What Remains

Tommy14's prompt: I can imagine Dumbledore visiting to try to put Harry back at the Dursleys. It would be interesting to hear Harry call him on his manipulations and half truths.

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Harry is his Papa's son, and so when someone knocks on the door and he is just back from his First Year's summer his curiosity to answer the door gets the best of him. He is eleven (almost twelve) and feels no danger in answering a door, or in opening a book.

Hermione might disagree, but she is Dada's niece and Papa has muttered that Dada was the immovable object to a Holmes's unstoppable force. Harry is a Potter, not a Holmes, or a Watson – he is a part of both, but blood of neither. So he answers the door (as a Holmes would), and recognize who stands white haired and robed in purple with silver stars and a wizard's hat tilting sideways, on the threshold and doesn't open the door wider to invite him in (as no Watson would, despite the mystery of it).

"Headmaster…." Harry is surprised, somehow, he had thought the matter settled of where Harry spent his summers – Mycroft had certainly told Sherlock that was so. Harry likes Hogwarts, as a school it's brilliant and there is none better – but home, home is better. Harry can be himself at home, not a hero.

"Harry, may I come in?" Dumbledore asks, but Harry is already shaking his head to deny him.

"No, why would I? Severus is home, but he's hardly well – sick with something, makes him terribly irritable. He wouldn't want any position you might offer him at Hogwarts today, or tomorrow – I'd think it'd be safer to Floo or Owl ahead next time you want to talk to him. Hermione is at her home, not here – and I can't think why you'd visit her, either. My Papa is away with Dada to the Museum, the Parthenon Marbles are plotting a way home to Greece again and Mycroft says they simply can't go without notice like that, but they are goddesses and gods – and Greek – so think they go where they will, and honestly there is very little to stop them once they get a idea like that going I think." Harry knows very well that he has a way with words, Hermione is quiet in her bookish ways, but Harry – Harry would babble it all away if he wanted… just to get and keep the upper hand.

"Are you are home alone then, Harry?" Headmaster Albus Dumbledore asks, and Harry smiles as if he isn't aware of what Albus is really asking – inside his head Harry notices the pieces to why his Headmaster is here are falling into proper place. If Albus, the Headmaster of Hogwarts can write to the Ministry saying that Harry would be under better guardianship at Hogwart's proper than his own home, well – Harry would find himself put there, for his own good. It's something that Harry will not let happen.

"Why, not at all Headmaster, I didn't say that – weren't you listening? Severus is watching over me, of course - sick doesn't mean he's obtuse. Mrs. Hudson is making lunch soon, was there something you wanted, sir?" Harry smiles up at Albus, because being young doesn't make Harry stupid either.

"Well, I recall you are an orphan Harry - and I remember that time in my life when I was young and without a parent was very troubling and I would not have become who I am without my relatives to guide me. I took the trouble to send a letter to Petunia Dursley, your mother's sister, and if you would like to go to visit her for the summer, I would be happy to arrange sometime for you to sit down to meet her – I understand she has a young son your age, Dudley from her ex-husband Vernon …" Harry's grip has gotten tighter and tighter, his knuckles pale as he holds his fist behind his back but as he shakes his head, and laughs like a cough, forcing Albus's words to stop there something bitter and a little choking in his laugh.

"I've met them Headmaster Dumbledore, in fact - before I ever went to Hogwarts it's something I wished I never asked Papa to find out for me." Harry's lips twist in the memory of his Uncle Vernon. Sherlock must have said something to Mycroft about him, because shortly after meeting with Harry - Vernon had lost his job and Petunia had found she was devoicing from the man she had married – loving her idea of who he was - but never gotten to properly know, Dudley and she were in the end better off without him.

Harry was willing to go over to Petunia's for a visit once in a while, but the Headmaster didn't need to know that about them.

"I'm sorry to hear that Harry, but perhaps you would like spending your time this summer at Hogwarts, better? Life in the city is something very few wizards and witches like to do, and it is calmer at Hogwarts with its lake and forest and little village, I've always thought." Harry shrugs, playing to his age and that he doesn't care one way or another about peace and quiet or busy and bright.

"Yes, Hogwarts is a lovely place to go to school at Headmaster, and I'm sure a nice place to visit for the summer – but home is best for me, and I like it here in London, keeps the mind active – and you meet the most interesting people." Harry has been careful not to meet Albus's twinkling blue eyes ever since the first time, and this time he smiles past the Headmaster to catch attention of Wiggins one of the best of Papa's Baker Street Irregulars.

"Well, I best go, if there is nothing I can do to help you, Harry." Albus Dumbledore looks and sees a boy a little older than Harry tip his hat and stand staring at him from across the street eyeing the Headmaster suspiciously, he takes a mobile cell phone from his pocket and Harry knows that Sherlock is going to learn very shortly about the Headmaster of Hogwarts visiting their home.

"Good day, sir." Harry Potter keeps his manners, although as Wiggins makes his way across the street and smirks up at Albus as he passes, he can't help but roll his eyes.

"Alright, Harry?" Wiggins asks, wrapping a protective arm about the younger boy. He feels how tense with nervous Harry had become from the confrontation – and that too, will likely go into his report to Sherlock – even if Harry never hears it.

"Fine, Wiggins, just fine. Tea?" Wiggins smells of concrete dust and of dried paint, he calls himself an artist, his canvas the whole city's walls and sidewalks - but he is homeless. Harry doesn't care if Albus looks back and sees, or doesn't, Wiggins is probably hungry and his work (not his job, not his art) is in information, what he knows from being on the street could probably fill up newspapers more truthfully than most people wanted to see

Papa has always said that people live on the streets was they saw too much, knew too much, and didn't want to fit into how the world thought it all ought to work.

"Don't mind if I do, dear." Wiggins glances down the street, but Albus Dumbledore isn't there anymore, it's something that Wiggins narrows his eyes to see the lack of.

"Magic." Harry offers, and Wiggins chuckles – not because he doesn't believe – but because he does, and there isn't a Ministry in the world that could take that from him.

"Course he is, you are too, doesn't mean he gets to take you out of your home, Harry." Wiggins's words are heard by Mrs. Hudson, who is so charmed she makes him tea and gives him sandwiches to eat (and a bag to take away) and offers supper – which he says he'll stay for, but not the night. He's got a place.

It's alright, Harry says, Wiggins will be back again soon some other time – at that Wiggins laughs a little at the 'presumption of Wiggins person' – but doesn't argue it too badly. Wiggins promises to be a friend – and Harry would have it no other way.

(Harry needs all the friends he can get.)