. His knees wobbled as he stood. One hand rested on the house to steady himself. He looked up a moment later to find Aunt Petunia staring right at him. Her eyes blazed with anger as she marched over to him. He couldn't move. Harry's legs ignored his desire to run and hide.
Petunia spotted the irksome boy beneath the kitchen window. No doubt the little sneak had listened to every word of her call. She stalked over to him angrily, seized Harry's arm and shook him violently. Her perfectly manicured nails pierced the threadbare, long sleeved shirt and cruelly dug into the soft flesh under Harry's arm. The woman looked for any witnesses before she grabbed a fistful of the messy black hair and dragged the petrified boy into the house.
"Ow," Harry whimpered. Tears squeezed out of the corner of his eyes as he was pulled painfully behind his aunt in an awkward bent over trot. His hands gently held onto Petunia's thin arm trying to stop her from jerking so hard. He knew from experience that if he tried to pull away or pry her hand out of his hair it would only hurt worse.
Once inside, she viciously wrenched the tiny boy out from behind her, and released his hair, spinning Harry into the kitchen and onto the floor. "Cupboard now!" She acidly commanded.
Without a backward glance, Harry scampered for his cupboard. He crawled across the thinly padded mattress and pressed his back into the corner to keep a wary eye on the door. He had barely settled when the bolt slid into place with an ominous click, locking Harry in.
The worst part of getting punished was waiting for Uncle Vernon to come home. It was usually around six in the evening but sometimes it was even later. If it was later, something bad usually had happened at work and Uncle Vernon would be in a right paddy of a mood. Any punishments dealt out on a late night were much worse than when his Uncle came home on time. Harry would sit in the cupboard counting the chimes of the clock so he would know what to expect.
The overhead light held a burned out light bulb. It had not been replaced for several months. Vernon had had to replace them every few weeks once Harry had grown tall enough to reach the chain to turn it on. It frustrated the man to no end once he figured out that Harry was leaving it on at night. Beating Harry every time he replaced the bulb or found him with the light on didn't discourage the boy from turning it on. Harry couldn't help himself. The only comfort he received after getting punished or having a nightmare was to turn on the light. Then he wasn't all alone in the dark anymore.
Once Petunia moved away from the door and turned on the telly, Harry jumped up and groped around in the dark for the chain. His hand batted the hanging chain causing it to swing about. Eventually he got a hold of the light switch and gave it a tug. Nothing. Harry pulled on the chain again. The blackened bulb didn't respond.
"Pleeeease," Harry whispered desperately and tried one more time. There was a flicker in the bulb this time. Slowly it brightened until Harry could see his scantily furnished cupboard.
Dudley's old urine stained mattress lay in the furthest corner from the cupboard door. It had replaced Harry's old crib mattress. Once Harry became used to the smell he was grateful to have more room to stretch out.
Fortunately, Harry was warm blooded because he only had one ratty blanket for the bed and no sheets. Most of the time he slept in nothing but the shirt he'd been wearing. He usually rolled up into a ball and tucked his knees up under the shirt to fight off the early morning chill. The blanket was used as a pillow most of the time until it started to get cold. For the really cold days he stayed fully dressed, laid some clothes by the door to stop the draft and piled the few remaining articles of clothing on top of him for the extra insulation.
Harry had cleared the top shelf of the cleaning supplies to have someplace to put his oversized, secondhand clothes. His meager wardrobe consisted of two pairs of trousers, two long sleeved shirts, one jumper and a few pairs of holey socks. The worn out trainers had been rubbed smooth on the bottom and leaked through the cracks if Harry's feet got wet. The shoes were too big for his feet and had to be stuffed with paper. Harry refused to wear any of Dudley's old pants after finding a brown streak. They were too big for him anyway. The underclothes just slid down and bunched up uncomfortably the few times he had tried to wear any.
His schoolbooks were piled next to the head of the mattress. There were also a few toys salvaged from the rubbish bin. Dudley had broken them and left them in his toy room upstairs. Aunt Petunia periodically cleared out the broken items to make room for Dudley's new stuff. The toys were in a small box carefully hidden under the lowest step in the cupboard.
Pushed as far away from his bed as possible was also a mop and bucket. It was used by Harry for other things than just cleaning the floor. Harry all too frequently had to clean it out. The stench hung in the air of the poorly ventilated cupboard if he didn't clean it every day. Being locked away more than eight hours a day was just too long for Harry to hold it in.
Harry pulled out his schoolbooks. Since he was locked in he might as well get something done. It would help keep him from dwelling on Uncle Vernon's return.
By the time the clock struck five Harry had long finished his homework. He had moved on to studying for a test, which he would deliberately fail. That was another hard lesson he had learned, never do anything better than Dudley.
When the clock rang out for quarter to six, Harry could no longer study. He stood up and turned the light off. It would only make his uncle madder if they found him with the light on again. He curled up tightly in the corner to apprehensively wait for Uncle Vernon to come home.
At six Aunt Petunia started to cook supper. His stomach rumbled at the smell of the chicken pot pies wafting from the oven. Sometime before the clock chimed six fifteen Uncle Vernon came home. Harry's heart swelled with hope that today was a good day for his uncle at work.
"You'll never guess what happened today. They found the boy on top of the school. Then he went and tried to blame Dudley for it!" Petunia started in as soon as her husband set foot in the kitchen.
"Un-bloody-believable! How dare he. I'll show him what's what," Vernon raged.
"Vernon please. Remember Dumbledore's warning," Petunia cautioned.
"Who cares what that old codger thinks? He doesn't have to put up with the boy. We do!" Vernon licked his lips nervously, betraying his boastful words.
"Just take it easy. The principal asked if Dudley bullied Harry at home. We don't want him to sully our little Dudley's reputation further with those filthy lies,' Petunia warned. "I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea of how we raise the boy either."
"You're right there. The last time with that nosy teacher was a near disaster. It's unnerving what their kind can do. Just like that," Vernon snapped his fingers then continued, "neither one of those uppity teachers remembered a thing. Kind of gives me the willies just thinking about it. How long has he been locked up?"
"Since four or so. I caught the little snoop listening to me outside the kitchen window."
"He didn't. I bet that little thief stole the pocket change I left on the counter," Vernon said scornfully.
"I did not! Dudley took it to get sweets for him and his friends," Harry suddenly hollered from the cupboard and kicked the wall in frustration. He slapped a hand over his mouth an instant later at his outburst.
"I won't take back talk from you, you scrotty little runt!" Vernon swore, heading for the cupboard.
"Vernon stop!"
The out of shape former athlete lumbered to a halt. His nostrils flared angrily.
"Well, there's more for him than just the back of my hand. I'll just wait for the weekend to set him right. Give him a little treat to look forward to. But for tonight…" he leered and opened the cupboard.
"Come on out boy. You've got work to do," he said in a false, friendly voice.
Harry slowly climbed to his feet, wary of the concealed threat.
"Come on," Vernon repeated motioning with his hand.
In a burst of speed Harry shot out the door and ducked under Vernon's arm with his hands covering his bottom. Surprisingly he made it through untouched. He quickly spun around to watch his uncle.
"Not tonight boy, but soon enough you'll get it. Tonight it's going to be nothing but chores for you. Yes. Right until Friday absolutely nothing but chores and the cupboard for you. Now go set the table."
Harry hurried to obey and quickly set the table for four. The aroma of the fresh chicken pot pies that filled the room was mouth watering. Vernon sat down at the table and peered at Harry critically, waiting for him to make a mistake.
Dudley sauntered into the kitchen a few minutes later and strolled by the counters to see what was for desert.
"Snitch," he muttered just loud enough for Harry to hear before sitting down next to his father.
Ignoring the verbal jab, Harry finished setting the table.
Petunia made her way around, serving up an individual chicken pot pie for each plate until she reached Harry.
"Not tonight Petunia,' Vernon said swiftly. "He can watch us eat tonight. Maybe someday you'll learn not to bite the hand that feeds you, boy."
The unclaimed pies were set in the middle of the table for Harry to stare at.
Petunia cut up Dudley's meal. She mixed the rich gravy with the flaky crust, crisp vegetables and tender white chicken. The savory dish sat steaming in front of the rotund boy.
"Let it cool, Dudykins, or it will burn your mouth," Petunia affectionately warned him.
Leaning in over the plate, Dudley breathed in deeply and gushed, "Gosh Mum that smells really yummy." He fanned the food in Harry's direction under the pretense of cooling the food. "Doesn't it smell good, Dad?" Dudley prompted for a second opinion.
"Yes it does. Your Mum is a right fine cook, no two ways about it," Vernon replied playing along childishly with Dudley as he spitefully watched Harry out of the corner of his eye.
Much to Dudley's delight Harry's stomach rumbled. He snickered in response and toyed with his food some more before taking a bite. "Mmmmm," Dudley hummed loudly.
Harry's hands were clamped so tightly onto his chair his knuckles had turned white. There was nothing he could do but watch. The corner of his lip glistened with saliva.
Maybe I can nick something later when I clean the dishes. He thought hopefully.
"So," Vernon asked in a sickly sweet voice between mouthfuls, "how did you get on top of the school?"
"I dunno, sir," Harry replied quietly. He sipped at his water nervously, hoping to drown his gnawing stomach.
"You don't know how? Reeeaallly?" Vernon asked skeptically. He scrutinized the petrified boy, trying to root out a confession
"Dudley, Piers and some other boys were chasin' me you see and..." Harry stopped right there when he noticed Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were glaring at him with hateful expressions. Vernon looked tightly wound and ready to pounce.
His instinct for self preservation kicked in and he lied, "I snuck up the stairwell we aren't supposed to and climbed up the fire ladder to the roof."
"That's a lie, Dad," Dudley accused. "The door to the roof is always locked. Only the principal and school custodian have the key. Wait, I know! Maybe he flew up there. Like that flying motorcycle he's always goin' on about."
Dudley always knew how to take a troublesome issue for Harry and make it worse. Harry told about his flying motorcycle dream once and Vernon went on a rampage. Never ever did Harry mention any of his dreams again.
He didn't dare say anything about the nightmares that woke him up in the middle of the night screaming bloody murder - The nightmare about the green light and the red haired lady crying out his name before falling against his crib. How she slid down the bars with the light fading from her once sparkling green eyes. The sickening thud of her body hitting the floor. How she rolled on to her side to leave her beautiful face staring up at him with that awful blank stare. The dark man waving a stick at him and shouting what sounded like "abracadabra".
The back of Harry's shirt stuck to his sweaty back and he shivered in his chair remembering the nightmare. A sharp cuff behind his ear, however, brought him swiftly back to the conversation again.
"Now answer me!" Vernon shouted.
"I'm sorry, I don't know what you asked sir," Harry trembled.
"I asked if you stole the keys, clunk head."
Dudley laughed hard at the clunk head comment. He wanted more than anything to crow, 'You're gonna get it! You're gonna get it!'
"No sir," Harry said shaking his head.
"Then how did you get up there? I suppose they just left the door unlocked for any old kid to climb up on the roof."
Harry was digging himself in deep fast and floundered about for an acceptable answer. He couldn't think of anything and settled on the truth as he saw it.
"There must of been a strong wind, sir. I was behind the alley running from... um playing… and then I was on the roof." Harry held his hands up helplessly at the end of explanation.
Vernon sat up straight and leveled a haughty glare at Harry.
"I knew it. Thought you'd keep one of your freaky things to yourself, did you? I told you what'd happen," Vernon finished by rolling up his sleeves.
Harry sat very still watching in horror. He grabbed hold of the chair again and waited.
The chair Vernon was sitting in screeched on the floor as he scooted away from the table. His meaty hand reached over and grabbed Harry's arm. He dragged Harry, and the chair he refused to let go of, over to him.
"Let go of it, boy," he hissed menacingly.
"Please don't. I didn't mean to," Harry cried.
"Vernon, control yourself," Petunia cautioned him.
"He's just going to get his arse beat, Petunia. We can't have him doing freaky things and expect to get away with it, can we?"
"No, you're right of course. Just do a proper job of it," she replied, hinting that Vernon wasn't to leave any noticeable bruises.
"Now come here, boy," Vernon put his foot on Harry's chair and pulled the boy forcefully from his seat. He settled Harry over his knee and then dropped a heavy hand across the upraised posterior.
Harry did his best to hold still. Vernon only hit harder if he resisted too much. To relieve a sore spot Harry wiggled a bit to present a slightly different target. After twenty solid blows Vernon set Harry back on his feet.
"That was just a taste of what's coming Friday. Now sit until we finish eating," Vernon commanded evilly, knowing that Harry's bottom would feel like it was on fire.
"Yes sir," Harry sniffled in reply. He pushed his chair back to where it belonged and leaned on the edge of the chair so it pressed just below the aggravated area.
Vernon noticed though and swiftly reprimanded him. "Sit down properly."
Harry delicately hoisted himself onto the chair. He leaned against the table and pushed himself up from the seat, locking his arms to take the pressure off his screaming rear end.
"He's holdin' himself up, Dad," Dudley pointed out as he started to pick at Harry's chicken pot pie. The boy wasn't that hungry but he couldn't pass on the opportunity to make his cousin as miserable as possible.
"Put your arse down in that chair, sit up straight and put your hands in your lap. Now!"
Harry winced as he slowly lowered himself onto the chair. After a minute his eyes began to tear up and his lower lip quivered. The pain was excruciating.
"Are you finished eating, Dudley?" Petunia asked politely, ignoring Harry's sweaty brow and the tears running from his puffy eyes.
"Not yet, Mum. Is the apple cobbler for desert?" Dudley smiled sweetly up at Petunia. He was nothing but sheer politeness and an overabundance of patience tonight. Normally he couldn't get away from the table fast enough to watch the telly.
Fifteen minutes later they finished eating. The Dursleys sat around the table chatting while Harry stiffly walked around clearing the plates. He scraped everything down the garbage disposal and didn't even try to nick a bite to eat. His bottom was so sore it had robbed him of his appetite.
Harry suffered the same ordeal every night until Friday. It was seven thirty when Uncle Vernon opened the cupboard door. He scowled down at Harry who looked back pitifully. The man beaconed with his hand and sneered, "Its time boy."
Harry uncoiled his tightly wound body and arthritically stood up. He wrapped his arms around himself and reluctantly shuffled to the door. Vernon's hand lashed out, viciously seizing him by the upper arm, and yanked him out of the cupboard.
Vernon took his time extracting his revenge. It was eight o'clock when Harry was finally tossed back in the cupboard. He barely managed to crawl onto his mattress. In the darkness Harry lost himself to the aches and sorrow of the brutal encounter. The door never opened again until seven Monday morning.
oOo
Remembering that weekend brought tears to Harry's eyes. He fearfully whispered, "what if they never let me out again?"
"Do you like it here with Bella?" Neville asked.
Harry nodded his head and quickly dried his eyes looking embarrassed. Someone finally likes me and I keep crying like a big baby, he thought to himself. In the deep recess of his mind a small voice whispered but Mrs Figg holds you and rocks you when you cry.
"Then I'll ask Gran to never make you go back again," Neville answered.
In an even lower whisper Harry asked, "What if Mrs Figg doesn't want me either?" His stomach lurched when he considered the possibility that she didn't like him as much as he liked her.
"Then you could stay with us. We have a really big manor," Neville stated.
"Kitchoo!" Harry sneezed. He threw a hand up to his face, blocking most of the flames. When he pulled his hand away there was a stringy gob of flaming snot running from Harry's nose to his hand.
"Ewwww," Neville laughed.
Arabella magically removed the black ring from the bathtub, dried the floor and picked up the towels after the boys. She shook her head in amusement.
It's nice to have someone in the house to clean up after and take care of again. I didn't realize how much I missed my sons and grandchildren, she thought as she finished cleaning up.
She paused on her way out of the bathroom to listen to the boys. It sounds like Neville, bless his little soul, is taking matters into his own hands, she thought and smiled at the budding friendship.
"Use a tissue, Harry! Don't you dare wipe that anywhere else," she warned the startled boy as she entered the room and saw Harry's hand.
Neville smiled and giggled at his friend.
"Yes ma'am," Harry replied in a thick, stuffed up voice. He stood up, holding his hand to his face so the mess didn't run all over the place, and looked around for something to blow his nose with.
"There's a box of tissues in the kitchen, Harry. Come with me."
Harry followed along obediently. "Choooo!" His nose crackled thickly, oozing even more snot into his hand.
"Oh dear, I'm probably going to need to get out the handkerchiefs for you and pick up some more tissues. Here let's just wash your hands and face," Arabella said leading him over to the sink.
"What're those?" Harry exclaimed looking at the toys on the table.
"You can have them in a minute after you get cleaned up." She summoned a chair over and transfigured it into a step stool so Harry could reach the faucet.
Harry washed the snotty mess from his hands with plenty of soap supplied by Arabella, then suffered in silent indignity as she washed his face.
"There, that's much better. Now give a good blow," she said holding a tissue to his nose.
Neville stood just inside the kitchen, watching.
"Those are wizard tops. I have some too. There are all kinds of games you can play," he said, looking at the toys on the table as Harry blew into the tissue.
Harry had had enough of Arabella fussing over him once he'd blown into the tissue and pulled away from the hand wiping his nose. He made his way over to the table and picked up one of the tops.
"How do you... kitchoo... play with them?" Harry asked, looking at Neville from the crook of his elbow that he'd used to sneeze into.
"I'll show you," Neville volunteered with a quirky smile.
The boys gathered all of the wizard tops together and crawled under the table. They divvied them up so they had three each.
"Now what?" Harry asked, examining one of the pieces that he held between his thumb and index finger. The toy was a cone shaped piece of wood with a peg centered on the flat side of the cone.
"Well, first you have to give them a spin. Like this," Neville instructed. He was sitting on his knees and leaned forward closer to the ground using his left arm to hold himself up. With the wooden peg held between the thumb and middle finger of his right hand Neville snapped his fingers. The top hit the floor, shooting green sparks, and started to spin. A green spiral of light flowed out making the top look like a miniature cyclone.
Harry tried clumsily to do as Neville showed him. "It's a bit tricky, isn't it?"
"It takes patience and practice. That's what Gran told me when I got mine," Neville replied, starting on his second one.
Neville had all three in motion by the time Harry called out triumphantly, "I got it!"
Harry's top spun along in a mundane fashion. There were no sparks or the accompanying colors like Neville's three tops. Neville's tops were still spinning brightly when Harry's slowly spun to a stop.
"How come mine doesn't work like that?" Harry asked a little disappointedly.
"Magic," Neville laughed.
Harry scowled and crossed his arms, "codswallop."
"No really. The more you want it to spin the faster and brighter it gets. Watch."
Neville moved his hand over one of the tops and stared at it intently. The other two tops lost momentum and slowed as the one top spun faster and faster. Soon the little green cyclone had grown in size and was starting to shoot sparks in addition to the wild swirl of color.
"Cool! Mrs Figg! Come see what Neville is doing," Harry called out in pride of his friend's accomplishment.
Arabella prowled silently into the room. Neither of the boys heard a sound as she entered and would never have noticed her if they hadn't seen her feet from under the kitchen table.
"Oh, that is nice Neville. Well done," she complimented the boy as she leaned down to take a look.
"Thank you, Bella," Neville answered shyly.
"Neville said it's…" Harry said clearly then whispered behind his hand, "…magic." He watched Mrs Figg nervously for her reaction.
Arabella nodded with encouragement. "And a fine bit of magic it is. Look at the bright green color as it spins and all of the sparks."
She waved her hand over Neville's top and the light turned blue. "I've always liked blue."
The boys looked up in amazement at her. "How did you do that?" Neville asked.
"Magic," she said and laughed.
Neville worked the process he'd just watched through his mind. With a great deal of effort the cyclone turned back to green.
"Well done, Neville," she praised.
She watched on in admiration for a minute as Neville continued to make the colors change before asking, "Are you two getting hungry yet? Would you like something to eat in about thirty minutes?"
"Yes please," they answered together a bit distractedly.
"Would you like to try, Harry?" Neville offered.
Harry scooted next to Neville so they were shoulder to shoulder and answered eagerly, "Please."
"It's easier to hold your hand over it at first. Just think about making it spin. The more you want it to spin the faster it goes," Neville instructed.
With a slightly trembling hand Harry reached towards the top. Spin. Spin. Spin.
Neville eased his magic away from the top letting Harry take control. The miniature cyclone diminished in size as it started to slow down.
"Come on, Harry, you can do it," Neville encouraged.
Arabella watched the boys playing beneath the table. The wooden top began to wobble as the momentum declined.
"Focus, Harry. The magic will respond to your desire. Let it flow from you to the top. Like pouring water from the palm of your hand," she instructed.
Harry closed his eyes and let the power trickle from his hand. The spinning top slowly began to accelerate. The swirling green color brightened and the cyclone formed once again.
"You're doing it, Harry! You're doing it!" Neville shouted excitedly. "Faster, make it go faster!"
Sparks shot out from the spinning vortex as it continued to grow. When the cyclone was about the same size it had been when Neville had relinquished control it began to spin about recklessly. It continued to spin faster and faster.
"Control it, Harry. Keep it steady," Arabella cautioned.
The spinning tornado weaved back and forth hazardously. It bumped into a chair leg, kicking the piece of furniture away from the table.
Neville backed away from the out of control top, pulling Harry with him.
"Let go of it, Harry!"
Power continued to pour from Harry as he cried, "I can't!"
One of the unused tops on the floor was swept up in the vortex and shot across the room, gouging a hole in the wall. It scooped up the other four, shooting them out like shrapnel. They ricocheted about the room. One grazed Neville's brow, another shattered the glass door of the china hutch and some of the plates it contained.
"Finite Incantatum!" Arabella spoke, pointing her wand at the wayward wizard top.
"Wow, Harry," Neville said in an awestruck voice after a second.
Harry just trembled in response, looking at the various dings, gouges, broken glass and plates scattered on the ground. He looked positively ill. No, oh no! What have I done? She'll send me back for sure.
His green tinged skin turned a shade darker. Harry's nerves got the better of him and he leaned away from Neville to violently expel the contents of his stomach.
Neville gave a sympathy gag and scooted on his bottom away from Harry's heaving body.
Arabella swiftly crouched down next to Harry. Her cool hand supported Harry's head as she gently rubbed his back.
"There, there, Harry. It's alright. Let it out," she soothed the distraught child.
His body was wracked with heaves and he trembled at her touch. Every time he thought about the damage in the kitchen his stomach raised up in him, discharging phlegm and partially digested food until there was nothing left.
"I'm sorry. Please. I'm so sorry. I'll clean it up," Harry begged between the dry heaves that still wracked his body.
Neville watched his friend helplessly, hoping Bella would take care of Harry.
Arabella drew her wand and incanted, "Scourgify." The spell cleaned the bile from the floor and his nightshirt. She waited a moment to make sure Harry could see that the mess was cleaned up before she picked him up and planted him on her hip.
"Are you watching, Harry?" She asked.
Harry gave a nervous hiccup and stifled his tears long enough to nod once against her shoulder.
Arabella whisked her wand, "Reparo." With the verbal component the dishes and glass door reassembled. A few more applications of the spell repaired the various dings and gouges around the kitchen.
She turned Harry on her hip to look him in the eye.
"There. It's all fixed."
Harry blinked his teary green eyes at her and licked his quivering lips. His hands continued to clench at her shirtsleeves nervously. With a waveirng voice Harry asked, "You're not mad?"
To his surprise Mrs Figg hugged him and kissed his cheek.
"Of course not."
He butted his head into Mrs Figg's shoulder and fiercely hugged her back. Harry cried into her shoulder so hard he shook in her arms. "Thank you," he sobbed.
Arabella rocked him in her arms, patting him on the back, waiting for the little boy to calm himself in his own time. She walked over to the sink and poured a small glass of water. "Rinse your mouth and spit it out." She commanded the little boy in her arms.
Harry complied, grateful to get the awful sour taste out of his mouth.
Neville watched silently from the floor. He smiled warmly up at Bella when she noticed him watching them.
Once Harry had calmed down she beckoned Neville to her.
"Let me see your battle wound Neville."
Neville smiled at the thought of having a new injury and happily jaunted over to her.
Harry was still securely attached to Mrs Figg's hip and peered down curiously at Neville when he heard that his friend was hurt. He looked at the trickle of blood on Neville's forehead.
"Let's go to the bathroom and clean that off. Then we can see how bad it is," Arabella said gently, putting her hand on the back of Neville's head and steering him to the bathroom.
She didn't attempt to put Harry down knowing that he would just resist her. It was getting easier for her to recognize Harry's needs and wants. Right now he needed to be comforted and she knew he preferred to be held. He absolutely relishes every touch. The damn Dursleys probably never laid a hand on Harry other than to hurt him.
Arabella wet a washcloth with her free hand and gently wiped the blood from Neville revealing a small cut over his eyebrow.
"Well, you were struck a mighty blow and kept your wits about you. That was very smart to back out of harms way and take Harry with you," she kindly praised Neville.
She remembered that Neville's father, Frank, had loved heroics as a child and absorbed every story about chivalrous champions. Apparently the interest was hereditary judging by the shine in Neville's eye and his broad smile.
"A healing balm will take care of it," she said pulling out a jar. With the deft expertise of a mother she shifted Harry's bottom onto her forearm so she could use both hands to open the container. She dipped her finger in and gently rubbed the lotion onto Neville's cut.
"Don't itch," she warned Neville.
By the time she put the balm back in the medicine cabinet the wound was healed.
oOo
Augusta was walking down Diagon Alley on her way back to the Leaky Cauldron when she happened upon Amelia Bones, head of the department of magical law enforcement. Amelia was apparently in a rush as she shot out of Slug & Jiggers Apothecary.
"Oh, excuse me," Amelia pardoned herself.
With a look of disbelief on her face Augusta found herself looking at the subject of conversation she'd had with Arabella that very morning before she'd set out on her errands.
A look of mild irritation crossed Amelia's face when she saw the other woman's expression.
With a quick recovery Augusta smiled at the younger woman.
"Amelia! You startled me. I was just talking about you this morning with an old friend. How have you been?"
Amelia chuckled and smiled back at Augusta. When Amelia was an Auror, Augusta had become her first staunch supporter. Her apprehensions had a higher conviction rate because Augusta believed in Amelia and would sway her fellow officials on Amelia's behalf. Later when Crouch stepped down from his position, Augusta had nominated Amelia as the new head of the DMLE.
"Busy. I needed to pick up a few things from the apothecary and thought I could make a quick trip during lunch. How about yourself?"
"The same. Neville is quite a handful. He is the spitting image of Frank and twice as ornery. It was a good thing I decided to make him my priority. I don't think I could manage Ministry duties and give him the attention he needs," August replied.
"I understand what you mean. My niece Susan is a delight but she certainly keeps me busy. I wish I could have done the same thing as you but someone has to keep everything in order," she said smiling.
"I always admired your dedication in everything you did, Amelia. I am sure you are more than up to the task of raising Susan. Maybe you and Susan should stop by for a visit soon. I left Neville with Arabella Figg this morning. She has a grandson in her home that has Dragon Pox," Augusta stated, planting the seed for Amelia's consideration.
"The poor dear. But why would you take Neville over? Oh, I see, you're deliberately exposing Neville to it."
Augusta nodded her head, pleased that the astute woman had so quickly come to the conclusion she wanted.
"It is better to have it now. I can take better care of him while he is at home. Definitely better than to catching it in his first year at Hogwarts like so many children do," Augusta explained.
"I was one of those children. It is a miserable way to begin Hogwarts. I was terribly home sick those first few months. Then I caught Dragon Pox and had to spend nearly two awful weeks in the infirmary." After thinking about it for a moment Amelia asked, "Do you think Arabella would mind if I brought Susan over?"
"Certainly not. It was her idea to have a pox party. I plan on making sure Neville catches it. He will be there the rest of the afternoon and we will visit again tomorrow. I think we are going to take turns watching the boys so we can still get a few things done for ourselves. Just two children is a meager party. Do you have time to drop Susan off this afternoon?" Augusta invited the woman.
"She is with the Abbots. I can floo over and pick her up."
"I'll just go back to Arabella's and let her know you are coming over."
Utilizing the convenience of the floo network the women parted ways at the Leaky Cauldron. Not only did the floo allow communication between fireplaces, it was also the most common mode of transportation. Most homes and nearly all business districts had anti-apparation wards. Not to mention the fact that anyone under the age of sixteen was not permitted to apparate until they were certified to do so. Very few magical folk were powerful enough to apparate more than twenty miles or without being familiar with the destination. With the floo network you only needed a pinch of floo powder and the name of where you wanted to go.
Arabella unlocked the floo to admit Augusta when she called.
"So how did it go?" Arabella asked her friend as she stepped out of the fireplace.
Augusta smiled confidently at her friend.
"Better than you can possibly imagine. You remember our conversation regarding Director Bones?"
"I'm not senile, of course I do," Arabella answered a little irritably. "Do you think we need to contact her?"
"I met her in Diagon Alley. She is on her way over with her niece, Susan. Evidently, Amelia was unfortunate enough to catch the pox in her first year at Hogwarts. It is an experience she does not want Susan to have. I told her one of your visiting grandsons was in a contagious stage and Neville was already here."
"By Merlin's beard! That was a lucky encounter. Should we introduce her to Harry? Will she have the time to hear us out?" Arabella rattled off questions a little panicky as she began to pace.
"Arabella! Calm down. Amelia is a busy woman. If she discovers his identity when she drops off Susan, we will make her take the time to listen. Otherwise we will discuss this with her tonight when she picks her niece up."
Arabella stopped pacing and took a deep breath.
"We knew this was coming. Everything is going according to plan so far," she replied more to herself than Augusta.
"It is better than I had hoped for, Arabella," Augusta agreed.
"Will you wake the boys while I wait for Director Bones' call?"
"Neville is sleeping? How did you manage that? I have to struggle with him at home and here he is on unfamiliar ground with another boy to play with," Augusta replied, shaking her head in wonder.
"I think they just wanted to be together and Harry needed the rest. It's been about half an hour now. They're in Harry's room," Arabella answered.
Augusta smiled as she turned to get the boys. So it's Harry's room now. Now we just have to fight to keep it that way. May Merlin have mercy on who ever stands in our way for we shall not.
She walked into Harry's room and looked down at the two boys sleeping side by side beneath a light quilt. The long white haired Kneazle was lying between them. Augusta noted the black hand mark had been removed. They look at peace. It is a shame to wake them. Amelia will be curious about the boys though.
Once Augusta was seated on the side of the bed she reached over and cupped Neville's cheek tenderly. Weaving her other hand through his hair she called his name softly, "Neville."
The boy stirred beneath her touch and stretched his arms behind his head. "Gran," he smiled.
"It's time to get up. We have another guest arriving for you and Harry to play with."
"Really! We've had so much fun. Harry shot flaming snot from his nose!"
"Neville! That is hardly the way for a gentleman to talk," Augusta reprimanded him quietly mindful of Harry.
"Well he did," Neville answered in a quiet but rebellious voice. He looked at his friend sleeping beside him. Then looked at Augusta very seriously. "I have to tell you something."
"What dear?" Augusta asked with concern. Neville was normally high spirited and happy. The somber change of attitude worried her.
He glanced cautiously at Harry to make sure he was still asleep.
"Harry's aunt and uncle are mean to him. They put him away and his uncle hits him. He doesn't want to go back. Harry's afraid they will lock him up and forget about him. Please don't let him go back."
"Doctor Henderson told Arabella and me that Harry was abused," she replied. Seeing the question on his face she further explained, "The welts and bruises on Harry are forms of abuse Neville. Nobody should ever treat a child like that. We suspected his relatives were responsible but we did not know for sure. Harry refused to say anything about it."
"Well, he told me," Neville said proudly, "but Harry didn't want me to tell anyone else."
"Did Harry say why?"
"Yeah," Neville started to say.
"Yes, Neville. Speak properly please," Augusta corrected.
"Yes Ma'am. Harry told a teacher once and his relatives were asked to pick him up from the school. There was an old guy with a long white beard with them but nothing happened. The school people never said anything about it again. After that, his relatives acted like Harry wasn't even around sometimes. They locked him in the cupboard for a really long time."
Augusta's eyes glittered vindictively.
"An old gentlemen with a long white beard," she repeated to herself in a rich timbre. Albus you have been busy. You should know better than to magically erase memories and influence people, especially Muggles.
Neville looked at his Gran with some alarm. He recognized that tone of voice, which always heralded great regret when it was directed at him.
Seeing Neville's nervousness she smiled at him comfortingly.
"Did Harry say anything else?"
With a sigh of relief he realized his Gran was not angry with him.
"No, but I think he really likes Bella. I think she likes him too. I told him that you wouldn't make him go back. He's afraid Bella won't want him though." He looked at Augusta precariously but continued on bravely, "I said that he could stay with us at the Longbottom Manor, if she doesn't want him. I think that Bella really really likes him though."
"You are right, Neville. Arabella does like Harry a great deal. We have discussed Harry's circumstances and neither Arabella nor I will give Harry back."
Neville scrambled into her lap and gave her a hug.
"I told Harry you would stop them. I just knew you would."
Her heart warmed with Neville's pronouncement and utter confidence that she would take care of his new friend. Augusta kissed his head and set him on the floor.
"Go see if the guests have arrived. Let Arabella know that Harry and I will be out in a minute."
Neville ran from the room and dropped to his knees, sliding across the hard wood floor mimicking what Harry had done earlier that morning. Augusta was about to scold him for it but restrained herself when she thought of Harry still soundly sleeping beside her.
Augusta turned back to Harry and placed the palm of her hand on his chest. She swirled her hand in circles to gradually alert him to her presence. Her hand moved up to his shoulder to gently shake him.
"Harry," she whispered to the slumbering boy.
She gently shook him again. Suddenly his eyes shot open and Harry hectically pushed himself back against the headboard. His knees curled to his chest and he locked his arms around his legs in a defensive position.
Sensing Harry's fright, the white Kneazle leapt up defensively between Augusta and Harry to furiously spit her displeasure and warn Augusta away. The protective cat arched her back to appear much larger and aggressive uttering a deep-throated growl until Augusta stood up and backed away.
Augusta looked at Harry with pity. Children should not go from a sound sleep to a terrified posture of defense. I can hardly wait to meet his relatives, if Arabella leaves anything of them that is.
Over the Kneazle's angry protests Augusta called out to the little black haired boy. "Harry, it's Augusta Longbottom. Neville's Gran. Look at me, Harry," she called in a rich calming voice.
It took a moment for Harry to get his bearings. He blinked his eyes sleepily and then squinted at the woman before him.
"Hi," he answered shyly. In a nervous gesture he started to rub the soft, silk nightshirt up and down his shins.
Snowy stopped growling at Augusta but still would not budge from between them.
The noble madam peered at the cat with appreciation. I am going to ask Arabella for a kitten from one of her litters as soon as I think Neville can bond with a familiar. Neville seems to like them and they are completely loyal to a fault.
"Harry, Arabella and Neville are waiting for us. There are some guests we would like you to meet. Will you come out to see them?"
"Where's Mrs Figg?" Harry asked in a needy little voice.
"She is waiting for the guests to arrive. Let's put on your glasses first and then go see Arabella," she said, stepping over to the nightstand and handed him his lenses.
Harry shoved them onto his face and grinned timidly at her.
"Thank you, Madam Longbottom." The boy scooted to the edge of the bed, swung his legs over the side and slid onto the floor.
Augusta patted Harry on the shoulder and guided him out the door ahead of her. As they approached the parlor Harry could hear unfamiliar voices and slowed down in response. He gradually drifted behind her and slipped out from under her arm to follow the grand woman. She felt Harry's small hand catch the sash of her dress.
When they reached the parlor she stood in the entry, allowing Harry to peer out timidly from behind her. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth when she realized that Harry was letting her assume the role of his protector.
Now I see why Arabella is so adamant about taking him in. He is a precious boy. Arabella is already devoted to him and Neville is quickly becoming a steadfast supporter. And now I feel myself following their lead. It isn't that surprising. His parents knew no strangers and were well liked by nearly everyone. The only rivalry I heard of was between James and Professor Severus Snape. It was a tragic surprise when Sirius betrayed them.
She was a little surprised to see a larger group of people around the fireplace than she had expected. Amelia Bones stood next to another lady whom she assumed to be Mrs Abbot. There were two girls standing side by side shyly watching Neville. The Kneazles were winding about the visitors busily inspecting them. The little girls made appreciative noises of the beautiful cats and giggled as they sniffed. Amelia is probably the only one that knows the cats are scrutinizing them. From the look on her face it appears that she is aware of the wand Arabella has pointed in their direction.
"Director Bones," Augusta greeted.
"Madam Longbottom," Amelia replied.
"We were just making a round of introductions," Arabella said. "This is Lorraine Abbot and her daughter Hannah. This is Susan Bones." She gestured to each of them in turn as they were introduced. Lorraine stepped towards Augusta, extending her hand in a friendly greeting.
"It's nice to meet you, Ma'am."
Augusta felt Harry brush against the back of her dress as he retreated further behind her.
She accepted the greeting in kind and gracefully shook the younger woman's hand.
"Like wise, Lorraine."
Since she had never met any of the Longbottoms before Lorraine asked, "Is that your grandson?" A warm friendly smile spread across her face as she leaned over a bit to peer around at the timid little boy.
"I won't bite, sweetie. What's your name?" She asked as gently as she could.
"Harry Potter Mrs." Harry's soft voice replied to the nice lady.
As quiet as his voice was it captured the attention of everyone in the room. All eyes turned to him. Amelia and Lorraine paused to make certain they had heard correctly. The girls started to twitter excitedly. Even Neville looked at his new friend curiously.
"Oh," Lorraine answered in a startled tone.
Harry was now directly behind Augusta. His little hands trembled at the thought of everyone looking at him. Having everyone's attention on him never bode well for Harry and he wanted nothing more than to hide.
Augusta turned slightly and put her hand on Harry's shoulder, pulling him closer. Harry buried his face in her side and held onto her waist, welcoming the shelter Augusta offered him.
"Perhaps the two of you should stay for tea," Augusta said in a politely phrased command.
"Yes. I think that would be a good idea," Amelia replied conservatively.
Suddenly, Harry's black head jerked away from Augusta. His face scrunched up and he wiggled his nose before releasing a loud, "KACHOO!" Flames shot from his mouth and startled everyone.
Before Arabella could stop Harry, he reached up and dragged a sleeve across his runny nose. She crossed the room and handed him one of the handkerchiefs she had dug out while he was resting.
"Blow," she said, holding the handkerchief to his face.
Harry's nose rumbled in response as he shyly watched all of the strangers in the room. One of the girls giggled at him and his cheeks went rosey.
"Again," Arabella said, moving the handkerchief to a clean spot. A quick cleaning charm removed the mucus. She tucked the handkerchief into his sleeve. "Use that instead of your sleeve please."
Harry nodded his head in silent consent. He hung his head to study the floor, ignoring the people who were staring at him. One of Harry's hands snuck its way into Arabella's.
Feeling his little hand shake Arabella picked him up and held him. Harry rested his head on her shoulder and promptly fastened one hand on the collar of her shirt. He peeked out from under his fringe to look at the strangers.
"Willow," Augusta called.
There was a 'pop!' in the room as air quickly redistributed around the house elf that just materialized.
Harry gave a startled little jump in Arabella's arms at the sudden appearance of the long eared, tiny figure.
"Yes, Madam?" the diminutive creature replied.
"Tea and biscuits please," Augusta requested.
"As you wish Madam," Willow replied and bowed before vanishing to complete her task.
"Neville, young ladies would you follow me to the kitchen please," Augusta said, leading all of the children except Harry out of the parlor.
Arabella gestured to the seats in the parlor as Augusta and the other children left.
"Please make yourselves comfortable." She invited, before taking a seat in one of the wooden rockers and sitting Harry on her lap. Seeing the women continue to peer at Harry she turned his chin up and parted his hair to show the lightning bolt shaped scar.
Harry fidgeted under the intrusive stares and turned his back to them.
Satisfied that it was indeed Harry Potter sitting in Arabella's lap the other women pried their attention away from the bashful boy.
"How is the department these days, Director Bones?" Arabella asked, starting a conversation to fill the awkward silence.
oOo
They had just made it to the kitchen when the children exploded with excitement.
"Is that really Harry Potter?" The little blond haired girl with pigtails asked in a high-pitched, anxious voice. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet in front of Augusta, eagerly waiting for an answer.
"Yes. He is. Now I want the three of you to listen to me. Harry has been raised by his muggle relatives," Augusta started to say.
Several 'ohs' and 'ahs' were uttered, interrupting Augusta. Neville made an angry face at the mention of Harry's relatives.
"Now let me finish. He does not know anything about how the Dark Lord was banished. Nor does he know what happened to his parents. So I ask each of you not to say anything about it to him. Just play with Harry like you would anyone else. Can you do that?" She finished, looking steadily at the children. They were only six. Chances are it wasn't going to do a bit of good but she had to try.
The three kids chorused together, "Yes."
"Thank you. Harry will be out to play shortly," Augusta thanked them and returned to the parlor.
Augusta found Harry sitting in Arabella's lap ignoring everyone in the room. His hand was busy twisting Arabella's collar. Augusta stepped up to them and gently placed her hand on Harry's back.
"Would you like to go and play with Neville and the girls?" She asked him kindly.
Harry's hand stopped and he turned to nod his head at Augusta. He climbed down from Arabella's lap and reached out to hold Augusta's hand to her surprise.
She looked down to gaze into his worried green eyes, remembering her conversation from the day before when Harry had pitifully stated that he would understand if Neville didn't want to play him.
Although Neville and Harry seem to be getting along quite well he's nervous about the girls. He obviously doesn't handle undue attention well and is afraid that the girls won't like him. I hope the children do as I asked and are just willing to play with him.
"I will be right back," Augusta apologized to the women whom smiled understandingly at her. Their eyes crept down to watch Harry shrink into her side and out of their sight.
Frank always said James had every girl in the school at his beck and call, including the professors. Even the stern Professor McGonagall had a soft spot for him. Harry is a very cute little boy now that he has been cleaned up and his shy demeanor is only attracting more attention. Merlin help us all if he figures this out.
"That unruly mop of black hair is adorable and those charming green eyes," Lorraine cooed as they walked out of the room. She itched to pick him up but could tell that would not be welcomed by the tiny boy.
"Yes, they are a beautiful shade of green. If he will look at you long enough for you to see them," Director Bones agreed with a smile as she fixed the cup of tea to her liking.
When everyone had settled in, Arabella requested Lorraine to refrain from telling anyone that she had seen Harry Potter. Lorraine complied with the perfectly reasonable request in complete understanding. Arabella made no such request of Director Bones, whom she trusted to be discreet and would do what was required of her position. Arabella fell into her old role as an Auror and gave a complete briefing including the doctor's report.
The only sound that could be heard when Arabella finished speaking was the children playing in the other room.
Lorraine shook her head sadly at what she had learned.
"I will make sure Hannah understands that we cannot tell anyone that we have seen Harry. If you need someone to watch Harry while you take care of things, let me know. I wish I could be of greater help."
"Thank you, Lorraine. I appreciate the offer. It may be necessary for me to take you up on that," Arabella replied sincerely.
"Can you have Dr Henderson send his abuse report to my home instead of the DMLE?" Amelia asked after a moment of consideration. "I do not want this to go through office mail. Arabella, try to have your child advocate application rushed. Harry is obviously comfortable with you and as a former Auror you are better prepared to care for his safety than a civilian. We should move you and Harry to a more secure location in the next few days. An old estate with appropriate warding would be preferred," Amelia said looking at Augusta pointedly.
"Neville will be overjoyed if you came to stay. I will have the house elves clean the guest house for you and Harry," Augusta answered, nodding in agreement.
"I would like to take a few pictures of Harry to add to the doctor's report. Too much evidence is preferable to not enough. This will help with the muggle courts as well. They are even more reliant on pictures than our courts," Amelia said. She reached into her purse and pulled out a miniature Polaroid instant camera.
"We'll take Harry to his room for the pictures," Arabella said standing up. This may not go over well with Harry after this morning. The doctor pressing him for details about his injuries and now we want to take pictures of him. It has been a rough twenty four hours for the poor boy.
She led Director Bones to the kitchen where they found the children sitting at the table playing a game of memory with their tea and biscuits.
"Harry, can we see you for a little bit in your room please?"
Harry's happy little face while playing dimmed to a guarded expression.
"Now? Can't I finish?" Harry rebutted.
"Director Bones has many things she needs to do today. It would not be considerate of us to keep her waiting," Arabella explained patiently.
"Alright," Harry answered reluctantly and stood up. He walked over to Arabella's side, standing as close to her as possible but did not take her hand or lead the way to his room.
She put a hand around his shoulders and gave him a comforting squeeze. His tiny frame leaned into her but she still had to give him a gentle push towards the bedroom. Arabella had to keep a hand on his back to keep him moving along.
What do they want? I don't want to talk about that stuff anymore. It's not fair. If Neville would have kept his stupid mouth shut. Harry cringed at the last thought about his friend. He looked back over his shoulder guiltily at Neville.
In short order they were in Harry's room and the door shut firmly behind them.
"Alright, Harry. I want to take a few pictures. Could you stand right over here against this wall for me please," Amelia said, taking command of the situation.
Harry slowly complied.
"Now face me and look up. Good." The camera flashed brightly and a picture spewed out the bottom. She looked at the picture to check the quality.
"Take off your nightshirt," Amelia commanded in a firm voice.
Harry's heart plummeted right down to the ground and a chill crawled up his spine. He turned to Arabella with a desperate look.
"Mrs Figg, please no."
Arabella's heart wrenched when she replied, "Do as the Director tells you, Harry."
The hurt look on Harry's face was almost too much for her.
"Now Harry. It will be much faster if you cooperate. Then you can go back and play."
"I don't want to play anymore. I don't want all these people here. It's all Neville's fault. He's a stupid ol' tattletale. Why can't it just be us like yesterday?"
"Harry this is for your own good. We are trying to take care of you. Please let us," Arabella tried to reason.
"Why now? You knew... You knew they hit me. I told you once too, just like the teacher at school. Both of you knew and nothin' was done 'bout it," Harry angrily accused.
Arabella was startled at the revelation. Her throat caught and her lips worked without sound. That old bastard will pay for altering my mind and what he has done to Harry.
"I thought this time might be different. Jus' send me back to the Dursleys," Harry said dully.
It couldn't have hurt more if Harry would have hexed her.
Whatever it takes to get you away from the Dursleys, Harry, whatever it takes. I am the adult here and we will do what is necessary, Arabella thought reassuringly to herself.
Amelia stepped forward and pulled out a badge.
Harry backed into the wall and flashed frightened looks from the badge to Director Bones.
"Absolutely not young man. You will stay here with Mrs Figg until you are otherwise notified. I don't think you realize who I am or what is going on. Mrs Figg has contacted a metaphysician on your behalf. It was determined by Dr Henderson that you have been mistreated at home. He has filed a report with the Ministry of Magic. Now I am here to acquire further proof of your abuse. I am a representative of the law and you will do as you are told," Amelia Bones barked at Harry.
"Yes Ma'am," Harry complied. He vigorously nodded his head rattling his glasses to further convey his sincerity.
Harry took off the nightshirt but held it in front of him in an effort to preserve a little modesty before the camera. He trembled nervously in front of Director Bones as she looked him over.
"What are the lines on his chest?" Amelia asked as her eyes followed the faded gray lines around his torso.
"Harry and Neville decided to play connect the dots," Arabella said ruffling Harry's head.
"I won," Harry muttered.
A short sharp laugh escaped from Amelia. She couldn't help herself when the sullen little boy claimed victory.
Harry flipped the nightshirt back over his head as soon as Amelia said she was done. He slipped away from Arabella's touch and out to the parlor without a word to anyone. Instead of joining the other children he curled up at the end of the couch and tucked his legs up under his nightshirt, ignoring everyone as he crossed his arms over his knees.
Amelia watched him retreat with sad eyes. "He has had a hard life hasn't he?"
"From what I can remember yes," Arabella replied stoically.
"Harry said that he told you that his relatives hit him," Amelia prompted.
"I honestly don't remember that. There are more memories that I believe are missing. Dr Henderson has scheduled an appointment at St Mungos to check for memory alterations," Arabella admitted.
Amelia thumbed through the pictures one more time. Harry's sad face looking up at her clutching the nightshirt to his shrunken waist was a tearjerker. The various injuries assaulting his backside would enrage any decent person. She smiled grimly pleased with the pictures.
Any parent would be ready to lynch the person responsible for these heinous wounds. The Dursleys may have to be put into protective custody over this, Amelia thought to herself.
oOo
Dr. Henderson's secretary rounded up the paperwork sealing various scrolls in a hurry to depart for the day. The school play started in half an hour and she wanted to have a good seat to see her son's debut on the stage. Without a second thought she attached the child endangerment form to the owl and sent it on its way despite the note with instructions to mail it at the end of the business day.
A mail clerk at the Ministry of Magic quickly screened the incoming correspondence from the owl post to determine where to send it. She stopped momentarily to peruse a domestic abuse report filed from the office of Dr Henderson. The name of the victim had been suppressed by an obfuscation charm.
The woman discreetly pulled out a bifocal magnifying glass that had been charmed to see through illusions and reveal invisible script.
Harry James Potter! That's galleons in the pouch for me.
She leaned forward over the parchment peering about the busy office from the corner of her eyes before quickly casting a copy charm. She then rolled the parchment up and stuck it in her bag.
The original paperwork was processed moments later and placed at the bottom of the pile directed to the department of magical law enforcement. The clerk stood up and glanced at the clock on the wall. "Well, time for lunch. I don't think I can wait a moment longer today," she announced to no one in particular on her way out.
Thank you for reading the chapter. Please take a minute to leave a review. All comments are welcome.