HARRY POTTER AND THE UNFORGIVEN
A Sixth Year Harry Potter Fanfiction
BY
Jayiin Mistaya
"Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus."
...never tickle a sleeping dragon
COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to Harry Potter. Those rights are held, exclusively, by JK Rowling, and any other entities, corporations, subsidiaries, or groups not named here possessing legal rights to the aforementioned books and/or trademark.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, Harry finally wakes up!
I never meant for it to take this long to get here, but – there it is. This chapter is un-beta'd, as Elvenlaughter has come down with a horrid case of Real Life, so any mistakes in here are all mine.
Possibly the longest chapter to date, too. You get answers, fluff, and angst!
I hope to get the next chapter up sooner than I got this one up!
On another note, I'm soon going to be starting a Livejournal about this story, including my comments about writing it. There will be spoilers, comments on character and motivation and even hints of the deeper plot.
You can find it at the masterscircle LJ. There's not much there now, but there will be soon. It'll be public, so you won't need to be a member of LJ to read it. Post comments and questions, and I may even answer.
More information on Harry Potter and the Unforgiven can be found at my website, which is linked in my Author Profile. This includes update dates, hints about upcoming chapters, and even a few spoilers.
Feedback of any kind is always appreciated. Remember, the more reviews I get, the faster I post.
And feel free to email, IM, PM or otherwise contact me to harass me to post. I enjoy talking to my readers.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Thanks to Elusive Evan for making me continue to post this and to ElvenLaughter for support, encouragement and not giving up on me when she probably should have washed her hands of me!
Check out her newest stories here on FFn – "Drabbles" and "The Shrieking Shack." Both are excellent reads.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Revelation
Faint snatches of phoenix song called him back to the world.
His eyes opened and he leapt to his feet. His body twisted, falling into line as his feet touched the floor. His muscles remembered what his mind didn't, and he assumed the fighting stance Gracie had mercilessly drilled into him. He held his wand at the ready, a half dozen spells on the tip of his tongue.
"Harry?" A voice cut through the haze, and he caught a glimpse of copper hair as someone stepped in front of him. It was a voice he knew; a voice he wanted to hear.
An illusion. Or a dream? The last thing he clearly remembered was the Death Eaters. The pain of their spells wracking his body.
Something touched his arm; warm, soft fingertips sliding over his skin. Touching. Not holding. Not hurting.
"Ginny?" His voice quavered.
"I'm right here." Her voice.
His body relaxed, falling badly out of line. He took a step closer to her. Even in the dim light of a single candle, he saw her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.
"A dream. This is another dream." He was talking more to himself than her. She can't be here. She can't be where they can hurt her, too.
A gentle trilling of song, resonating through him.
Flashes of memory teased the edges of his thoughts with tantalizing hints of what had happened. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the memories to hold still long enough to piece together anything coherent. He was drifting, floating – as if he were missing an anchor he hadn't consciously known he'd had.
He felt the soft fingertips brush his cheek. "You aren't dreaming. This is real. I'm here."
"Here?" He blinked, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. He saw the other two figures, standing now (had they been sitting, earlier? He couldn't remember.)
"The Burrow. You're safe. They can't get you here. I promise." The fingertips pressed harder against his arm.
He heard the hiss of a match, and saw a second candle flare to life; he saw a pair of faces looking at him over the flame.
Faces he knew. "Ron? Hermione?"
"It's us, mate," Ron answered hesitantly.
Another strand of phoenix song whispered, warm pinpricks tapping at the doors to the place in his mind where his thoughts had retreated. The song forced the doors open with gentle, insistent pressure.
Disjointed parts of memories connected with an almost audible snap.
Pain.
It was the first thing Harry became completely aware of. There was very little of him that didn't hurt.
His legs wouldn't hold him anymore. He collapsed, falling heavily to the floor and leaned his side against the bed, his back against the wall, shaking.
Ginny knelt beside him, her hand touching his bare shoulder. He flinched away. She pulled her hand back, hiding her face behind her hair, hiding the hurt in her eyes.
Copper tresses tickled his face.
Words stuck in his throat, threatening to choke him.
He focused himself, gathering what strength he could, and tried again to stand up. The pain nearly paralyzed him.
"Ohh..." He gasped, blinking sudden tears out of his eyes. "That wasn't such a good idea..."
Ginny reached out and brushed her fingertips across his forehead, pushing aside his hair. "You okay?"
Harry tried to shrug, but found that hurt, too. "Sorta. Maybe. Not really." Reality was slowly catching up with him, memories slowly being processed. "Why is it I'm not dead this time?"
Ginny paled and looked away. "Fawkes. Fawkes came with Dumbledore, and he saved you. You're not okay though, not really. You have to drink a potion made from phoenix tears every day for awhile."
Again, the golden-warm sound of phoenix song washed over him, the pain receding. He felt feathers tickle his ear, and he looked up into Fawkes' eyes.
The phoenix nuzzled his cheek, crooning happily.
"Thank you." He ran his hand down the silky feathers for a moment, before Fawkes pulled away, content to sit on the bed and whisper snatches of song.
"How long have I been out?"
Ginny looked nervous, as if unsure what to do with her hands now that she wasn't touching him. "All day. You appeared early morning. It's after dark, now."
Hermione and Ron were kneeling next to him now.
He felt another hand touch him and he flinched away. Hermione tried not to look hurt, but he could see it on her face.
"Sorry. I'm a bit jumpy."
She smiled weakly. He met her eyes and saw it there. Something they didn't want to tell him. His eyes darted to Ron and saw the same on his face.
He let out a shaky breath. "Just tell me."
"Dumbledore is here, Harry," Hermione whispered. "He wants to talk to you...and take you back. To them."
Harry closed his eyes and tried to force the tension out of his muscles. "I have to go back."
"But..."
Harry cut Hermione off. "Dumbledore is right. I have to go back until he says I can leave. No matter how long that is."
"I don't think so, mate," Ron said calmly. "We're not going to let them send you back there so the muggles can have another go at you."
Harry looked at Ron blankly. Hermione bit her lower lip and Ginny was still trying to figure out what to do with her hands.
"I survived this long. I'll survive however long I need to." Harry's voice had a flat, dull quality to it that even he was surprised at.
You'd be surprised what you can live through. He almost said it, but didn't think anyone else would appreciate the humor. He tried not to remember Vernon's rage or the pain that came with it. It wasn't even that bad before Hogwarts. He used to just...hit me. Not like that.
"You're not going back there, Harry," Ron said with a little more force in his voice. "You're in a right state, not able to stand, barely able to move. You might just be one of the greatest bloody wizards to ever live, but right about now a flobberworm could knock you out."
He shook his head. "I have to go back. That's all there is to it."
"No," Hermione said. "Yesterday afternoon, I went to go check on you. I saw where they're keeping you, and I met your Aunt. You are not going back."
Harry looked up at them. "Don't you see? I'm safe from him there, just like Hogwarts. If he could come and go from the Ministry, then there aren't many places he can't reach." He let out a long, slow breath. Talking was becoming more and more of an effort. "Umbridge sent the Dementors. The Ministry knows where I live, so Voldemort probably knows where I live...but he couldn't reach me there. I spent one night away...and look what happened."
"What did happen, Harry?" Hermione asked the question that had been plaguing them since he had appeared at Ginny's feet.
"I was too damn stupid to really understand what Dumbledore meant..." Harry seemed to almost be talking to himself. "I was too bloody tired of it all. It was just one night away so Dudders could go on a date without me around."
Ginny's eyes widened at the sound of his voice. His tone managed to imply that no one in their right mind would want him around, especially when it was something important.
Dudley. Gracie.
The emotional blow was like a hammer slamming into his gut. Were they alive? Had he left them to die or be taken by Voldemort?
"I was too worried about getting one night away. Just one night, and I'd be able to go back and make it through. Instead, I might have gotten Gracie and Dudley killed."
"But you did not." Albus Dumbledore exercised his well-known talent for timely entrances and stood just inside the still-closed door.
Harry stared up at the Headmaster, his eyes betraying his desire to believe the Headmaster and the damaged trust that would not let him do so.
"You're going to take me back, aren't you?" There was no way for Harry to hide the fear in his voice, so he didn't bother trying.
"I believe the blood protections are essential to keeping you safe," Dumbledore said carefully. "But now is not the time to speak of such." He looked at Harry, his eyes twinkling. "We will speak later. For now, rest and enjoy your time with your friends."
Dumbledore managed a graceful exit, his twinkle and his smile not in the least affected by the glares Hermione and Ron both leveled at him.
Ginny hadn't taken her eyes off Harry. She didn't say a word. She reached out and brushed her fingertips across his cheek, a feather-light caress, as if to remind herself he was still there.
He flinched at the touch before he could stop himself.
Green eyes met brown, and Ginny tried to snatch her hand away, but faster than any of them could see, Harry caught her hand in a surprisingly gentle grip.
"It's okay." His voice was a harsh whisper. "I'm going to be okay."
Ginny pressed her hand against his cheek. "You'd better be."
This time, he let her draw her hand away, smiling sheepishly. "Any chance of some help getting back into bed?"
Ron and Hermione moved to help him, but Ginny glared at them until they backed off – or, at least Ron backed off. Hermione ignored the glare. "Honestly, Ginny! You're going to hurt him worse if you try to do this on your own! Ron, you take his legs and I'll take his shoulders. Ginny, get on the bed to help us. Harry, don't you dare give me that look. If you don't cooperate I will go get Mrs Weasley!"
Ron and Harry both shrugged helplessly and did as they were told. Ginny glowered, but climbed onto the bed, somewhat mollified she was ending up on the bed with Harry. It didn't take them long to get Harry situated and as comfortable as possible.
Ron pulled over a chair and looked straight at Harry. "I don't know why you have to stay there. I don't rightly care. You're not going back alone, if at all."
Harry closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. "It's not a choice, Ron. It's something I have to do. It's a blood-protection spell of some kind and it protects more than just me. It protects the Dursleys."
"Why do they deserve that protection?" Ginny asked softly, her finger running along the edge of a bruise. Harry exerted every shred of willpower he had not to flinch again.
"Do they deserve Voldemort or his Death Eaters torturing or killing them?" Harry whispered back. "No one does. He wants to get at me, and he knows if he hurts them he hurts me. It's not their fault I was dropped on their doorstep and it's not their fault Voldemort is out to kill me."
"No, it's not," Hermione said calmly. "This isn't about whether or not you're going back there. This is about whether or not you're going back alone." She stood next to Ron. "Open your eyes and look at me, Harry."
He did, meeting her gaze, forcing himself to breath like Gracie taught him. He had to keep his emotions under control.
"Harry James Potter, I have stood by you for five years against Death Eaters, escaped convicts and deranged Defense teachers. I have been there for you even when you didn't want me to be. What makes you think I will abandon you to those people? What makes you think any of us will? They may not deserve the danger they are in, but they do not deserve the kindness and respect you are showing them, either. Nor does that danger give them the right to torture, imprison, starve or otherwise hurt you."
Harry kept looking straight at her. "You're right. You have stood by me through more than anyone could ask you to. So has Ron and so has Ginny. But the rules are different there. I can't fight back. You can't fight for me. I have to be allowed to stay there...and they would never allow you to stay. They have the upper hand. All I have to do is survive." He looked away, his voice dropping to a whisper. "If they get to you too, then who do I have to put me back together?"
Ron gave Harry an unreadable look. "Do you just try to ask depressing questions?"
Harry sank back against the bed and closed his eyes. "Everyone has to have a hobby."
"I'd suggest a new one." Ron deadpanned back.
Harry grinned weakly.
"Harry, Dumbledore left some pain potions here. Do you need one?" Hermione asked.
Swallowing hard, Harry shook his head. He was hurting, but he didn't want to take anything that would make it harder to think. He could endure the pain. "No. I'll be okay. Just some water, if you have it."
Hermione brought over a cup of water. Ginny helped Harry sit up, trying not to notice how his muscles tensed under her touch. He took the cup from Hermione and sipped the water, wishing his mouth didn't taste like dried blood.
At least it doesn't taste like all the potions they probably had to force down my throat.
He leaned back against the pillows Ginny put behind him and just concentrated on his breathing. In and out. He closed his eyes and just breathed until the pain receded.
He didn't see the flickers of green light briefly dance around him. Hermione glanced around, but Ginny didn't appear to see anything, and Ron was staring at her instead of Harry or Ginny.
If there was one thing she'd learned being friends with Harry Potter, it was that weird things often got explained in their own time. It just took research and finding the right time to corner Harry about things. And now was definitely not the right time. There was no telling how her moody friend would react to being told he was glowing in the dark.
But Harry would be mad at her if he thought she was hiding things.
"Harry...what was that?"
"What was what, Hermione?" Harry asked, opening his eyes again.
Ron and Ginny also looked at her curiously.
She licked her lips. "Harry, for just a second, you...glowed."
"Glowed?" Harry asked weakly.
Fawkes trilled softly.
Hermione nodded. "There was a green light around you when you looked like you were falling asleep."
Ginny shrugged. "I didn't see anything."
Ron nodded. "I didn't either, but Hermione's more observant than anyone else I know."
Ginny kept herself from drawing Harry closer to her and Hermione chewed on her bottom lip. Ron stared at Harry as if looking for evidence of the strange green glow.
"Right after you appeared, you were glowing green," Ginny said. "I thought it was just the aftereffects of the magic that brought you here."
"Which we still don't understand," Hermione said. "How did you bring yourself here? It couldn't have been apparition or even portkey, because the Burrow's wards are set to only allow certain people in and out."
Ron shrugged. "Magic is just that. Magic. There's so much about it we don't know about it. We're still just students, for everything we've done. None of the Order seem too upset or confused about how Harry got here. Why should we be?"
"Because we need to know. Knowledge is power and the more we have, the better we do," Hermione stated flatly, being careful to avoid mentioning it had been a lack of knowledge had gotten Sirius killed.
"Then we'll find out like we always do," Ron said. "We can't do anything about it now."
"Harry was glowing in the dark, Ron. We can't just ignore it," Hermione had come a long way in five years. She no longer sounded prim when she made those kinds of statements. Now, she just sounded impatient.
Harry sighed. "I don't know. I don't like it. I guess it's something else to ask Dumbledore about."
"Will he answer us, though?" Ginny asked.
No one said anything.
Ron broke the uncomfortable silence. "So other than getting nearly killed – again – how was your summer?"
"Oh, the normal." Harry had a quirky half-smile. "Though I'd like to know how Hermione ended up in Little Whinging."
"You saw me?" Hermione sat on the side of the bed next to him.
"Yeah. I saw you," he answered. "I wasn't sure it was really you. I thought I was hearing things when you called my name." He couldn't make himself look at her.
Harry. Nasty, common name. Aunt Petunia's voice sounded in his head. Fawkes trilled gently, and he was able to look over at her.
"It was," Hermione whispered. "I was looking for you."
"Why?" He sounded amazed.
"Because someone needed to." Hermione answered matter-of-fact, meeting Ginny's eyes over Harry's head.
Ginny smiled at Hermione and concentrated on keeping her hands in her lap.
"I..." he let out a slow breath. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." Hermione paused. "You looked lost, Harry."
He shrugged half-heartedly. "I was, I think. I heard you call out to me...I wasn't sure if you were real." He struggled to find the right words, but was only able to whisper: "Thank you."
"You'd have done the same for any one of us," Hermione said. "And you're not the only one with a 'saving people thing'."
"See?" Ginny put a hand on his arm before she thought about it, wincing as his arm twitched – but he didn't pull away.
Hermione smiled, her eyes bright with unshed tears. She looked over at Ginny and mouthed three words: 'You were right'.
Ginny smiled back.
"Who was the woman with you?" Hermione asked, trying to change trying to avoid having to talk too much about her summer.
"Gracie." His voice was strained, and he looked down at his water. He didn't want to talk about it. Not until he knew what had happened to her.
"You can tell us later. Rest, okay?" Ginny ran her fingers through his hair. "It's our turn to talk."
Harry forced a smile. "I still want to know how Hermione ended up in Little Whinging."
Hermione looked pleadingly at Ron, who shrugged helplessly. She sighed. Apparently, there were some things not even she could get out of.
I am a fool.
Albus Dumbledore sat at Molly Weasley's kitchen table and stared at the Burrow's kitchen clock, acutely aware of every second ticking away.
Time. His long fingers wrapped around his teacup. I have so much of it, yet so little to share.
How much longer could he wait? How many more seconds could he give them before he had to decide what he was going to do? He knew Harry would be safe from Voldemort at the Dursleys. He knew he could make Harry safe from the Dursleys, themselves. But, for the first time, it truly seemed the wrong decision.
How else was he supposed to keep Harry safe?
There was an idea, tugging at the back of his mind like a small child tugging at his beard. He didn't want to acknowledge it, because of what it would mean.
I have been a coward. I have hidden from the consequences of what I chose for him.
It had been easy to hide behind his position, his title – to take the role of a distant teacher. Give Harry aid, but not so much as to invest himself in the situation.
He had been afraid he would fail once again. And caught in that fear, he had failed.
My fear has cost him so much. He could very easily – and somewhat rightly – claim it was his fear of Voldemort knowing he and Harry were closer than Headmaster and pupil that had kept him from being as close to Harry as he should have been, but it was likely Voldemort assumed closeness where none existed.
His fear had almost cost them everything. His absence from Harry's life had given Voldemort the opening he needed; his reluctance to act, to use his power, had left Harry to the mercy of the Dursleys and Dolores Umbridge.
I have chosen what was easy, not what was right.
It had not started that way. His original motivations for placing Harry with the Dursleys were valid and he still felt, right.
There was no way he could have taken Harry himself, and he was the only one in the wizarding world who could have protected Harry from the Death Eaters seeking to restore their master and the dark wizards seeking to step into Voldemort's place. The Ministry would never have allowed him to raise or teach Harry – they would not have released him from the Oath. Nor would the Ministry have left Harry alone if he had been raised anywhere in the wizarding world.
The blood protections had kept Harry safe – from everyone except his family.
He had no idea what Harry's mental state was; he knew too well how much damage had been inflicted on his body. He had seen the extent of the damage and had been appalled at how much of it had happened before the Death Eater attack. He had seen the way Harry was distant with his friends, even as they tried to comfort him. They couldn't know how what Harry had gone through would affect him. There was no way for them to know.
Fate had taken everything from Harry; there was little left for Voldemort's prophesied nemesis to cling to.
How could this have happened? The Order should have been watching. They should have prevented this.
His final instructions to the Order had been clear. Harry's safety and well-being were paramount. Even if he could not leave the Dursleys, Harry was to be protected. He knew he was asking much of them; he had said as much. But he had believed them capable of it.
It disturbed Dumbledore he could not leave, even for half of a summer. He had explained to the Order the necessity of his quest, why he had to leave Harry in their care. He had trusted Severus Snape to balance out the desires of many in the Order to take Harry from the Dursleys and had hoped the rest of the Order would moderate Severus' attitudes towards Harry.
I should have been able to leave him in their care and know they would act before this happened.
If he were honest with himself, he was angry and disappointed with the Order – and very proud of Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Tonks. I cannot remain angry with them, and I cannot allow this to pass without consequence.
He was tired. He knew many saw him as a symbol, and that many in the Order saw him as a savior; the one who would defeat Voldemort. And until Harry was ready to take up the mantle of being the 'Chosen One,' he would have to remain the symbol and the savior.
I should have told him earlier. I should have prepared him better. It was painful to realize what his desire to give Harry some happiness had cost the boy, but he had only realized the depth of his error after Harry had destroyed his office.
He had found the opportunity to discuss his errors with others on his travels that summer, and had been asked a simple question: how did he know Harry would not have found happiness knowing the Prophecy?
He could have eased Harry into it, told him something of it his first year and more of it his second; he could have found ways for Harry to be trained, even if the Oath prevented him from training Harry himself.
Albus was appalled at himself. His short-sightedness had cost Sirius Black his life. I must trust Harry to defeat Voldemort, but I could not trust him with the knowledge of what was occurring around him?
If Harry had known of the Prophecy; if Harry had known why the Order was doing what they were doing, Harry might not have acted as he had.
If I had shown trust in him, then this summer might have gone differently.
Albus had not realized how his avoiding Harry would be interpreted by others. What had been done to protect Harry had caused others to doubt the boy. It had caused others to think Albus doubted the boy – which could not be farther from the truth.
That, at least, could be fixed. If Harry still trusts me at all.
With a shake of his head, Albus pulled himself from his reverie. He still had to decide what to do with Harry. But as he had seen with Harry's abortive mission to the Department of Mysteries, the right choices could only be made with the right information.
Which Albus feared he did not have.
He had spent the balance of the day seeking that information. He had checked his instruments at Hogwarts and discovered the blood protections were far weaker than they should have been. It was possible for the blood protections to be fully renewed if Harry returned to Privet Drive and kept there for the rest of the summer, but Albus found himself reluctant.
The pain and trauma Harry had experienced there was far too great to return him to his relatives. If he was right about the boy's mental state, returning there might break him.
But why were the protections so weak? Their weakness did not fit with what he knew of Harry's summer from the Order. Even though Harry spent most of his time at the gym, Dudley had been with him. The protections should have been fully renewed.
Nymphadora Tonks was almost as broken as Harry, her guilt over doing nothing was crushing her. Bill Weasley was angry and felt betrayed by the Order and Molly Weasley was no longer a member.
Most disturbing was the split he had seen. There were those who saw Harry as Severus did – an arrogant, misguided boy who was a waste of the Order's time. Then there were those who were intensely loyal to the boy and felt the Order had failed him.
If only I had been able to speak to Severus. The Potions Master was nowhere to be found – presumably, he had been called to Voldemort's side.
Finally, Albus' brief visit to the Ministry had revealed that Fudge had set one of his personal Aurors, along with a squad of Hit Wizards, to investigate the attack.
Even more, Fudge had, at the recommendation of Percy Weasley, re-activated Alastor Moody's commission to help them find Harry and – to Dumbledore's great surprise – Gracie McAllister.
It didn't surprise him Gracie had killed several of the Death Eaters. Nor did it surprise him Gracie had escaped. He would have been more surprised if the Death Eaters had managed to overcome her. It did surprise him that Cornelius Fudge wanted to find her.
To say nothing of young Percival allowing a man he knows to be loyal to me to be involved in the investigation.
Solving the puzzle of Percy Weasley would have to wait.
His mind raced through scenarios and permutations, plans within plans, subterfuges and strategies, subtle manipulations of circumstances and half-truths that could be spun, but in the end there seemed to be only one solution.
Why does this solution fill me with such trepidation? It was not fear of Voldemort or danger to himself or Harry. He was confident enough in his own power to know his solution would mean Harry would be as protected as he ever had been.
Still, there were complications. Cornelius Fudge had manipulated the legalities of the situation to make it impossible for him to keep Harry out of Ministry hands unless he was willing to make both of them fugitives. There were ways to neutralize the Minister, but he would have to be very careful.
Or remove him entirely.
He needed to get his hands on the letter Petunia had shown Hermione; it would give him the leverage he needed. But how?
The left the matter of Ginny Weasley. He did not know how she had managed to get letters through to Harry when everyone else had failed.
The vision of Voldemort she and Harry had experienced disturbed the Headmaster deeply. Even with both of them sharing a connection to Voldemort, the Dark Lord should not have been able to reach either of them, much less both, not like he had. He wasn't sure how the Dark Lord had done it, or what it meant, but he knew it boded ill.
Harry must master Occlumency. He did not or could not learn from Severus before. I hope he will try again. If he still refuses to allow Severus to teach him, I must risk teaching him myself.
But first, Harry had to recover.
A soft pop! startled him from his thoughts. A tiny figure stood before him, dressed in a poorly knitted sweater and cap, mismatched socks on his pointed feet.
"Dobby?"
The house elf nodded, looking far more nervous and anxious than Dumbledore had ever seen him. "Dobby is a free elf, yes? Dobby is not bound to any but Dobby?"
Dumbledore nodded slowly. "It is true. You are a free elf, Dobby, bound to none but yourself."
The house elf sucked in air, and squared his tiny shoulders. "Then Dobby must be talking to Professor Dumbledore, sir."
Albus nodded again, turning his full attention to Dobby. "I am listening."
Dobby stared at his feet. "Dobby has been a bad elf, Professor Dumbledore, sir. Dobby has been breaking wizard law and has been helping Harry Potter."
Taking Dumbledore's silence as acknowledgment, Dobby continued: "Dobby has been making sure Harry Potter has been getting his letters from his Miss Wheezy, and has been fixing Harry Potter's glasses. And giving Harry Potter soap." The house elf paused and looked...embarrassed? "Harry Potter is a great wizard, Professor Dumbledore sir, but even he cannot survive such a place without his Dobby."
Dumbledore sat for a long moment, sorting through the dozens of questions that sprang to mind. He chose his first question carefully, realizing he had the answers to most of his questions from this most unlikely source.
Such loyalty. Dumbledore paused and stroked his beard. "Dobby, what of other letters coming to Harry? Or other letters Harry sent?"
"Harry Potter sent letters to his friends when he first went to the muggles, but Professor Snape took them. Dobby was only able to get Harry Potter's Miss Wheezy's letters. Dobby was not fast enough to get the rest from Professor Snape."
Dumbledore nodded, but was confused. It was possible Severus had held the letters to keep Harry's friends from breaking the isolation imposed on him by Fudge, but there were other, better ways of doing that.
"Will you tell me what you saw this summer, Dobby?"
Dobby shuffled, not meeting Dumbledore's eyes. "The muggle man, Professor Dumbledore, sir. Beating Harry Potter he was, like Harry Potter was bad elf! Harry Potter was beaten every morning and every night, sir, but Dobby took care of him as much as Dobby could."
Again, Dobby's choice of words were not lost on Dumbledore. He forced his anger down, calling on over a hundred years of self-control to keep himself thinking. Like a bad elf.
It had been worse than he feared. What were Fudge and Umbridge playing at, giving the muggles leave to treat Harry that way? Why would even they have done that?
The Dursleys could have done far less to Harry and Fudge would have still been able to wrest control of Harry from me. Was it Voldemort's influence? And if so, what had Voldemort wanted to accomplish? Surely, he must have known the blood protections kept them from killing Harry?
If their treatment of him was so grave, how did he remain functional, let alone able to train? Even as he thought the question, he realized a possible answer, and it chilled him to the bone.
"Dobby, did you ever heal Harry of his injuries?"
Dobby shifted uncomfortably. "Sometimes, Dobby be healing Harry Potter, but elf healing not good for wizards. Dobby not need to heal Harry Potter much though. Harry Potter's magic kept Harry Potter from being too hurt or too tired or too hungry, and Harry Potter's Gracie helped him touch his magic."
Dumbledore blinked. Harry's magic? Is it possible? The very thought of it was frightening – the implications were almost too much for even him to grasp.
Dobby seemed on the brink of tears, but collected himself with obvious effort. "Harry Potter is in terrible danger with the Muggles! They hurt him and lock him up! The make the blood magics weak by making Harry Potter spend a night away!"
Dumbledore rocked back in his chair. A night away. They made him spend a night away. Harry merely being away from the house for a night would not have affected the wards, not this late in summer, but if the Dursleys had forced Harry to spent a night away, it would have invoked the Magic of Intention.
Which meant he had to know what the Magic of Circumstance was.
"Can you tell me where he was?"
Dobby nodded emphatically, his hat slipping askew. "Yes! The big, loud muggle uncle made Harry Potter spend last night with his Gracie! The circle of blood was broken and the Dark ones knew him. They found him and hurt him. Dobby was not powerful enough to stop them. The Dark ones were touched by the Old Lore."
There was fear in Dobby's voice; a fear that Dumbledore understood all too well. A fear he shared. The Old Lore. With even a little such power at Voldemort's command, the blood magics are the only thing that could protect Harry.
Ahh, Tom. You never cease to amaze or surprise me.
"How is it that I do not feel the circle of blood being broken?" The question was mostly to himself, but Dobby answered.
"Harry Potter is a great wizard, great enough even He Who Must Not Be Named could not survive without Harry Potter's blood!"
He sat there for a long moment, just looking at Dobby. So small. Unseen and considered insignificant. Yet, without his loyalty to Harry, the boy might not have survived the summer.
The blood was weakened, but it was enough for Voldemort to avoid breaking the protections while striking through them when they weakened.
"What else have you done, Dobby?" Dumbledore asked.
"Dobby has taken Harry Potter's things from his Gracie's to the muggle house, because Dobby heard Professor Dumbledore sir saying Harry would have to go back there."
Dumbledore wondered what Gracie thought of Harry's things vanishing from her flat and how the Dursleys would feel about Harry's things suddenly appearing in their home.
Loyal, if perhaps not as attentive to the small things as one could wish. But like Hagrid, his loyalty makes him far more valuable than he might seem.
"Dobby," Dumbledore leaned closer to the house elf, "do you wish to continue helping Harry Potter?"
The first few hours after he woke would later become some of Harry's best memories of the summer before his sixth year.
Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione spent the next few hours telling the tales of their respective summers, starting with Hermione. Although Ron had already heard about Hermione's family, Hermione hadn't told him everything. This time, she came clean, re-telling every insult, every prank and every comment.
Ron and Harry wore matching angry expressions – and the sight of her two best friends angry on her behalf went a long way to healing some of Hermione's wounds. Watching them, Ginny suddenly realized the depth of emotion running between the three, and wondered if Hermione realized just how angry her two best friends were.
"Maybe next summer we should go visit during your family reunion," Harry muttered darkly. He was so intent on being upset over how Hermione had been treated, he didn't notice Ginny running her hands through his hair.
"Good idea," Ron agreed, his voice almost a growl.
"Oh, you two!" Hermione grabbed both their hands, smiling brightly. Ginny wasn't sure Hermione realized how serious they both were about going to the family reunion.
Ron talked about re-doing the kitchen and learning to cook. Harry was looking forward to getting to see both Ron's workshop and the work he and Ginny had already done on the Burrow – Hermione was effusive in her praise of it, making Ron blush.
Ginny talked about the Order watching her, but she left out the fights with Charlie, because she wasn't ready to talk about that.
When they got to the events of that morning, Ginny took over, whispering the story of Bill's fight with the Death Eaters and of her and Harry's fight with Voldemort. From the haunted look he gave her, he remembered it all too well.
"Thanks, Gin." He looked at her a moment longer, and she nodded at him – it was a barely perceptible movement, but it was enough.
Eventually, Harry started to drift off, his head almost resting in Ginny's lap. She just smiled at him, running her fingers through his hair, enjoying the moment, and relishing the show of trust, knowing Harry wouldn't have let himself fall asleep if he didn't feel safe.
Harry had almost fallen asleep when Remus Lupin poked his head in. He smiled at the sight of Harry and Ginny.
"Professor Lupin?" Harry asked groggily, looking up at his father's friend.
"Heya, cub," Remus said. "Glad to see you're awake."
"Mostly," Harry grumbled. He let out a long, slow breath before forcing himself to sit up. "We'll be down in a couple of minutes, I guess."
Remus nodded and closed the door behind him.
"You're not going back," Ginny said, her hand grabbing his arm.
"Ginny..." He pulled away, not looking at her. "I don't think it's a choice. I'm just glad I got to see all of you. I'm honestly a bit surprised I didn't wake up in Privet Drive with a half dozen Aurors guarding my bed."
Ron grinned. "We didn't give Dumbledore much of a choice about us seeing you. Ginny'd already snuck in here. Hermione and I just followed Dumbledore around until he agreed to let us see you before he took you."
Hermione smiled over at Ron. "It was Ron's idea. If we're all here with you, it'll be harder for him to take you without us."
Ron shrugged. "Weasley thinking. Strength in numbers. I figure we go down there together, and we just don't let him chase us out. No matter what."
Harry almost laughed. Ron and Hermione agreeing on something is bad enough. Add in Ginny, and I'm not sure what will happen...
"The sooner we go down, the sooner you can get back to sleep, Harry," Hermione said gently.
Harry nodded. "All right. Let's go."
Slowly, he climbed out of bed, grateful his legs would still support him. His muscles still ached, but he found he could stand on his own this time.
Hermione was a little surprised how fast Harry was recovering his strength. She wasn't a healer, but she had read a lot about magical healing. Harry should have been weak as a kitten, not ready to walk down the stairs, albeit shakily. To say nothing of glowing in the dark.
Looking a little embarrassed as he realized he was dressed in just his training pants, Harry glanced around. "Er...anyone seen my shirt?"
Ron shook his head. "Sorry mate, but it was a lost cause. You're lucky you're not starkers – you were in a bad way."
"So I hear," Harry muttered dryly.
He followed them out the door, blinking as the brighter light assaulted his eyes. Hermione went in front of him, and Ron helped support him down the stairs. Ginny was behind him, but every few steps her fingertips would graze his back.
At the foot of the stairs, Molly Weasley rushed over to him, catching him in one of her infamous smothering hugs. For the first time, Harry hugged her back, letting her hold on for a moment. For once, it felt good just to be held and protected.
After a moment, she pulled back, and looked at him. "How are you, dear?"
Harry's smile was slightly forced. "Better, now that I'm here...but I should talk to Dumbledore."
"If you must." There was a sour expression on her face as she helped him sit in one of the chairs next to the table.
Harry let out a slow breath as he sat down, taking a moment to look around at the kitchen. Hermione had been right – Ron had done good work. The cabinets and counters were now the color of dark honey, matching the re-done baseboards and re-finished table and chairs. The floor gleamed – only the battered sink and stove remained to remind him of what the kitchen used to look like.
He also couldn't help but notice that the remodeled kitchen was very crowded right then. Fleur and Charlie were sitting so close to each other they were almost sharing a chair, holding hands – when did that happen? – next to Arthur Weasley. Molly had taken a seat across from her husband, next to Kingsley Shacklebolt. Bill was standing in the corner farthest away from Fleur and Charlie. Tonks was next to him, leaning against his shoulder, and Remus was in the opposite corner.
"Nice work, Ron."
"Thanks," Ron said from the doorway, where he, Hermione and Ginny stood, their eyes fixed on the Headmaster.
I should help Ron out...pay for supplies, buy them the things he can't fix...
Tonks smiled weakly at him. "Wotcher, Harry."
Harry smiled back. "Wotcher, Tonks."
There was something strange in the Auror's eyes, something he couldn't quite place. It looked like guilt, but he didn't know why she would be feeling guilty.
Maybe because they're sending me back to the Dursleys?
Harry turned to his mentor, unsure of what to say, of how to explain how he came to be at the Burrow when he should have been at Privet Drive.
"I..." Again, Harry had to force the words out. He could feel Charlie and Fleur staring at him, their eyes trying to find something he couldn't name. "I owe you an apology for your office."
It was hard to say in front of the others, but he needed to say it anyway. This was the first time he'd spoken to the Headmaster since that night. I won't forget what Gracie taught me. I won't.
"None needed, Harry. I daresay I deserved quite a bit more than that."
Relief washed over him; Dumbledore didn't seem mad at him. Teacher and student looked at each other a moment longer – their relationship was far from mended, but they were both at least willing to try. They didn't have a choice.
Uncomfortable with everyone staring at him, Harry started to try to stand. He was going to face the Order on his feet, no matter how weak he was.
Never let them see you weak. It was a lesson he'd learned well growing up and one Hogwarts had reinforced.
Dumbledore held up his hand, and Harry saw he was smiling. "Sit for a moment, Harry. You have been through quite an ordeal."
He sagged back into the chair. "I'll be all right though, now." He looked over his shoulder at his friends.
"Yes, I believe you will be." He folded his hands in front of himself. "Most of the injuries you sustained at the hands of the Death Eaters have been healed, though there are a great many old injuries we could not heal yet."
At Harry's surprised – and guilty – look Dumbledore simple smiled again. "I am now aware of much of your summer, Harry, and I know it has been...difficult for you. I have been away, searching for answers to many questions." To Harry's surprise, Dumbledore looked slightly uncomfortable. "Even so, it would have been very difficult to intervene due to Ministry concerns."
Harry and Dumbledore shared a look, and Harry nodded. "I've been informed, sir."
"Ahh, yes." Dumbledore nodded. "I understand Undersecretary Umbridge paid a visit to the Dursleys?"
"She did," Harry answered. "She paid them a lot of money."
"Yes." Dumbledore sighed. "She played to their weaknesses, to manipulate them into treating you even more poorly than is their custom. If you were to be rescued by any member of the Order or anyone associated with the Order, Cornelius Fudge would be legally able to remove you from their custody, name you a ward of the state, and place you under the care of any he so chose, such as orphanages or foster care."
Harry wanted to sink through the floor. "So if you rescued me, I'd be his prisoner instead of yours?" He practically spat the bitter words.
Dumbledore almost winced. "Yes." The headmaster let the silence sit for a heartbeat. "The Minister would aim to prevent you from encountering undue danger, such as you have encountered in the past."
Harry took a deep breath and forced himself to think things through. If I were 'protected' by Fudge I couldn't protect my friends. I couldn't face him...he would be able to come to me. I would have no protection from him.
It was a chilling thought.
As long as I'm alive, I can fight Voldemort.
As long as the Dursleys weren't going to kill him, it was too great a risk for him to fall into Ministry hands. Was that why the Order had let the Dursleys do what they'd done?
I'm the only one who can defeat him. It was harder to accept each time he thought it. But am I the only one who can stop him?
"So what does me being here mean?"
"You left of your own volition, with no coercion or involvement on my part. You were attacked, despite Ministry protection and took yourself, under your own power, to a place of safety. There is nothing Cornelius Fudge can say or do."
Harry felt a sense of relief, but still had one other question: "What about the magic I cast?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "Undetectable. The Death Eaters set a trap for you, including casting wards to prevent the Ministry from knowing magic was in use."
"How did they set up the trap?" Hermione asked.
"When Vernon Dursley forced Harry to spend a night away from the Dursleys, Voldemort was able to get the location of the gym from Harry's mind, and sent his Death Eaters to capture Harry." He looked right at Harry. "We are lucky the Death Eaters were sent to torture and break you, not kill you. The few we were able to interrogate were quite clear on that point."
Several people in the room flinched at the Dark Lord's name.
"Makes sense," Harry spat. "The bastard doesn't want to face me, not until I'm weak enough I can't fight him."
"Unfortunately, yes. However, Voldemort did not count on you being able to escape his Death Eaters, nor did he expect the level of protection we have placed around the Burrow."
Harry nodded, remembering what Ginny and Ron had said about Bill fighting the Death Eaters.
"William and Charlie both had placed wards here when they first arrived this summer, and when William felt those wards being tested first as you came through and then again when the Death Eaters arrived. He proved far more than a match for the Death Eaters. Thanks to Miss Granger's missive, I was able to get here in time to drive the Dementors away as you and Miss Weasley were able to defeat Lord Voldemort."
There was a brief stir as Dumbledore said the name again.
"However, the ease with which they found you without the blood protections is all the more reason for you to return to Privet Drive for the rest of the summer."
Harry's shoulders slumped, and he sagged into the chair. He hadn't wanted to admit it to himself, but he had started to hope he wouldn't have to go back. I should have known better.
Most of those gathered were silent from shock and anger. Fleur and Charlie looked satisfied, while Molly looked like she was going to leap between Harry and Dumbledore. Ginny's mouth worked, but no sound came out. Ron and Hermione both took a step into the kitchen.
Harry forced himself to first sit up straight, and then stand. He swayed on his feet, dizzy and lightheaded. He gripped the back of his chair to keep from falling, praying silently Dumbledore had an easier way of traveling than Portkey or Floo powder. "I guess I'm ready when you are."
"So are we," Ron drawled, walking up to stand next to Harry. He grinned back at his mother. "Have Tonks bring my stuff when she goes on duty?"
Molly nodded. "Certainly, dear. I'll send her with some food, too, and things for Ginny and Hermione. I doubt Harry's aunt will want to fix dinner at this hour."
Hermione and Ginny were on either side of him, both gripping one of his hands; Ron had stepped in front of Harry.
"I do not think that will be necessary, Mister Weasley." Dumbledore smiled kindly at Ron, who didn't budge.
"Harry will be staying here, then?" Molly asked in a voice that dared Dumbledore to argue with her.
Harry looked up at her pleadingly before Dumbledore could answer. "Mrs Weasley, please don't make this any harder than it already is."
Mrs Weasley looked over at Harry. "Harry, dear, do you want to go back?"
Harry stood there silent for a long moment before looking at the floor. "No. But what I want doesn't have anything to do with this."
Molly's lips tightened into a thin line.
"Why?" Ginny stood in front of Dumbledore. "Why does he have to go back there? Do you just like letting him get beat on?"
"Easy one, imp." Bill slipped between Dumbledore and Ron, brandishing an empty tea mug. "Professor Dumbledore has set a very powerful and very complex blood-affinity protection charm on Harry. Specifically, it protects him against You Know Who." He walked over to the stove, frowning at the empty tea kettle. "I'd wager it's a set-spell. It fades with time and needs a certain amount of exposure to direct blood relations to recharge and stabilize the protections."
To everyone's surprise, Dumbledore, seemingly very amused by the entire display. "Very good, William."
Bill conjured water from his wand into the tea kettle and lit a fire under the kettle. "I also imagine that you don't interfere much at all to keep from drawing attention to him. He is reporter-free and fame-free all summer long...but if Albus Dumbledore, or anyone associated with him spent too much time around a house in an all-muggle neighborhood in Surrey, someone would be bound to notice."
Dumbledore nodded. "Again, you are quite correct, William."
"Damn straight I am, old man." Everyone in the room blinked at Bill's flippant attitude. "And I'm also right about this: Harry going back won't matter one whit."
Dumbledore looked at Bill long and hard. "Please, William, explain."
Bill sat down, waiting for the tea to steep. "I won't let you take Harry out of this house. Your wards around him are failing – my wards around the Burrow won't break as easily as what's left of the brittle blood magic around Harry, and even if you send him back, the wards won't recharge."
"Why is that?" Dumbledore asked lightly, his eyes twinkling brighter than ever.
"Simple." Bill answered a second time. "For Merlin's sake, old man, let Harry sit down before he drops."
Dumbledore nodded to Harry. Grateful, Harry sat. Ginny and Hermione were still holding onto him.
"Go on, William." Dumbledore too sat back down. "I have recently been made aware I have something of a blind spot when it comes to Harry."
Bill waved his wand, levitating the teapot over to him. He poured himself a cup, and raised an eyebrow at Dumbledore.
"Please." The Headmaster flicked his wand, conjuring a cup with the Hogwarts crest on it.
Harry was so confused he found himself thinking how nice it was magic made making tea such a fast endeavor.
Bill poured a cup of tea for Dumbledore, and levitated the teapot back to the stove. Everyone waited in silence.
Bill looked straight at Dumbledore. "If you try to take him back to Privet Drive, I will break what's left of the blood protections on him."
"Any why," Dumbledore asked mildly, sounding rather pleased, "would you do such a thing when you know it would put Harry in quite a bit of danger?"
Bill took a sip of tea. "Because he would be in more danger going back to Privet Drive than if I broke the protections and he stayed here."
"You sound quite sure of this," Dumbledore said softly, staring hard at Bill. He was obviously waiting for something. "Why?"
"Are you telling me you don't know what goes on there?" Bill asked. "Are you telling me you don't know Harry's uncle has spent the summer beating him? Starving him?"
Many of those gathered looked at Harry in shock. Tonks looked guilty. Molly, Ron, Ginny and Hermione all looked between Harry and Dumbledore determinedly. Kingsley looked thoughtful.
"I am all too aware of those things," Dumbledore answered, his voice taking a slightly cold edge.
"Then...why are you making him go back?" Hermione asked.
"I had no intention of taking Harry back tonight," Dumbledore answered. "Nor any other night. Harry will not be returning to Privet Drive."
Everything seemed to happen at once.
Harry sagged in relief, wincing as Hermione and Ginny hugged him.
Molly was smiling and crying, and Bill was looking like someone hit him with a board. "He's not?"
Charlie leapt to his feet. "If he stays here, wouldn't that put all of us – the Order – in danger?"
Fleur looked terrified.
Dumbledore waited a moment for the commotion to pass. "I am gratified to see the love and support Harry has, but I had no intention of returning Harry to Privet Drive. Ronald and Ginevra convinced me of that earlier today."
Ron and Ginny grinned at each other proudly, and Molly rushed over to hug both of her children. Just for good measure, she gave Harry and Hermione hugs, too.
"And I assure you," Dumbledore's tone took on a dark edge, "the Dursleys will be dealt with." He paused to take a sip of tea. "However, I am very disturbed by what has occurred this summer while I was away."
The Headmaster's eyes swept the room, and more than a few present were quite pleased when they saw Charlie and Fleur squirm uncomfortably at the sense of power and purpose radiating off Dumbledore. "My parting instructions were very clear. Harry Potter was to be protected at all costs. I am aware of the difficult line I asked you to walk and of how much risk you would be in if it became necessary to defy Fudge. However, if the Order was aware of the abuse Harry was suffering, no matter the difficulty of interference, a way should have been found to protect him. I am gravely disappointed only Miss Granger was willing to contact me when things with Harry became as bad as they were. Had I known, something would have been done."
"But I didn't know how bad things were, Professor," Hermione said. "All I knew was Ginny was worried."
"Your faith in your friend was well-founded, Hermione," Dumbledore answered. When his eyes met Hermione's, she felt a surge of confidence. "As my faith in making you a member of the Order was well-founded."
"What were we supposed to do? Challenge Fudge directly? Make Harry and whoever rescued him a fugitive?" Charlie asked. "He would have been real safe that way."
Dumbledore smiled, and there was something in the expression that made blood run cold. "Not even Cornelius Fudge would dare to challenge me directly, if I were to bring evidence before the Wizengamot he had a hand in the abuse of any child. Which, I firmly intend on doing. Cornelius has gone too far, and had I not had been forced to be elsewhere earlier this summer, I would have already taken steps to remove him as Minister."
Bill looked at Dumbledore. "I did try to do something, and was told by Snape and Shacklebolt not to interfere. That my 'bias' concerning Harry was interfering with my judgment. Tonks was informed if she interfered, she would be removed from guard duty! Snape did remove her, when Hermione got here yesterday!"
Dumbledore frowned. "And what of the rest of you?"
"I wasn't told!" Molly yelled. "I wasn't told anything! I quit the Order, Albus Dumbledore, because I refuse to be part of anything that allows what has happened to these children to happen! I didn't know he was being hurt until last night!"
"I admire your decision, Molly," Dumbledore said, suddenly looking old and worn. "But this will have to be addressed with the Order as a whole."
Harry couldn't believe what they were discussing. If most of the Order didn't know, then what about my glasses? Or the soap? Does that mean they weren't ignoring me?
He was still mortified that any of them knew how weak he had been. How helpless he'd been against his uncle, while Voldemort had raped his mind night after night.
"You didn't have to do that for me, Mrs Weasley," Harry said, still looking at the floor. "It's not as bad as all that. If not for the attack, I would have gone to Hogwarts and no one would have had to know."
Molly walked around the table to look at Harry. "Harry, dear, look at me."
Harry forced himself to look into her eyes. He fought hard for control of himself, but he still flinched when she put her hands on the side of his face.
"Harry Potter, it is not your fault. You have no reason for shame. No reason at all. You did not deserve it. Your aunt and uncle were wrong, Harry." She looked up at Dumbledore. "Albus, we need to finalize plans for Harry. Order business, even this business, can wait."
"Very well," Dumbledore stood, vanishing his cup with a wave of his wand. "Harry, you and I shall have to speak at length sometime very soon. But Molly is correct. You need to rest. You will be able remain here for a day or two at most, but something else must be arranged. Charlie was right about the danger."
Harry just nodded.
Dumbledore stood. "William, would you do me the courtesy of a few minutes of your time? I believe I have need of your particular insight."
Bill shook his head. "Not mine, Professor. Theirs. I just played off something my sister hinted at earlier." He gestured to the three teenagers huddled around Harry's chair.
Dumbledore smiled, the twinkle back in his eyes. "Please, William, I have not been your Professor for several years. I think I prefer 'old man'."
Bill grinned. "Fair enough, old man."
Dumbledore nodded. "Very well then. Is there anything else?"
Molly, looking rather proud of her children, nodded. "Harry's things, Albus."
He paused. "I shall have Minerva collect them."
Ginny shook her head. "I think one of us should go. We know what he'd want."
Dumbledore sighed, and then smiled. "Of course. You and your brother," he gestured to Ron, "will accompany Remus Lupin or Miss Tonks."
"I'll do it," Tonks volunteered quickly.
"Very well," Dumbledore nodded. "Once I am finished with William, you may go. For now, you, Remus and Charlie are on guard duty. William will relieve you when he and I are finished. I want three on watch at all times."
Charlie, Remus and Tonks all nodded to Dumbledore and headed out of the kitchen. Fleur, looking very confused and very lost, wandered after Charlie.
Arthur Weasley stood and smiled at Harry. "I am very glad to have you here, Harry. But I think I will leave you in the capable hands of my wife and children and sleep. I do have work in the morning."
"Thank you, Mr Weasley," Harry said faintly, still trying to catch up with what was happening. After Arthur had kissed his wife and daughter goodnight and left the kitchen, Harry looked up at Dumbledore in confusion.
"Professor," Harry asked quietly, "if no one from the Order helped me, then who fixed my glasses and brought me the letters from Ginny?"
Dumbledore smiled. "A most loyal and caring friend risked much to help you."
If anything, Harry was even more confused.
"You have the eternal admiration of a certain house elf. Somehow, he knew to see to you this summer. He did what he could. Please do not be angry he did not do more."
Harry shook his head. Why would he be mad? He was just confused that Dobby had helped him in the first place.
Ron and Hermione shared a knowing look. Ginny was lost. Who was Dumbledore talking about?
"Dobby," Dumbledore told Ginny, "is the former Malfoy house elf Harry set free his second year. He was of some assistance to Harry in solving the mystery of the Chamber of Secrets, as I recall."
"Oh. Right," Ginny said uneasily, not sure she wanted the discussion to turn to the Chamber, or her role in it.
Dumbledore met her eyes and sighed. "I owe you yet another apology, Miss Weasley. I gave the Order instructions to watch over you this summer and look for signs Tom was attempting to enter your mind. I asked them to do so for your protection and your safety, not because I suspected you were a danger to us. They did not do as I asked, and for that, I apologize."
Ginny shrugged, trying not to be upset. "Thank you, Professor."
Dumbledore turned to Ron. "I owe you an apology as well, Mr Weasley. I did not treat you as well as you deserved this afternoon, and for that I am sorry."
Ron, a bit overwhelmed at being apologized to by Albus Dumbledore, just swallowed and nodded. "No worries, Professor."
Finally, Dumbledore turned to Harry.
"Harry," Dumbledore gave him a pointed look. "Do not blame yourself for what has happened. To you, or to others. And Harry, Dobby took the liberty of moving your things from Gracie's to Privet Drive. Nothing she gave you is lost."
Harry nodded, relieved once again. Though how the Headmaster knew Gracie had bought anything for him when he hadn't known Harry had been with Gracie was confusing.
Then again...it is Dumbledore.
Mrs Weasley smiled, and stood up to walk Dumbledore out. "Thank you, Albus. Now, then, you and I need to have a brief word about tomorrow..."
Harry sat in his chair in shock as the door closed behind Molly and Albus.
He was staying with the Weasleys. He didn't have to go back to Privet Drive. Possibly not ever again.
Strangely enough, he found he had mixed feelings about that. He and Dudley...they had almost connected.
And they are my last blood relations. The last connection to my parents, except Dumbledore and Remus Lupin.
He stared at the fire under the teapot, focusing on the flame, trying to feed his emotions back into it, letting the fire devour the pain, letting the void leap into being.
Hermione looked at Bill. "What would have happened if you had broken the blood protections?"
Bill set down his teacup. "Do you want an honest answer? I'm not sure you'll much like it."
"Please," Ginny said. "I've always accepted what you say, even if I don't like it."
Bill looked to the other three. "Can the rest of you agree to that?"
They all nodded.
"Harry would have been in worse shape than he is now. Breaking the charm would have hurt him...badly. Such blood magics are powerful. Even if he never sees his relatives again, that blood-magic will always be a part of him."
The silence was deafening.
"How? Why?" Hermione asked. "If it protected him, even a little, then why break it? I mean, what if you were wrong, wouldn't the best place for Harry be with his relatives? He wouldn't have gone back alone, after all."
Bill looked at Hermione. "You an only child?"
"Yes, why?" Hermione was getting exasperated.
"It's nature versus nurture. I agree with Mum. I don't think it's worth protecting Harry against You Know Who if we break him in the process."
Harry was starting to get very uncomfortable, but forced himself to remain inside the emptiness.
"You would have dueled Dumbledore, wouldn't you?" Ron asked, incredulous. He looked like he wasn't sure if he was proud of his older brother or thought he was mad. Or both.
"No." Bill shook his head. "I would have broken the charm. But considering the situation, you three – Ron, Ginny, Hermione – would have had to decide which side to take."
All three looked at each other. There was no question where they stood.
"But I want you to understand," Bill said, "that I don't think Dumbledore is wrong, or that he wants to see Harry hurt. In fact, I think he cares about Harry as much as the rest of us...as much as Mum, if that's possible. He did what he did to protect Harry from the nature – and nurture – of the wizarding world."
"I think I'm missing something," Ron said. "You're talking as if Dumbledore's spell was flawed."
"It was," Bill said, starting to explain, but even as he opened his mouth, Hermione spoke, her voice both terrified and shocked.
"V-voldemort! He used Harry's blood to bring himself back!"
Blood of my enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe...
Harry stared incredulously at Hermione.
Bill nodded. "Exactly that, but it's very complex. Blood-affinity charms are reinforced both through the nature of the spell – the relation of blood between Harry and his..."
Bill looked to Harry.
"Aunt. Aunt Petunia was my Mum's sister."
Bill nodded. "The relation of blood between Harry and his aunt. The nature of the blood provides the protection from the physical magics and many of the magics of intention. But if you involve circumstance, and the ephemeral, or abstract powers?"
"Then, of course," Hermione spoke slowly, "the spell must be reinforced by the nurture of the blood affinity through the magic of intention. His Aunt wished him harm, so the protection was weakened."
"What does that have to do to with anything?" Ron asked. "How is what his relatives feel about him relevant?"
Hermione sighed and crossed her arms across her chest. "Magic is governed by intention and circumstance. Dumbledore intended to protect Harry from V-Voldemort with the spell. Harry's Aunt's intentions are part of the circumstances of the spell; when Voldemort took Harry's blood, he made himself part of the spell. Now, because Petunia's intentions towards Harry match Voldemort's intentions – Dumbledore's spell can't hold. If only one of them wanted to hurt them, the spell would have been fine."
Ron still looked confused, but Ginny translated. "You Know Who hates Harry. Petunia hates Harry. Dumbledore's spell counted on Petunia not wanting him dead. Circumstances changed, and she does. Spell fails."
"Oh," Ron muttered.
"But wouldn't Dumbledore know all that?" Ginny asked.
"I'd imagine so, but I don't think Dumbledore knew about what was going on this summer. I don't think he ever dreamed the Dursleys would want to hurt Harry they way they have."
The look on Ginny's face was unreadable.
Harry winced. I guess Dumbledore wasn't watching me very closely when I was at home before Hogwarts.
Hermione nodded slightly, sitting, lost in thought. Bill stood, and put his teacup in the sink. He walked out, and Ginny cursed under her breath, going over to turn off the stove.
Harry sighed. He was starting to get tired, and he wanted to tell them what to get from Privet Drive before he fell asleep.
"Ginny? Ron?"
"Yeah, mate?" Ron asked, looking at Harry quizzically.
"Do me a favor, when you head over to my Aunt and Uncle's? Tell Dudley I'm all right – and that he was brilliant. That he isn't what he's afraid he is."
Ron coughed, looking a little uncomfortable. "Uh, Harry? Maybe you ought to write the bloke a letter? And since when did we like your cousin? Thought he was a git worse than Malfoy."
Harry shrugged. "People change. Dudley did. He saved my life this morning."
Was it really just this morning?
He looked over a Hermione. "Any spare parchment and quills, 'Mione?"
She started to look affronted at the assumption that of course, she would have extra ink and quills, then laughed. "Yeah, sure, Harry."
To no one's surprise, Hermione produced a bit of parchment and a pre-inked quill from somewhere on her person.
He wrote a quick letter to Dudley, surprising himself a bit with some of what he had to say.
Still, it has to be said.
He rolled up the parchment, and sealed it with a bit of wax from a nearby candle.
I have to tell them. They'll find out when they get there. He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.
"Everything's down in the cupboard under the stairs. If you have to leave everything else, be sure to get the black backpack and the shopping bags with it. Please."
Ron and Ginny looked at each other in confusion. "Sure 'nuf, but what's so special about that backpack?"
Harry forced back a rush of emotion, shaking his head. Until the moment the question had left his mouth, he hadn't realized how much Gracie – and her gifts – had meant to him.
Damn...I wish there was a way to get word to her. She'll be worried...and I owe her so much.
"It's a gift from a friend." He spoke softly, still staring at the fire. "I owe her a great deal."
"That woman I saw you with outside the gym? Gracie?" Hermione looked at him curiously.
Harry nodded. "Yeah. Gracie McAllister. She took care of me this summer."
Ginny smiled, and rested her hand on Harry's arm. "I'm glad someone did."
Harry nodded, looking a bit lost. "So am I."
Molly came back into the kitchen soon after Bill left, and insisted on feeding all of them at least a light supper. Despite being hungry, Harry found he was having trouble staying awake, and almost passed out into his salad.
"Come on, you." Ginny tugged at his arm. "Let's get you back into bed."
Groggily, Harry carefully stood to follow Ginny, blinking his eyes. I guess I'm more tired than I thought.
Hermione started to go with them, but Ron grabbed her wrist and shook his head. She tried to pull away, but Ron gently held her back until Harry and Ginny had started up the stairs.
"No. They need a moment to themselves."
Hermione yanked her hand away – this time Ron let go – and scowled. "A moment to themselves?"
"Yeah. That," Ron said calmly. "They've been writing to each other all summer, and I don't think they've ever been alone with each other before, at least while Harry was conscious. How can Ginny even have a chance if they can't even have a moment to themselves?"
"Have a chance? Ron, are you daft? Your sister is obsessed with Harry!"
Ron shrugged and sat back down, dragging the remains of Harry's dinner in front of him. "Maybe. I dunno. She's my sister. She likes him. He's my friend. He's lonely in a way we can't fix. Either things get buggered because she couldn't try or things get buggered because she did. At least this way, they both might be happier."
Hermione sat down next to him. "I think I liked it better when you had the emotional range of a teaspoon."
Ron grinned at her. "Maybe it's a big teaspoon."
Hermione glowered. "Ron, a teaspoon is a standard size. It can't be a 'big' teaspoon or a 'little' teaspoon."
Ron chewed thoughtfully. "Why not? Giants might have teaspoons. They'd be bigger, wouldn't they? Or house elf teaspoons. They'd be smaller."
Hermione muttered something under her breath.
Ron grinned and brandished his salad fork triumphantly. "Ha! I did it! You have nothing to say to that! I finally out-logicked you!" He stood up, still brandishing his salad fork. "Just wait until I tell Harry and Ginny!"
"You can't," Hermione said smugly, crossing her arms.
"Why not?" Ron said, looking slightly deflated.
"Because they're having a moment to themselves."
"Oh. Right." Ron sat down to finish Harry's dinner.
Ginny didn't bother to re-light the candles in Ron's room; slender filaments of light from the full moon slid between the curtains, casting the room in wavering dappled shadows, giving just enough light to see by. Harry had made it up the stairs without her help and into bed without her help, but she wasn't ready to leave.
She still wasn't sure he was going to be there in the morning. She paused, just a step away from the bed. He was painfully thin; she could count his ribs. He was still covered in bruises, half-healed burns and welts that stood out against his pale skin.
He almost died today. He almost died in my arms today.
She blinked, surprised to feel the sting of tears.
She silently passed him a tray of potions he needed to take. There were quite a few of them, all labeled with labels magicked so they could be read in the dark. The Phoenix Tears potion, pain potion, Blood Replenishing potion, a potion to help with the malnutrition and dehydration, potions for bruising and muscle repair; the list seemed to go on and on.
He drank each one quickly, almost violently, screwing up his face at the taste. Finally finished, he let her hand him a glass of water to wash them all down with.
She stepped away to put the tray and empty water cup back on Ron's desk.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her watch him. He forced his eyes to focus as best they could.
She was standing in streams of moonlight, her waist-length hair pouring like a halo of liquid fire around her. Her pale skin seemed to almost glow as she looked at him. Dressed in a pair of small shorts and a tank top, there was more of that glowing pale skin exposed than he was used to seeing on any girl, much less Ginny.
And he saw blood on her legs and on her shirt.
His blood.
"Ginny? Are you all right?"
She blinked at him. He was sitting there, only just recovering from nearly having died – again – and he was asking her if she were all right.
But she saw the honest concern in his eyes. It took a second to realize what she had, but once she became aware she had looked into his eyes, she knew she was in trouble. The moonlight made his bright green eyes seem to shimmer with an inner light that caught her and tried to steal her breath.
"No. I'm not." She choked the words out around a lump in her throat. She stared at her hands. "This morning was...I don't know. It was awful. Worse than anything else that's happened to us. To any of us. Even Dad last year. You appeared, out of nowhere, with that stag...and then the Death Eaters and the Dementors came. Bill fought off the Death Eaters and held the Dementors back until Dumbledore arrived."
Ginny was looking at him, but her eyes and face were unreadable. "You didn't tell us. You didn't tell me. You promised me, just like I promised you. That you'd tell me! You wouldn't protect me!" She stepped forward, and he could see the anger in her eyes. "They were killing you by bits and you were just going to bloody well let them, and damn the rest of us!"
Harry shrugged. "Yeah. Pretty much."
She couldn't believe him! He had promised! And he was just shrugging away what had happened to him, as if it didn't matter?
He didn't see it coming; her hand was a blur. His face stung, and he flinched, pulling away. He closed his eyes and bowed his head.
"Oh god, Harry, I'm sorry..." He heard the tears in her voice, but he didn't look up. "Please..." she whispered. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...I'm just...oh god, please look at me!"
He looked up and forced a smile. "It's okay, Gin. It really is."
She was shaking her head. "No, it's not...I can't believe I did that..."
"No." He reached out and took her hand in both of his, tugging slightly until she was standing in front of him. "No. It's okay. I'm okay."
His eyes betrayed the lie.
She looked away from him, tears streaming down her face. She felt like she'd been stabbed in the gut as the fragile trust they'd built crumbled. What did I do? Why did I do that? It was as if it hadn't been her moving her hand.
"Ginny." She heard his voice. It was quiet, but there was the same strength in it she'd come to associate with him. "Look at me."
She forced herself to look up, hyper-aware of his hands holding hers.
"It's okay." Had he leaned closer to her, or had she moved forward? "I'd be some kind of hypocrite if I got mad at you for being mad at me for hiding something from you."
"But...I..."
His eyes seemed to stare through her. "You're forgiven."
Her fingers curled around his. "Why didn't you say anything? You wrote all those letters..."
He forced himself not to look away, but let go of her hand. "I didn't know how to say it. Or if it would mean anything...I had to stay there. I really did. I didn't have a choice." He wasn't sure if he was trying to convince her, or himself. "I wasn't trying to hide it...not on purpose. I just didn't know what to do about it."
Her hand reached up to touch the red spot where she'd slapped him. Slowly, as if not realizing what she was doing, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek softly.
He smiled, for real this time. As her hand started to pull away, he reached up and gently grabbed her wrist, forcing her to stay close to him. He wanted to reach out his other arm, put it around her waist and draw her close – but he didn't. He didn't know if he should.
It only took him a second to realize what was going on in his head. He could even pinpoint how it happened. He knew part of what he was feeling was because he was weak, and Ginny was there, offering the affection he desperately craved. He was also dizzy, his thought fogged by the pain potion. But there was something more there – something akin to what he'd felt for Cho Chang, but it was something that ran much deeper. It was almost as if it were a different feeling entirely.
But it doesn't matter. She wants to be with Dean Thomas. She's Ron's little sister, and I'm half-delirious. And there's the Prophecy. The bloody Prophecy.
He felt himself start to pull away.
"No. Don't close up on me!" Ginny reached out desperately, and had a hand on his shoulder; the feel of her skin on his was enough to give him gooseflesh. He flinched again, but he reached up and put his hand over hers before she could pull away.
"Please...I'm just...I don't know..."
She scooted even closer to him, so close their bodies were almost touching. "No one's ever really touched you, have they?"
He shook his head, his voice raspy. "Not like this, no."
Tentatively, Ginny's arm slid around his waist; the feeling of her skin against his was wonderful, so warm and so soft...his stomach did flip-flops. He felt himself tense, but he didn't pull away, no matter how strong his gut instinct told him to.
This time, he did slide his arm around her waist, hesitantly keeping her close to him. It seemed the right thing to do. She was a blur in the moonlight, bright red and pale. She seemed so small, so delicate this close to him.
"I have no idea what I'm doing," he murmured. "Just so you know."
Ginny smiled at him, her hand brushing his hair away from his eyes. He didn't flinch his time. "You're holding a girl. Don't tell me the great Harry Potter hasn't ever held a girl before?"
He swallowed. "I think this is a first."
She moved even closer, so the fabric of her shirt brushed the skin of his chest. She could feel him trembling, skittish. "It's not a bad thing, is it?"
He heard the note of pleading in her voice. "No, I guess not," he rasped. "I'm just not sure why I'm doing it. Or that I should be."
Ginny's other arm wrapped around his waist. "Comfort. There doesn't have to be any reason but that, Harry. You deserve a bit of comfort every now and again."
Part of him wanted to jerk away and hide, keep her from getting too close.
"Is...is that all this is?" He was frustrated to hear his voice croak. Part of him wanted to just pull her against him and revel in the feel of her, of someone close.
She froze. She could lie. She could tell him she was over him. That this was only friendship, only comfort.
I promised. If nothing else, I will give him the truth. If no one else will, I will.
"Not from me," Ginny answered. "But I think you know that by now."
He drew in a sharp breath. "I don't know how I feel, Ginny. I like you, as a friend, if nothing more. But...I'm not myself. Tomorrow, I might regret letting myself do this. Letting myself hold you."
Her hand stroked his back, marveling at the feel of the muscles she'd never noticed before. "I'm not asking for anything from you. Nothing at all. You give me what you can, even if that is nothing at all. Just..." it was her turn for her voice to croak, "please don't ignore me anymore."
"I won't." He relaxed ever so slightly, letting her lean against him. He was still shaky, still afraid. But he would give her this much, even if it was all he could give.
Ginny sank into his embrace, letting herself enjoy the moment for what it was. It was all she could do.
End Chapter
Posted 03-09-08
Revised 08-17-08
