Chapter 4

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was having a bad day. The myriad, intricate devices that he used to monitor Harry Potter's whereabouts and wellbeing had simply stopped. Some of these gizmos wouldn't stop if the boy were dead. Everything stopping was basically saying that Harry simply didn't exist. In fact, you could argue, from the sheer lack of activity, that Harry Potter had never existed.

Most likely there was a disturbance in the aether, sunspot activity or atmospheric phenomena. If it didn't clear up in the next few days, Dumbledore would take a little trip to Privet Drive.

Meanwhile, he was the Magical Guardian of someone who, one, had a trust vault at Gringotts and, two, apparently didn't exist. There was no reason to not completely empty the boy's vault and add it's contents to his own.

Dumbledore did not and would not condone thievery. He didn't see this as stealing, but simply making use of a strategic asset to which he was entitled, that he could use, for the greater good, of course…

)O(

"What do you mean 'Access Denied,' I'm Mister Potter's Magical Guardian and I say I need funds for his upkeep, his well-being, his primary school education."

The human employee, a mere lackey who was the liaison between working goblins and human mages, pinched the bridge of his nose and repeated, "Certain inconsistencies have been noted in transactions and deductions from the Potter Trust vault. As Master Potter's Magical Guardian, you have the right to remove every knut from his vault, but you must account for the funds, demonstrating, beyond the hint of reproach, that any and all moneys from the trust do, indeed, benefit young Master Potter."

"You have my assurances, as Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards that all funds withdrawn directly benefit young Mister Potter."

"Fine, Headmaster. Just swear on your magic and your life and I'll get you the key."

Pause.

"Whenever you're ready, Headmaster."

Longer pause.

"Surely the word of the Chief Warlock will suffice."

The man let out an exasperated sigh. "The Goblin Seneck told me you'd say that."

"And?"

"He said as soon as you say those exact words that all the Potter vaults would be locked down, pending completion of the audit of every single transaction and holding down to the last knut."

"But, but that could take… Years!"

"Six years, eleven months, twenty-nine days."

"I shall protest with every resource at my disposal."

"The Seneck said you'd say that too."

The Chief Warlock felt ice forming in the pit of his stomach, "And?"

"And, he said, and I quote, "It may be necessary to audit the Headmaster's accounts as well." Unquote."

Without another word, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore turned on his heel and left the office, the bank and Diagon Alley.

Back in the bank office, the accounts manager reached up his arm and removed the changeling bracelet, one of only three known to exist, and reverted back to his base form, that of the Goblin Seneck.

He smiled a rare, toothy smile.

"By the unspoken Name of The Matriarch, may you be reborn a deformed goblin of the slave sub-class."

)O(

Xenophilius Lovegood woke to the wonderful smell of breakfast. Throwing on a dressing gown he all but ran down the spiral stair to see Harry in the kitchen tending bacon, fried potatoes and eggs while tea steeped and coffee brewed.

It was exactly the scene that greeted him the first morning Harry had graced their humble tower.

)O(

Flashback: Morning of Harry's first full day with the Lovegoods.

"Good morning, Harry."

"Good morning, Mister Lovegood. I wasn't sure if you took coffee or tea, so I made both."

Luna came down the stair in her dressing gown, rubbing sleep from her eyes, "Daddy? You made breakfast?"

"No, Pumpkin, Harry did."

"Oh, this will be good then, he makes a marvelous tea!"

Xeno and Luna sat at the kitchen table as Harry served the meal.

Luna beckoned her favorite chef, "Sit with us Harry, this is your home now."

As before, he sat, unsure if he were really allowed to sit at the table. What if someone needed more food, or a refill on their coffee or tea?

Father and daughter held hands, then each took one of Harry's hands in their own.

Luna lowered her head and said,

"Lord and Lady,
We give You thanks for this food.
Please, bless those who were instrumental
in bringing it to our table.
Grant that it will go for the health and
well-being of our bodies.
Blessed Be."

Xenophilius added, "And thank you, Harry, for preparing this wonderful meal for us."

Something caught in Harry's throat, and he ran from the kitchen, sobbing.

Xeno sat there, shocked, "Did I say something wrong?"

Luna shook her head, "No, Daddy. I'll go see what's wrong."

He floo called Healer Marissa Sessions as Luna went in search of Harry.

She found him on the couch that he'd slept on the previous night. Later that day they were going to prepare him a proper bedroom.

Luna sat beside Harry, took his hand in both of hers and asked, "What's wrong?"

"I. I don't know. It's just, you're so nice to me and you said 'thank you,' and no one has ever, ever said thank you to me and I can't stop crying and I never cry because crying means you're weak and that they've won and, and…"

Xeno and Marissa, listening from the doorway into the kitchen came in and sat on the opposite side from Luna.

"Harry, son, there is a very special pit in Hell for people who would murder hope and happiness in a child, especially a wonderful boy like you."

The Lovegoods enfolded Harry into a three-way hug and let him cry himself out.

Marissa said, "I wondered when this would happen. Harry's been forced to keep his emotions in check, to the point where he couldn't really express his anger or grief or despair. Let me guess, something simple, trivial maybe, set him off this morning?"

Luna nodded, "We thanked him for making breakfast."

"Gratitude is one of the most powerful emotions."

Xeno held Harry close, "Go ahead, son, let it out. Crying doesn't mean you're weak, it means you can feel, and it will help you heal."

After an age Harry stopped crying, and just luxuriated in the warmth and love of his newfound family.

Then his eyes flew open, "Oh! Oh no!"

"What is it?"

"Breakfast is all cold now, the eggs and the bacon and the coffee and tea and…"

"Not to worry, son. That's what warming charms are for."

Luna helped him up off the couch, "Come on, I'll show you how."

They re-heated and finished breakfast, talked about the village and the other magical families in the area and made plans to furnish Harry's room.

"Um, Harry?"

"Yes, Mister Lovegood."

"Xeno, Harry. Please call me Xeno."

"Yes, Xeno?"

"How did you start the stove?"

"It's a wood stove, sir. My Uncle Vernon has a sister with a wood stove and I have cooked on it a few times."

"So you've been up for hours already."

"About two hours, sir. Is that alright?"

"Of course, but you don't have to get up early everyday and cook and clean for us. We all do for each other in this house. For instance, Luna and I take turns cooking. If Luna cooks, I clean up and vice versa. I take care of the lawn, but we both tend the gardens. You see? We share the chores around here."

"That's going to take some getting used to, Mist, um, I mean, Xeno. Back at Private Drive, I did, well, everything."

Luna put her hand on top of his, making him smile as he always did when she touched him, "You don't live there anymore."

"No, I don't. You know, I may have lived there, but I never ever thought of it as home. And now I never will."

At that precise moment, in Little Whinging, powerful wards that had been keeping Number Four Privet Drive anonymous came crashing down.

The Goblin Seneck received notice that another Potter property had come to light. By half five, the three Dursleys found themselves on the kerb with only the clothes on their backs as they were evicted from the home where they had lived, rent-free, for the better part of ten years. All their assets and accounts were frozen, pending a thorough audit. Grunnings, reeled from a barrage of bank audits that implied malfeasance on the part of their director of sales, a certain Dursley, by name. The company suspended Vernon without pay. The Grunnings employee, a man that had been junior to Vernon the day before, took his beloved company car with a feral smile, saying, "Just until this mess is all worked out."

The folks at number six were kind enough to let Vernon pay for a phone call to his sister, Marge, who was less than pleased to take in her 'poor relations.'

One of the workers who had been hired to prep the house for sale noticed the cupboard under the stairs. Memories of his own upbringing, years of suffering abuse and neglect, came rushing back. He called 999.

Constable Mary Wright was large for a woman, hell, she was large for a man, nearly six feet tall and well muscled. For all that she had a kind face. Her partner, Martin Brothers, was a soft-spoken man who happened to be a martial arts expert. His hand to hand skills were a local legend. Martin ran the local Judo club, and Mary was one of his most enthusiastic members.

Whenever cases of child abuse were suspected, the Chief Inspector always called on "Mary and Martin." And so it was that the two constables interviewed the Dursley's neighbors, teachers, and fellow students.

"Yes, there was a young boy, maybe seven or eight. Tiny little thing. Harry something or other. Worked him like a slave that family did. Imagine a seven year old boy, pushing a lawnmower in the heat of the day. No, never saw that Dudley child do any chores."

"Where is the boy now?"

"Dunno."

If Marge Dursley was unhappy with her 'deadbeat' brother and his useless wife and son before, she was positively livid as the two uniformed officers interviewed them all, including herself, Marge Dursley. Marge Dursley, pillar of the kennel club, who had never, ever been touched by scandal!

"So what if that ungrateful son of a bitch ran off, who cares?"

"How long has Harry been missing?"

"Dunno, few days maybe, not really sure."

"Why didn't you report him missing immediately?"

"Why should I?"

Constable Brothers put a restraining hand on Constable Wright's shoulder. If anyone in the room was paying attention, they would have known that mayhem was moments away.

"Do you have any recent photos of your nephew?"

"Why would we waste the film?"

"That's done it!"

Constable Brothers didn't bother to restrain his partner, but he did take the time to ask, "And what are you doing?"

"Me?" she asked, sweetly, "I ain't doing nothing, this lot, though, is resistin' arrest, ain't they?"

The three adult Dursleys made it to the police station alive, but were somewhat worse for the wear.

Their killer-whale of a child was packed off to children's services. That department immediately put him on a strict diet for the grossly obese.

The only picture that made it to the Surrey Herald was a grainy, school photo from two years before.

Harry Potter, age 10. Missing. Feared dead.

Arabella Figg picked up her paper, red the small blurb at the bottom of page one and fainted.

In the Headmaster's office, in Hogwarts, alarms sounded and whistles blew as the one working Potter tracking device, a ward detector, exploded.

Pity the Headmaster wasn't present to witness his last link with Harry Potter go ka-blooie!

)O(

The post owl was interesting. Harry had never seen an owl up close and personal before, and this one was carrying a large envelope in his talons.

Harry looked at the owl and asked, "Do you want me to take that?"

With an exasperated roll of the eyes, the owl nodded.

As soon as Harry grasped the envelope the bird flew off.

"Thank you." He said to the retreating tail feathers.

The envelope was addressed to his alter ego, Harold Evans.

"First letter I've ever received in my life and it's addressed to someone else, delivered by a surly bird."

He opened it to see what Healer Sessions, no, Marissa, had sent.

It was everything he needed to establish his new identity, birth certificate, school records, the works.

Harry shared the contents of the envelope with his family.

Xeno smiled, "Sometime this summer you should receive your Hogwarts letter."

)O(

Capturing the images of the hither-to-unproven snorkack was a huge boost for the Quibbler. Circulation was at an all time high. This prompted Xenophilius to go in search of even more obscure animals. Luna and Harry loved to go on these expeditions, unfortunately, not all sojourns were kid-friendly. The elusive demiguese-sloth was rumored to be somewhere deep in the Amazon rain forest, and Xeno was keen to go. He'd be gone the first two weeks in February.

Xenophilius kissed his daughter and gave Harry a manly hug, "You'll be at the Weasleys for two weeks. Ron is the same age as Harry, so they should get along, and you are already good friends with Ginny."

)O(

Mrs Weasley pulled Luna into an all encompassing hug, then gave Harry a polite squeeze on the shoulders and asked, "Now, who do we have here?"

"Harold, ma'am, Harold Evans, but everyone calls me Harry. The Lovegoods were good friends to my cousin Lily Evans."

"As were we, Dear. A tragic loss that. Bad times, those were bad times. But, life goes on and here we are, welcome, Harry, welcome."

Ginny Weasley came in and said, "Harry? Harry who?"

"Harry Evans, dear."

Ginny looked disappointed, "Oh, hi."

Luna smiled mischievously, "Ginny swears she's going to marry Harry Potter."

"Well, I am. Just you wait and see."

"I guess I'll just have to settle for boring old Harry Evans."

"Oi!"

That was when Ron came galumphing down the stair, "Is it lunchtime yet?"

"In an hour, Dear, come meet our new friend, Harry."

"Harry?"

Ginny piped up, "Harry Evans."

"Blimey, another ginger! Do you play chess?"

"Never have."

Ron looked crestfallen until Harry added, "But I'm keen to learn."

Molly stopped their leaving, "Chickens first, then you can play."

"But, Mum!"

Harry asked, "Can I help?"

Molly and Ron were both impressed, Molly because her youngest son never volunteered for anything, and Ron because he could see his chores reduced by at least half.

"Come on, then. I'll show you."

The Weasley's raised chickens for eggs and goats for milk and cheese to supplement Mister Weasley's civil servant salary.

The girls gathered eggs while the boys cleaned the coops and put out feed.

"After lunch we need to tend to the goats then we can have all afternoon to play."

Molly called the children in for lunch.

Harry had never seen a human being put down as much food as Ron Weasley. And he'd lived with the Dursleys.

Luna leaned in his direction and whispered, "Ronald has five older brothers, so he eats as much as he can, as often as he can so that he doesn't go hungry."

Harry shook his head in disbelief, "But none of his older brothers are even here."

To which she shrugged, "Old habits die hard, I guess."

Milking the goats was the strangest thing Harry had ever done.

Grab, encircle the teat, push up, squeeze, pull down and…

Nothing.

Meanwhile, Ginny and Luna are making the bottom of their milk-pails sing as stream after stream of creamy milk flowed seeming effortlessly.

Ron shrugged, "I can't get it as good as Mum and Ginny. My brother Bill says it's great having a girlfriend that can milk a goat, and then he laughs like crazy."

Harry looked perplexed, "I don't get it."

Ron shook his head, "Me neither, let's have a game of chess."

Ron really was good at chess. He showed Harry how all the pieces move, then played two 'exhibition' games, by sitting one side, moving, then getting up to stand behind Harry to direct his moves.

"It takes maybe ten minutes to learn how the pieces move, but a lifetime to get really good at it."

Molly called the girls to help with dinner, and Harry was right there.

"What can I do for you, Dear?"

Luna explained, "Harry is a good cook, and he likes to learn new recipes."

Ron stood in the doorway to the kitchen, dumbfounded, "You cook? Do you clean house and do laundry too?"

Harry looked confused at the question, "Yeah, of course, why?"

"Blimey, mate! You're gonna make someone a right nice wife someday!"

Molly fumed, "Ron! That's rude. Now go de-gnome the garden!"

"But, Mum, there ain't no gnomes in the garden."

"Pull weeds then, everyone in the kitchen is learning to cook!"

Harry started to leave, but Luna said, "Stay, Harry. Mrs Weasley is teaching us how to make goat-cheese stuffed croissants."

"Cool!"

)O(

The clock on the mantle chimed as the hand depicting Arthur Weasley pointed to 'travelling' then 'home.'

He gave his wife a peck on the lips and bellowed "Evening Weasleys!"

The response from two children and one spouse seemed hollow, somehow.

"Well, that's a lot more impressive when there's seven sprogs 'round the table, eh?"

Arthur took his chair at the head of the table and noticed Harry for the first time, "Hullo! And who're you?"

"Sorry, sir. I'm Harold, sir. Harold Evans. But everyone calls me Harry."

"Evans, Evans…" Arthur seemed to be running a list, "You're not related to Lily Evans by any chance, are you?"

"I'm told we were cousins, sir. I don't really remember her."

"I see red hair and green eyes run in the family, and you're a wizard too?"

"Looks like, sir."

"Very polite too, but it's okay to call me Arthur. You say 'Sir,' and 'Mr Weasley,' and I start looking around for my Dad!"

They all had a laugh over that.

"Hullo, Luna. Good to see you again, after, well… Well it's good to see you again."

"Thank you, sir."

Ginny asked, "Daddy, who is Lily Evans?"

"Was, Dear. Was. Tragic story that. Lily Evans married James Potter, and together they had a son…"

Ginny squealed, "Harry Potter!"

She looked at 'Harold' and practically bounced in her chair, "So you're Harry Potter's cousin!"

Harry looked down, not liking to lie, so he said, "I'm sure Harry Potter has lots of cousins he doesn't even know about."

The news that Arthur was going to share, about Harry Potter being missing and presumed dead would wait for another time.

Like most hard-working farm folk, the Weasleys turned in early. Luna and Ginny bunked together, but Harry was given his own room, "On account of my brother's snoring can wake the dead!"

"Lots of room, Dears, lots of room." Molly said, wistfully. It was plain that she missed having a large group of children and their friends underfoot all the time.

)O(

Harry was well on his way to sleep when Luna and Ginny came into his room

Ginny whispered, "Everyone else is asleep."

Curious, Harry asked, "What's up?"

Luna smiled and said, "We are, now follow us."

He threw a house robe over his pajamas and followed the girls out the kitchen door and to a shed that bordered the garden. A simple 'alohamora' opened the door.

Ginny handed out two stout-looking brooms and chose a third for herself.

"Brooms?"

"For your first flying lesson, Harry."

"Here? Now? It's freezing out here!"

"Yes, the best time, no one else is about. There's a full moon so visibility is great, and if you fall, you'll land in snow… Perfect!"

Ginny assumed control of her 'flying class.'

"Lay your broom down, stand to the left, hold out your right hand and say, "Up!" You don't have to shout it, but be sure to give it clear directions."

"Ready? Okay. Up!"

Harry imagined the fun, the freedom of riding up in the air, above it all and clearly enunciated, "Up!"

And the broomstick flew into his hand with a "Smack."

Luna's was a close second, followed by Ginny's.

"Excellent! Now step over the broom, that's it. Place your feet in the stirrups and remember, smooth movements. Let the forward, leading edge of the broom stay in the front. Imagine it's a horse. You give it it's head, let it go, but always, always remember you're the one steering it!

Harry, flanked by the two more experienced flyers, let the broom take him up into the cool, clear air.

The freedom, the exhilaration, the awesome view as the full disk of the moon rose over the snow-covered countryside was completely and utterly indescribably beyond anything Harry had ever experienced. Thanks to a very effective warming charm, courtesy of Luna, no one had to suffer the cold, mid-winter's night air.

"Higher!"

"Faster!"

"Climb, dive!"

"Tag! You're it!"

"Woo - who!"

The trio flew for the better part of an hour, climbing, diving, looping and rolling. They all played follow the leader through a wide-open horse barn.

Harry's broom started acting sluggish, like it was getting tired.

Ginny saw and understood, "These are really old brooms, Harry, we'd best be heading back."

They flew back as a sedate speed, letting the slowest broom set the pace, enjoying the moonlit vista.

It was the happiest Harry ever remembered being.

When they set down by the open door of the broom shed Harry pulled both girls into a tight hug.

"Thank you, thank you both! That was amazing!"

Harry slept that night, dreaming of unencumbered flight and freedom.

Meanwhile, in the master bedroom, Molly asked, "When was the last time you went, woo - who?"

Arthur sniggered, "Help me set up the silencing wards and I'll remind you…"

)O(

Again, cheers (raising a glass) and thanks to Tommy King, who kindly stepped up to the plate to give this story a more authentic British voice.

A note on Xeno. He's a lot more focused in this tale, as is Luna, because of Harry. He is also an eligible widower in a society where witches greatly outnumber wizards. I hope to give him some interesting encounters in the future.

I got so many comments on the wand-polishing "end-neuendo," all of which were positive. Remember, these are kids, they're only ten years old at this time. Nothing is going to happen until they mature physically and emotionally. This isn't a 'do-over' story, with adult characters suddenly finding themselves in children's bodies, it's an Alternate Universe. Let's let them be kids for a while longer.

Finally, I would be remiss if I didn't send out a big 'thanx!' to Aealket in FF dot Net for his insightful suggestion to make Harry's 'kitchen breakdown' scene a flashback. Thanks, mate.