Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this story that is recognisable from the Harry Potter books, movies, etc. Everything else however (eg. story plot, original characters, etc.) stems from my own imagination and belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not profiting financially from this story in any way.


Chapter 4 – Fun Fairs and Familiar Faces

Sun, 25/9/2005

It had been just a week to the day since Harry and Neville – better known as Evan and Leander to their neighbours – had arrived in their new world. Unsurprisingly, Neville had been spending the majority of his time in the nursery. Harry on the other hand – having done all he could with the library at present – had taken to spending his time first in the stacks of Flourish & Blotts and – when that turned up no results – in Rowena's Library. He was still looking for information on the Fidelius Charm.

"Leander!" he called from the back door, "I'm going out."

He was about to close the door and head off when a shout from inside the greenhouse made him come to a halt. He looked back to see Neville stumble out of the nursery, tripping over the step at the entrance.

"One of these days," he muttered, "It's a phase I say, a phase."

"Sure, sure," Harry rolled his eyes, his scepticism obvious, "Now, what did you want? I was just heading out."

"Oh right," he brightened, dusting off his hands, "Give me ten minutes to grab a shower and I'll come with. It is the last Sunday of the month after all. It'll be good to see it again."

Before Harry had a chance to question exactly what it was, Neville was halfway up the stairs. Shrugging and dismissing it he dropped down onto the couch, tapping a random rhythm on the armrest as he looked about aimlessly for something to do and wishing he had something to read. Looking towards the entryway he pursed his lips. The library was just a few steps away but he was really wanted something a bit lighter, like a newspaper. Suddenly realising that they'd not been having one delivered since they arrived, he quickly resolved to stop by the Owl Office that day to get a subscription to the Daily Prophet. Besides, it was good to keep up on current events.

At the pounding of steps on the stairs he called out a pre-emptive warning.

"Watch out for that last-" thump, he sighed, his warning having come too late, "Step."

Five minutes later two brothers – one quietly amused and one not so quietly annoyed – headed off down Belle Blanchard Lane. As they were approaching Wizard's Square Harry suddenly cocked his head to the side, listening intently to the sounds carried his way by the wind. As they got closer and closer to the Square the sounds grew louder. He also noted Neville's expression growing progressively lighter. Soon they were near enough to identify the sounds; laughter, talking, yelling and music. Before he had a chance to question his brother, he was dragged into a jog around the corner and into the Square – where he stopped dead in his tracks.

"What on earth is all this?"

Blue eyes which had been flitting about distractedly suddenly focused on him.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, since when is Wizard's Square the site of a carnival?"

And a carnival it was. There was music and dancing and stalls of all sorts. Rides and games, from hoopla to kissing booths to the wizarding version of the Ferris wheel. There was even a miniature version of the Hogwarts Express carrying younger children around the park as they sat strapped to the small carriage roofs. And the foods! There were people with toffee apples and hotdogs and with candy floss messed on their faces, and people drinking bottles of butterbeers and other sweetened beverages. And then – over the whole lot of that – there was an atmosphere about the place which spoke of laughter and fun and relaxation.

"You didn't know about Wizard's Fair?" Neville's surprised tone dragged his attention back towards him, "What am I talking about? Of course you wouldn't. You only ever went to Diagon Alley for school supplies a few times before it was destroyed."

"I did stay at the Leaky Cauldron for three weeks or so before third year."

"After you blew up your Aunt Marge, right?"

"Yeah," he looked off into the distance dreamily, "Good memory."

"I'm sure," Neville laughed, "You weren't at the Cauldron on the last Sunday of a month?"

"Possibly, but I spent most of my time down at Fortescue's finishing essays and such. I probably never came close enough to notice that day."

"Well, they hold the Wizard's Fair every-"

"Let me guess: every last Sunday of the month?"

"Yeah," Neville began leading Harry through the crowds, "It's been going for who knows how long. Gran mentioned once she used to come occasionally when she was little girl."

"A very long time then," Harry observed as they dodged first a bright red ball bouncing their way, and then a child racing after it.

"Exactly. Anyway it's always great fun. Especially at Christmas."

Woot, wooo! They and those around them all paused as the miniature Hogwarts Express – loaded with toddlers – chugged across their path before hurrying onwards once again.

"What's so special about the Christmas Fair?"

"Oh, it's brilliant. They have Christmas trees and fairies. And for the younger kids they give out gifts. I used to love it as a child."

"You know, I've never actually been to a fair before."

Neville stopped in surprise only to be bowled over by an elderly gentleman. Luckily good cheer seemed to abound as he only laughed good-naturedly before clambering back to his feet and going on his way. Neville on the other hand brushed himself off before turning to look at his brother.

"You've never been to a fair?" his mouth gaped open.

"Nope," Harry shook his head

"Been on a Ferris wheel?"

"Afraid not."

"Ring toss?"

"Not that I recall."

"Tell me you've at least had candy floss before?" his jaw which had previously dropped progressively lower with each answer now snapped shut and his face had a pleading expression.

"Never."

"Well," blue eyes changed from pleading to resolute, "We're just going to have to do something about that."

With that Neville grabbed his hand and marched determinedly towards the nearest ride. Harry, knowing better than to try to disagree with his Neville when he was so set on something, was left with no choice but to follow along. And in the end he was so very glad he did.

Some hours later the two were meandering around the stalls, each carrying a bag filled with various sweets and carnival fare and a number of prizes from the games they had played. Harry was pouting as Neville teased about his turn at 'High Strikers'.

"Ten times! Ten times you tried it before I had to drag you away."

"It was rigged I say, rigged," he claimed, not very convincingly.

He snorted in disbelief, "Rigged my arse. I used the exact same one right before you did and I hit that bell three times."

"Well it must have broken after you had your turn. Or-" he searched for an excuse, "Or maybe it was the mallet. I used a different one than you did."

"The girl after you used the same mallet and still managed to ring the bell Evan," Neville pointed out with a smirk.

"Hey, she was freakishly well muscled for a ten year old," he whined indignantly.

Neville just cracked up laughing leaving Harry to huff in annoyance and storm off. Still laughing, he hurried after. He caught sight of his brother just as he stopped all of a sudden. Walking towards him he was about to ask what was wrong when he followed the green eyed gaze and stopped suddenly beside him also. Harry, felt his brother come to stand next to him but didn't, or perhaps couldn't, turn to look.

"You know, we're making rather a habit of this 'stopping suddenly for various reasons' thing," he said, observing detachedly how distant and emotionless his voice had sounded.

"Yeah. We're p-probably stopping t-t-traffic flow," said Neville whose voice was, conversely, shaking with emotion.

Finally, realising it wouldn't be an idea to be caught staring by the objects of their combined fascination – especially without time to compose themselves – Harry snapped out of his trance and dragged himself and his brother into an nearby alleyway made from the space between two stalls. They both stood their staring at one another before Neville finally managed to speak, if somewhat shakily.

"Well, we both knew there was a chance of it."

"I know."

"I guess I just wasn't expecting it so soon."

"Or so suddenly."

Neville nodded in agreement, "So, what do we want to do?"

"Do?"

"Yeah. Do we ignore them or do we go and introduce ourselves?"

"And say what?"

"I don't know," he shrugged looking off to the side.

There was a moment of silence between them before Harry whispered.

"They're alive… and yet, they're dead."

He paused and then snickered in laughter. Neville, surprised at this reaction gazed at him worriedly.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah it's just," he shook his head, "This is so screwed up."

At that Neville gave a small smile also.

"It really is. So, what should we do?"

"Hey, why do I have to decide?"

"Because, you are the fearless leader."

"No I'm not," he objected.

"Oh please. You were the head of the Resistance."

"I wasn't the head of the Resistance. The Resistance had no leader; that was the whole point," at the look he was receiving he shifted uncomfortably, "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You're completely oblivious at times, you know that right?" his voice was incredulous.

"I'm going to hold off on my offence for a minute while you explain the whole 'head' thing."

"You were the head of the Resistance. Not officially or anything but everyone did follow you."

"But," he frowned, "That's not what I wanted. We established it because no one wanted to follow some dictator."

"Evan," he said softly, "We followed you because you weren't a dictator. You weren't like Dumbledore or Fudge or Voldemort. You let people make their own decisions. You never stopped anyone from doing their own thing or organising their own missions if they wanted. You never even stopped someone if they wanted to go off alone on some crazy plan – Merlin, you usually joined them."

"Well someone had to make sure they didn't kill themselves," he said defensively and his brother's smile widened.

"That's exactly my point. And then there's the fact that you never forced anyone to follow orders they didn't want to. Not that that was much of a problem because we all wanted to follow you."

Harry was by this stage pouting at him. Knowing that his brother would never willingly admit Neville was right about this – no matter what he thought – the elder twin changed the subject.

"So. To introduce or not to introduce?"

"This isn't fair. Why don't you decide?"

"Such are the burden's of leadership," he quipped cheerily.

"Fine," he huffed before adopting a thoughtful look, "I think, I think that we need to remember that it's not really them. We don't know what they're like here. But, what if they are the same people, they've just lead a somewhat different life?"

"There is the war to think about though," Neville pointed out, "That would have changed them a lot. They won't be exactly the same."

"Still, I don't think we should just throw away this chance. We'd regret it."

He looked to his brother to see if he agreed. Neville nodded.

"Yeah, I think we would," he took a steadying breath and smiled, "So, how do we go about this?"

Harry smiled back, "I say we make it up as we go along."

"You would," he snorted and then was whacked in the back of the head, "Hey, what was that for?"

"For the 'oblivious' comment. The hold on the offence was over."

With that he grinned and skipped back out to the main thoroughfare, Neville rolling his eyes and following along behind.

Side by side they approached their destination; a garishly coloured stall decorated in neon orange, lurid green and hot pink. Above the stall was a flashing neon sign – although how the proprietors had managed to get electricity working in Wizard's Square was anyone's guess – which read 'WWW'.

"Fred and George," a woman screeched, "When will the two of you stop this silly joke nonsense and get proper, respectable jobs?"

Fred and George looked much as they remembered. A little less buff and lacking a few scars but that was to be expected considering the peaceful times. Of course peaceful was relative when Mrs Weasley got it into her mind to lecture her children. She was berating her two sons quite soundly. The Franklin brothers both winced as her voice jumped an octave or two.

"Mum, would you-," one red haired twin began.

"Keep it down. You're scaring off customers," the other finished.

This of course set the woman off onto another tirade about showing proper respect for your elders. As the twins – the Weasley twins that is – began shifting from foot to foot in embarrassment, Harry threw them a sympathetic look.

In his home world Mrs Weasley had filled the position in his life of honorary mother or perhaps favourite aunt. Mr Weasley on the other hand was like a fun – if slightly quirky – uncle. While Harry had never stopped caring about either of them, Mrs Weasley unfortunately had an overly controlling personality, especially when it came to her children, a category in which she happened to include Harry. She also tended to insist on treating them as babies, trying to keep them out of the war by keeping them ignorant of what was going on. Needless to say he hadn't appreciated that fact.

In the end he had cut ties to them both. Not simply because of the aforementioned reasons – he could have coped with those. It was the fact that Mrs Weasley thought she always knew what was best. That and that the only person she would concede to was Albus Dumbledore. She thought the man could do no wrong. Mr Weasley, although a good man, felt he had no choice but to support his wife. Naturally they had both then found themselves firmly on the side of the Order of the Phoenix. And thus, by default, firmly against Harry himself.

Shuffling over to the stand the chocolate haired twins pretended to be browsing the products on display. Sharing a glance, they both nodded, coming to a decision. Neville picked up a Canary Cream and turned to talk loudly to his brother.

"Look at this. It says it turns a person into a human sized canary for a few moments."

"Really," he acted surprised and noticed Fred and George glancing their way from the corner of his eye, "That must have taken a lot of work. First one would have to create an activation charm which links to either a transfiguration spell or potion. Then there's the spell or potion itself. It would have to be quite precise, making sure all the internal organs rearrange appropriately. If it's a potion they must have created it from scratch too. Or if it's a transfiguration- well, you can't just use the standard human to canary spell, not at human size."

"Oh, definitely not." Neville agreed enthusiastically and they both saw they now had Mrs Weasleys attention now also.

"Then they would have had to find a way to store the charm along with the potion or transfiguration spell – whichever it is they used – in the confection and a way to set the charm to only work once the treat is consumed. Not to mention – if it's a spell and not a potion – there must be an inbuilt timer. And, they would have had to somehow make sure said timer wasn't destroyed by the consumption of the Canary Cream so that it can set off a second activation charm linked to a the reverse transfiguration required to change the person back again. It's all really quite brilliant," he said admiringly.

"Yes, quite a marvel of magic!"

By the time they had finished they had also gained the attention of a number of other fair-goers. They all looked quite intrigued. The Weasley boys they could see were grinning happily, noticing their mum was now the one shifting in embarrassment – no doubt since she had recently been lecturing them on how pointless their creations were. Taking advantage of her hesitation they bounced over to Neville and Harry.

"They forgot the most difficult part," Fred said.

"Oh, indeed they did brother mine," George agreed.

"What part was that?" Harry played along, struggling to look curious and not break into laughter.

"Why the recipe for the custard creams of course," George said as though it should be obvious.

"That's not just any old custard cream," Fred explained, "It's our very own recipe."

"So not only is your wheeze fun and entertaining,"

They both finished, "It tastes fantastic as well!"

That seemed to be the cue, as all the passers-by who had stopped to listen surged forward to look over all the products.

Harry noticed Mrs Weasley looking hesitant but ignored her in favour of a detailed debate between Fred, Neville and himself about the pros and cons of transfiguring or merely creating glamour illusions. George meanwhile, was busy taking orders and manning the register.

Eventually the customers dispersed, laded with joke items, and George came over to join their conversation. Not wanting to risk turning around, Harry whispered to them both.

"Is she gone?"

The Weasley's eyes flickered briefly over his shoulder before identical grins broke out on their faces.

"She waved goodbye just as I began ringing up all the purchases-" George told them.

"And disappeared around the corner not two seconds ago."

Neville sighed, "Good. I don't know how much further I could stretch my knowledge of transfiguration and illusion spells."

"Well, my brother and I must thank you both most heartily," Fred said with mock formality and leaned over to shake Neville's hand with gusto.

George did the same for Harry, "Our mother, she means well and all-"

"But, she's not exactly supportive of our chosen vocational direction."

At his brother's confused look, Harry leaned towards him and said.

"Career path."

"Oh, well we didn't do much," Neville said modestly.

"Please," Fred scoffed, "My brother and I-"

"Are the masters of distraction and misdirection-"

"And what you just did-"

"Was a masterful display of both."

"Perhaps," he agreed with a smile, "But we did mean it; your jokes are brilliant."

"Well it's appreciated. And where are our manners? The name's Fred Weasley. Pleasure to meet you both. And this is my brother-"

"George Weasley, but call me Forge-"

"And me Gred. It's simply an honour to meet you," he said, mockingly pompous.

"Nice to meet you two as well," Harry said with a smile, "I'm Evan Franklin."

"And I'm Leander Franklin."

"Call him Lea, I do," he said before whispering sarcastically, "He really does prefer it."

Sigh, "I'd argue but I know when to choose my battles," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"Well, we must find a way to thank you both," George said.

"Oh, there's no need fo-" Neville went to object but was cut off by Fred.

"Well of course there's a need. You defended us from the banshee woman posing as our mother."

"Not only that brother mine. After our new friends' little speech we sold more product and made more profit than we usually do over two whole Fair days."

"Well, that clinches it doesn't it then? We must insist-"

"You join us for lunch."

"Our treat."

Since neither Harry nor Neville actually wanted to decline, they agreed. The Weasleys soon left their stall to the capable hands of Lee Jordan and a vaguely familiar witch who they hired to cover the lunch hour, and then both sets of twins made their way over to the Leaky Cauldron.

..ooOOoo..

"So you never went to Hogwarts?" George's incredulous voice cried out.

The four of them were ensconced in a booth at the Leaky Cauldron enjoying plates of Tom's best toasted cheese sandwiches and bottles of butterbeer.

"Nope, our aunt didn't like magic too much and she was very set on us getting a Muggle education. She's not the kind of woman you argue with," Neville explained.

The boys had decided that their 'aunt' would be a woman with Harry's Aunt Petunia's values – especially on magic – and Neville's Gran's strong and overbearing personality. That way they could each talk about her with a much more convincing familiarity.

"So, you can do magic can't you?" asked the other redhead.

"Oh, we had magic tutors," Harry assured them, "It was kind of a bargaining point though. We could only learn magic if we did all our chores-"

"And all of hers-" Neville added.

"And didn't make a nuisance of ourselves-"

"And got good marks in 'proper' Muggle school-"

"And most importantly, didn't give the neighbours any reason to gossip," Harry said, finishing their rather Fred and George-ish run.

"Blimey," George said, looking sympathetic, "That sounds-"

"Terrible," said his equally sympathetic brother before they both brightened, "But just know, if you're wanting to perhaps get back at the old shrew-"

"We are the proprietors of the best joke business around," they chimed together and their audience of two laughed.

"As tempting as that is," Harry said, "We left her behind for the wizarding world as soon as we were old enough.

"Exactly," his brother agreed, "And we swore we wouldn't ever set eyes on her again. Not even for a joke."

"Was she really that bad-" Fred asked.

"That you'll never see her again-"

"Even though she's family?"

"Blood she may be, but family she is not," Neville said sagely

"Fair enough," George shrugged, "Guess it's just hard to understand for us."

"As much of a prat as our brothers are occasionally-"

"And as much of a banshee our mother can be-"

"We still love them all loads," Fred finished.

"You have a big family then?" Harry asked, as though he didn't know.

"Huge. There's mum and dad and including us-"

"Seven siblings in all."

"Bill's the oldest. He works as a Curse Breaker for Gringotts."

"Charlie is next. He's a Dragon Handler in Romania."

"Percy the prat works at the Ministry under Mr Crouch."

"Then there's the wonderful us, who you already know about."

"Then there's ickle Ronniekins. He'd be about your age. Works part-time at Quality Quidditch Supplies and mooches off mum the rest of the time."

"Lastly is our little sister Gin-Gin. Ginny has a reserve position on a small time Quidditch team and works at Quality Quidditch the rest of the time with Ron."

"What about your dad?" Neville asked as his brother polished off his butterbeer and signalled a waitress.

"Dad's the head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office," George said.

"His actually a bit Muggle crazy," Fred told them, "Loves everything to do with them."

"He has a plug collection."

The Franklin brother's faces showed their amused disbelief – convincingly contrived – before the waitress came around to their table.

"What can I get you?" she asked with in a bored tone.

"I'll have another butterbeer thanks," Harry said and raised an eyebrow at the others, "What about you three? Want another? On me."

"I'm alright," Neville said, "Only halfway through the one I've got."

"My brother and I will have another," Fred said, "But we must-"

"Insist upon paying. That was the point of lunch after all," finished the other.

He nodded to the waitress and she returned with their drinks, scooping up the coins George put down for her and pottering away again. Harry and the Weasleys popped the cork from their bottles and the redheaded two look on in confusion as Neville automatically collected them up and tucked them in his robe pocket.

"That's the second time you've done that," one redhead said.

The other added, "What are you planning to do with them, build butterbeer cork houses?"

"Oh," Neville looked down at his pocket in surprise, "I honestly didn't realise I did it."

Seeing sadness overtaking his brother's features, Harry stepped in.

"We used to have a friend who collected them. She used to make Leander carry them for her. I guess it's just become automatic."

After that he skilfully steered the conversation off in a different direction. They all sat there for another half hour or so, chatting and sipping at their drinks. Eventually however time was up and Fred and George needed to get back to their stall.

"Well, we'd best get going before Lee and Gina get tired of waiting," George said as they all stood.

"Or worse," Fred said, "Demand overtime."

They shuddered and the other two chuckled.

"Well it was nice meeting you both," Neville said politely.

"And it was spiffing to meet the two of you also," Fred said and bowed dramatically.

"Feel free to stop by our stall anytime," George bowed also, "We're at Wizard's Fair ever month."

And with that they waved goodbye and were gone.

After they had left the remaining two sat back down, contemplating the meeting. Neville looked up at his brother with a small smile.

"I'm glad we decided to meet them again."

"Yeah," Harry's uncertain expression changed to a smile of his own, "So am I. They're just like I remember."

"I know. I mean, I realise they're not really the same people, but I think that we could all still be good friends," he screwed up his nose, "We'll just have to be careful not to make any slip-ups around them – not say anything we shouldn't know yet."

"Yeah. Who knows, maybe one day we'll know them well enough to tell them the truth.

Neville grinned, "They'd love that. They'd think it the greatest prank, us secretly knowing them all along."

Harry grinned too and agreed.

"Well," he took a swig of his butterbeer, emptying the bottle, "We should probably get going. I wanted to stop by the Owl Office before we head home."

"No library today?" Neville asked, stacking the used plates and empty bottles on a tray for the waitress.

"No. I think I'll have the rest of the day off. Besides, I'm not really getting anywhere. The only information I can seem to find on the Fidelius Charm is what it is and does – nothing on how to cast it."

They both stood up and started heading towards the back door of the pub, weaving between tables as they went.

"Well, if it's that uncommon, chances are it'll only be found in a few really rare and no doubt ancient books."

"I'd already guessed that much," he said annoyed and got rolled eyes in response.

"I mean, that the chances of something that rare just being in a public library are pretty slim," as Harry looked defeated he hurried to add, "But that doesn't mean it's hopeless."

"Really? What do you suggest then?" he asked, withdrawing his wand and opening the portal into Diagon Alley.

"Chances are a few of the old pure-blood families might have something. They tend to accumulate libraries over the generations."

"So we just randomly owl some pure-blood families asking for books?" he sounded sceptical.

"Well, no. That was one of two options."

"And the second?" he asked, distractedly as they passed the Quidditch store.

"There's this second hand book shop that's known to take requests. And from what I've heard they're quite good at tracking down what you're looking for."

"Really?" he asked excitedly, "Where is it?"

"..nnrn…lley…" the blue eyed man mumbled.

"Lea, you're going to have to speak a little clearer," he said, curious now.

"Knockturn Alley," he said, cringing as he waited for the outburst.

"Knockturn Alley!?" at the stares from passers-by he dragged his friend into a small side alley, "Knockturn Alley? Since when do we frequent that place?"

"Well the thing is, the only time we ever went there was after the war was in full swing," he said quietly, so as not to be overheard by anyone.

"Yeah, I know. That informant – Red Viper – he always insisted on meeting at the pub down there. What's that got to do with anything?"

"Well, it was only after the war that the place became so dark," at the sceptical look he hurriedly added, "Okay, so it's always been dark. But just because there are no dark shops on Diagon doesn't mean there aren't any light ones in Knockturn."

Another sceptical look, "Light?"

"Well, maybe grey or less dark rather than light. Either way it didn't become completely entrenched in the Dark Arts until Diagon was destroyed."

Sigh, "Okay, I know you're not the sort to exaggerate about something like this so I'll just ask – is it dangerous?"

"Hmm," he look thoughtful and stated slowly, "Less so than our version of Diagon Alley is."

A snort, "Well, that's terribly reassuring," he said sardonically, "Okay, I'll check it out tomorrow. For now, let's get us a Daily Prophet subscription."

They slipped back onto the main thoroughfare and continued on their way until they reached their destination. The Owl Office was a small but well patronised building, squashed between Gringotts and Madam Malkin's. It was two stories high, the top floor looking to be an Owlery. Flocks of birds departed with various newspapers and magazines in claw and returned without. Over the front of the building hung a sign done in purple and bronze, proclaiming it to be 'Newt's News'.

Neville waited outside as Harry slipped through the door, the bell above it ringing as he did so. There were a few customers about at the moment, including a gaggle of girls ooh-ing and ah-ing over the teen magazines in the corner.

Ignoring them Harry made his way to the counter as the man there paid for his newspaper and left. The woman behind the counter looked up as he approached.

"What can I do for you sir?" she asked.

"I wanted to get a subscription to the Daily Prophet."

"Certainly," she pulled a form from beneath the bench, handing it to him along with a quill "If you'll just fill this out."

He stepped to the side, allowing her to serve another wizard as he filled in the form. Name, most common address, likelihood of overseas trips, length of subscription and for some reason favourite colour were only some of the questions asked, followed by his signature at the bottom.

The other man soon finished his business and he stepped back in front of the cashier, handing her the form. She looked it over briefly and nodded.

"This is all fine. Now let's see. You ordered the one year subscription."

She gave him the price and he handed over the appropriate change. Then she signed his form and filled it in a drawer behind the counter before giving him a smile.

"All done. Your first newspaper will be delivered tomorrow."

And with that he left the store – only to find himself face first on the ground. Without a second thought he reflexively rolled over, pulling the body that had pushed him down beneath him, and pressed a firm arm against the culprit's neck. It all happened in but a moment but once he realised what he had done he blinked and quickly started to apologise. The apology however was interrupted before it could be finished by a squeaking sound off to the side. Looking over he felt his breath leaving him in a rush as he gazed upon a very familiar form with huge green eyes and bat-like ears. It was Dobby.

"How dare you accost me like this?" a snooty and indignant voice drew his attention back to the man pinned beneath him, "Do you know who I am?"

His arm automatically began pressing down more firmly on the neck it rested against before was able to stop himself. Quickly though, he gathered his wits and jumped to his feet. He felt someone come up behind him and looked to see that it was Neville. His brother's face bore a thunderous expression, directed at the blonde now rising to his feet.

"I am Draco Malfoy, heir to the great Malfoy family, and I've a mind to see you in Azkaban for this."

Harry saw his brother taking slow deep breaths and did the same. This man was supposed to be a stranger to him. It would be more than a little suspicious if two people he had never met were to hate him on sight.

"I apologise, I didn't mean to run into you," he said as politely as he could manage before looking at the cowering Dobby, his expression softening, "And I apologise to your house-elf too, for scaring him."

He had made the latter comment automatically, without thinking. However, as he stared at Dobby's wide, surprised eyes brimming with tears, he realised just what he had done. A glance in Neville's direction showed he had realised too and was quite amused. Harry Potter had once again made an obsessive fan of the house-elf Dobby.

"Are you mad?"

Malfoy on the other hand – he now saw – was staring at him with an incredulous expression. Clearly he thought someone who would apologise to his 'lowly servant' must be more than a few Knuts short of a Sickle. Not to mention the fact that a mere moment ago he had been effectively pinned to the ground by said someone. After a few moments uncomfortable silence his face – which had been screwed up in disbelief – slowly transformed into a wary expression, as though the crazy man might turn on him at any second.

"No," Harry assured him cheerfully, amused at his cautious attitude, "I'm perfectly sane. The pink Hippogriff on my shoulder always tells me so."

Draco's eyes flickered momentarily to said shoulder and back again, backing away slowly.

"Right… well I'll just be going. Dobby, come!"

And with that he turned and strode away as fast as dignity would allow. Dobby paused just long enough to throw Evan a fawning expression before hurry to catch up to his master.

After both had disappeared from sight the twins stared at one another in silence, amused looks covering their faces.

"Who would have thought crazy people would disconcert the bastard so much?" Harry wondered aloud with a chuckle.

Neville laughed also, before he sobered.

"I guess I hadn't stopped to think about it. Dobby here is stuck with the Malfoys," he said quietly and they both shivered at the thought, "He just doesn't look like Dobby without his colourful socks. And did you see the bruises on his arms and chest, and the burns on his fingers?"

Another shiver, "I know, it's horrible. There must be something we can do to free him here like I did back home."

"What are the chances of you being able to trick one of the Malfoys into giving him a sock again?" the blue eyed brother pointed out realistically, "It's a miracle it worked the first time."

He knew his brother was right but he also knew if the opportunity arose both of them would have Dobby freed in a heartbeat. As it was though, the elf remained enslaved to some of the worst possible masters – one being the very man who had killed him in another universe. And so it was that the two brothers made their way home that day in much lower spirits than they had been only hours before

..ooOOoo..

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