Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling. This story belongs to me.
Sticks, Stones and Broken Bones
Chapter 9: A Family Matter
"Ron," Harry began nervously, taking his eyes from the game of strange, moving, Wizard's chess that he was currently losing. They had played the game a lot to pass the morning, before and after Harry's revelation, but he still wasn't quite used to the casual display of magic that the Wizard's chess expressed.
Harry shrugged this thought away and took a deep breath, wringing his hands nervously as he fought to control his emotions with what he was about to ask, his mind already irrevocably distracted from the game. He had been waiting all his life for this moment.
"Yeah, Harry?" replied Ron absently, as he told one of his pawns to take one of Harry's pieces.
"What do you know about my parents?" Harry asked softly, raising his eyes to meet his friend's, trying, likely in vain, to keep the pain out of them.
He hadn't quite managed it though, and looking at the barely concealed desperation in Harry's eyes, the hope warring with sadness, Ron felt a squirming in his gut that had nothing to do with hunger.
"I'm sorry, mate," Ron replied, the regret clear in his expression, abandoning the chess game for the moment. "I don't know much about them. Just what's in the story really."
Harry's face dropped, but he didn't give up. This meant too much to him.
"But you must know something," he begged. "Like...what were their names?"
"You don't know?" Ron asked sadly, but he knew the answer. Careful to keep his expression clear of the anger he felt towards Harry's awful relatives, lest he scare the boy off, Ron steeled himself to reply. He could see how much it meant to Harry.
"James and Lily Potter," Ron replied softly.
Harry closed his eyes, his mouth tracing the words over and over again, as if he was trying to commit them to memory.
He finally had a name to put to the people he had spent most of his life imagining.
When he had been younger, during long, boring hours locked in his cupboard, Harry's favourite way of passing the time had been to day-dream of his parents. He hadn't known what they looked like, though, having never seen pictures of them, so he had simply imagined them to look just like himself, with dark black hair, and bright green eyes.
The one thing he had always had trouble imagining, though, was their names. In his dreams he called them mum and dad, obviously, but something about that wasn't right. It made them less like real people, and more like imaginary parents he had simply dreamt up. It made it harder to believe.
But now...now they had names. Now they were real to him. Not just mum and dad; now they were James and Lily Potter. Real people, who had lived and breathed and who had possibly even loved him, something he could not say about anyone else.
"I'm named after my dad, then," Harry said, a look of sadness warring with wonder on his face. "My middle name, I mean. I always wondered..."
Harry trailed off and Ron didn't know quite how to break the silence that followed. His heart wasn't in this chess game anymore.
"Listen, mate," Ron began as he started to pack up the chess game. "How about I give you a proper tour of the house and garden...you know, take your mind off things. I haven't shown you our garden yet. I mean, it's nothing special, but...well..."
"That'd be nice," Harry said softly, pulling himself, still aching, off the bed, before he followed the redhead out of the room. Walking around, moving, had always taken his mind off his troubles, and his head was swimming so dizzily after the information he had been given in the last hour, that he was desperate for some time for it to sink in.
As Arthur walked slowly into his home that evening, his hand gripped tightly around the tattered backpack that he was carrying, his thoughts were a tumbling mess.
Before work, Arthur had gone straight to Hogwarts, eager to help his wife find some identity for the boy who had somehow been squeezed into their already full hearts. Arthur had not even met the boy, except when he had been unconscious, and yet he couldn't help but want to take some of the pain away that he knew he must be feeling.
He had been through something terrible in his life, that much was clear, and Arthur wanted to ease that as much as possible, both for the boy's sake and for his wife's, who he could already tell had formed a connection with the boy- Harry, Arthur reminded himself.
When he had arrived at Hogwarts though, intent on receiving Dumbledore's help in the case of the unknown boy, Arthur had been disappointed to find that the Headmaster was not available, and was instead at the Ministry in an important meeting. He had left a message, describing their contact with Harry, and what they needed to know about his background, hoping that the Headmaster would get back to them as soon as possible.
Hoping that Molly was having a bit more luck at home, for he knew she would try to talk to the boy, maybe even find out a bit more about his past where he had failed, Arthur had gone to work, his thoughts less on muggles than they usually were.
His mind, he found, had been elsewhere all day, and by the time it was time for him to go home, Arthur had made up his mind. A quick fire-call home, and he had Molly's blessing for his plan.
First he had gone to visit the Child Protection section of the Ministry, calling in an old favour from a friend to push through the paper work that he wanted, and that he knew Molly wanted too.
Then, without giving it much thought, lest he change his mind, Arthur had returned to the street where they had found Harry and Ron, battered, bruised and bleeding. After exploring the area, for he knew Harry must have been staying fairly close, Arthur had discovered the old pub, and the loose board on one of the windows.
Surreptitiously using a small bit of magic to gain entry, Arthur had quickly realised that the old pub had been Harry's home. His heart had broken when he had taken in the empty wrappers and the clothes left drying on the back of an old chair, likely belonging to Harry. He had moved quickly up the stairs, the darkness of the rooms slightly disconcerting, and had found where Harry had been sleeping; not on a bed, but on the floor, wrapped only, it seemed, in an old jacket.
Anger had clouded his mind at that point, anger on behalf of a boy who should have been saved a long time ago, and he had decided to leave, certain that he could do no good here. On his way out, though, his eyes had caught a glimpse of a bag, shoved into the corner of the room. A quick look inside nearly made his heart break once again, and he had quickly grabbed it before he could change his mind, hoping beyond hope that this bag did belong to Harry, and that it would bring the boy some comfort to have it back.
Now, as he entered the kitchen, breathing deeply as his wife greeted him, he pushed down all the doubts he felt when he thought of Harry, the street boy, the boy who had saved his son. He wanted to help him, a fact that surprised even Arthur since he had never actually met the boy properly, and yet he couldn't deny it. Whether Dumbledore got back to them or not, they would help Harry. The papers in his pocket reassured him of that.
"Did you speak to Albus?" Molly asked him quietly.
"No, I'm afraid he was busy at the Ministry," Arthur replied. "I left a message though. Did you speak with Harry?"
"He's magical," Molly said softly, answering her husband's unspoken question. "There's no doubt about it. Some of the things he's done...well, he must be fairly powerful, despite not having the training."
"And did he take it well?" Arthur asked.
"As well as one can expect, I suppose," replied Molly sadly. "He was upset, angry, scared, and he nearly ran away again, but he's calmed down enough now to consider it, and Ron's been a godsend. I think he's finally starting to trust us."
At the hope brimming in her eyes, Arthur couldn't bring himself to bring her down to reality. Because the truth was, they had a long road to travel before he thought they would get to that stage.
"I hope so, Molly," Arthur said, as they walked together into the living room.
The sight that greeted him was one he had not expected to see.
Harry was sat on the sofa, a big grin on his face as he played chess with Ron, surrounded by the twins and Ginny as well. It seemed as if everyone had ganged up on Ron, and were trying, as a team, to finally take his unbeaten record away from him.
The boy, Harry, looked tense, especially with the close proximity of the twins, but the wariness was to be expected, and at least the fear that Molly had spoken of appeared to have gone, replaced instead with a childish innocence that he had not prepared to register on the black haired boy.
Arthur shared a glance with Molly, who also appeared surprised at the sudden change in the boy. They were both reluctant to interrupt such a clear display of happiness, but unfortunately they had things to discuss. Molly, thankfully, realised this too, and it was she who stepped in.
"Boys, Ginny, your father's home," Molly announced to the room, and the kid's, minus Ron who was too engrossed in the game to care, and Harry whose head had snapped up at the declaration, jumped up to greet him.
"Dad!" Ginny cheered, offering him a big smile. "We're about to beat Ron! Come and watch. Go on Harry..."
But Harry didn't move the piece Ginny had indicated, nor did he even glance in her direction. His eyes were wide unmoving, staring at Arthur with barely disguised fear and mistrust.
The boy was completely and unnaturally still, as if he thought that one small movement would set off a deadly minefield. He was alert, wary and tense, his fists clenched as he fought with some unknown emotion. Was it shock? Fear? Arthur didn't know, and neither, it seemed, did Molly.
Harry looked even paler than he had been last night, when Arthur had carried his limp body into their home, and he was biting his lip nervously. For some reason, Ron looked nervous too, and his ears had gone red almost immediately, a clear sign that he was hiding something.
Before this thought had even registered in Arthur's brain though, the Floo flared unexpectedly, causing pandemonium in the room.
Harry jumped up as soon as the green flames appeared, inadvertently knocking the chess set to the floor as he flew as far away from the fireplace as he could. With his back against the wall, his eyes darted around in fear as a person stepped out of the flames, a person Harry didn't recognise. Arthur did.
It was Professor Dumbledore.
"Albus," Molly greeted, as the Professor dusted off his robes, shooting a concerned glance over to Harry. The boy seemed very pale, but after a few moments the shock seemed to wear off. It helped that Ron had moved over to join his friend, clearly explaining that there was nothing to worry about.
"Did you get my message?" Arthur asked, wondering why Dumbledore was here.
"I did," Dumbledore replied gravely, glancing over to the corner where Ron and Harry now stood. "I must say I was surprised to hear your news. A muggle-born you say?"
"Yes," Molly replied. "Harry, here, has definitely experienced magic, but he has no recollection of ever receiving a Hogwarts letter. Is that possible, Albus?"
"Quite impossible, I'm afraid," Dumbledore replied vaguely. "And he is definitely magical?"
"Yes," Molly answered promptly. "There is no doubt about it."
"Well, that present quite a problem," Dumbledore commented, turning around to face Harry, taking in the scared, frail boy, half-hiding behind his friend.
"What do you mean, Albus?" Arthur asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.
"Well," answered Dumbledore quietly, talking as if there was a frightened animal in the room that he didn't want to spook. "It is a problem because the Hogwarts register is never wrong. And it never misses anyone. It is a problem because there is only one child in the last ten years who has failed to answer his Hogwarts letter, and that child is widely believed to be dead."
The words took a few seconds to sink in, but when they did Arthur's eyes took on a horrified tone as he looked towards the terrified, black-haired boy. Before he could speak though, Ron jumped in.
"It isn't him, Professor!" Ron burst out, as Harry moved slightly further behind his friend with Ron taking on the protector role. "This is just Harry. He isn't who you think!"
"And who might I think he is, Mr Weasley?" Dumbledore asked shrewdly, looking towards Ron from the top of his half-moon spectacles.
Ron, however, seemed to realise his mistake, for he kept his mouth clamped tightly shut, refusing to say another word.
"No matter," Dumbledore replied absently, looking towards Harry. "There is no mistake. I'm afraid, dear child, that you resemble your father too much for me to be mistaken, even without glasses, and your eyes...well, it's as if your mother is staring out at me from beyond the grave."
Harry stepped out from behind Ron, moving as if on auto-pilot upon hearing the news of his parents.
"I should have seen it," breathed Molly. "Your eyes...they are so like Lily's"
"Harry Potter," said Dumbledore softly. "We have been looking for you for a long time."
Harry just shrugged, and the silence which followed was more than uncomfortable; it was almost painful.
"I didn't want to be found," Harry said quietly, breaking the silence with a tentative air.
"I know, child," Dumbledore replied, and it wasn't hard to detect a trace of remorse in his words. "How long have you known who you were in our world?"
"Not long," Harry replied, his eyes lowered to the floor. "Me and Ron worked it out this morning."
"Then you know your story," Dumbledore said sadly. Harry just nodded. "I am so sorry, my boy."
"What are you sorry for?" Harry asked, before adding, "Sir."
"When your parents were killed," Dumbledore began softly, "Our world was in somewhat of a shambles. It was left to me to decide where you should be sent after the fate of your parents. Had I known what Petunia would be like..."
Harry went pale, paler than Arthur believed possible, his skin now almost scarily translucent as he stared at Dumbledore. He clenched and unclenched his fists, the whiteness of the skin stark against his clothes as he gripped at his t-shirt in an attempt to control his growing anger.
"You," Harry ground out, his green eyes flashing angrily as all previous nervousness around the Professor apparently vanished. "You...left me there!"
"I did," Dumbledore nodded sadly, his remorse clear. Harry didn't care though; it was too late for apologies. He had suffered too much because of this man.
"Why?!" Harry asked him angrily. "Why the hell did you think that would be a good idea?"
It didn't matter that he was currently shouting at the Headmaster of the school that he was hoping to attend. It didn't matter that he had lost his temper so completely that he wasn't sure he would ever rein it in. All that matter to Harry, as he glared unrepentantly at Dumbledore, was that he was angry, and he needed someone to blame.
"You left me there!" Harry shouted, when Dumbledore didn't answer, his voice still slightly hoarse from his years alone on the street. "Why?!"
"They were your last living relatives," Dumbledore replied calmly, although it was clear from the expression in his eyes that he was affected by Harry's reaction.
"But they didn't want me," Harry said scathingly. "Anyone could see that!"
"There was no other option," Dumbledore said remorsefully.
"I'm the bloody Boy Who Lived apparently," Harry sneered, his face showing an expression that was far too old for someone his age. "I'm sure there were plenty of options. Are you telling me there was absolutely no one else who was willing to take me in?"
"You would have grown up in the spotlight," Dumbledore replied somewhat desperately. Harry could tell the Headmaster was hiding something, and it just made him more furious at the man. "There is no telling how that would have shaped your life."
"It would have been better than living in a cupboard!" Harry shouted, his voice breaking slightly.
He snapped his eyes shut, desperate to avoid the pitying expressions on the faces of all the Weasleys. He hadn't meant to say that, but his emotions had got the better of him.
"A cupboard..." Dumbledore whispered. Their investigation had turned up many atrocities in the Dursley household, but the fact that a cupboard under the stairs had been Harry's room, had been by far the most shocking.
"You know, for a supposed genius, you're pretty thick," Harry said scathingly, no sympathy in his expression for the remorse Dumbledore was clearly exhibiting. "Why did no one check up on me? It wouldn't have taken much. Two minutes in that house would have been enough to know I wasn't exactly happy!"
"It was a mistake," Dumbledore said, his eyes watering slightly. "A grave mistake. I am not perfect."
"Finally something we agree on," Harry sneered, shooting a glare towards the Headmaster.
"I'm sorry, Harry, I'm so sorry," Dumbledore said desperately. "But you must come to Hogwarts now. We can look after you there. It is not safe for you, even here. It is the main reason I placed you with a blood relative. If I had not acted, you would be defenceless as a child. I was afraid that you would be attacked, even...killed."
"I WANTED TO DIE!" Harry yelled angrily, tears leaking from his eyes. "I wouldn't wish what I went through there on my worst enemy! If I'd stayed there much longer, he would have killed me eventually, and I wouldn't have bloody minded! I spent years there, in that hell-hole, and not one person in that entire bloody village gave a shit about me. Not my relatives, not my neighbours and not my teachers! NO ONE! I was on my own there!"
Harry took a deep breath, desperate to calm his anger, desperate to regain some control.
"If you had saved me then," Harry continued, much calmer than before, although his hand was shaking slightly. "If you had come to me, like you are now, acting like you care, then I would have done anything for you!"
Dumbledore flinched, but Harry felt no remorse, no regret, at causing this man such intense pain now. Dumbledore barely knew a fraction of what he had been through in his life; this brief moment of regret now wouldn't take away all of the pain he had suffered because of his actions all those years ago.
"But you didn't...and I had to save myself!" Harry continued unrelentingly. "You're too bloody late Dumbledore. If you want my respect now, you'll bloody well have to earn it! And just so you know, I'm not the type to give second chances easily, not anymore! Not after everything that I've been through."
Harry turned away from the Headmaster, desperate not to show weakness in front of the old man. He clenched his fists until they turned white, trying harder than he had ever had to before to control his emotions. Looking towards the Weasleys, who were stood, stock-still to his right, Harry's eyes were wide and watery as he gazed pleadingly over to them.
"I'm...I'm sorry Mrs Weasley, Mr Weasley, if I've ruined this," Harry said, his voice breaking. "If you want me to leave I will..."
Instead, Mrs Weasley turned her attention to the old Professor, her fury clear.
"Dumbledore, you have my respect for what you did during the last war, and you have my respect now," Molly said, barely restraining her anger. "You are a good man Albus, but if you think you can take that boy away from me, you're a bigger idiot than I thought! He's staying here, as long as he bloody well wants to!"
Harry let go of the breath he had been holding, his heart pumping loudly in his chest with some unknown emotion. He had never had someone on his side before, and he wasn't quite sure how to deal with it.
"I want to stay here," Harry said firmly, praying that his voice didn't crack.
"Harry..." Dumbledore began, but Harry had had enough.
"I'm staying here!" Harry burst out, fury dancing in his bright green eyes. "You don't have the right to mess in my life anymore! You made a mistake, and I won't let you make another one! If you move me this time, I'll run away again, and this time, I'll know who to hide from!"
Harry glared at Dumbledore and Arthur knew the conversation was over, at least for now. He couldn't bear to look at the anger in Harry's eyes, nor the regret in Albus', for a second longer.
"Albus," Arthur said tentatively. "Perhaps it's best if you leave."
"I believe you're right," Dumbledore replied sadly. "It seems as if I have lost your trust, young Harry. It is no less than I deserve, of course. Would you please keep me informed of how you intend to act Arthur?"
There was an intense amount of trust in those pale blue eyes, and Arthur couldn't bring himself to break it, no matter how angry he was at the man for leaving Harry with those wretched muggles.
"I will," Arthur replied firmly. "But it will be what Harry wants, not what is best for the Wizarding World."
"Of course," Dumbledore said sadly, and then he was gone in one hot flash of green flames, and the only sign that he had been there at all was the slightly smouldering fireplace that he had left in his wake.
The silence that followed Dumbledore's exit was deafening.
Each of them stood stock-still, white faced as they turned to face Harry, the disbelief and anger still clear on his face. Eventually though, the initial shock wore off.
"I don't think I've ever heard mum swear before," Ron said, after a few moments, and the spell was broken.
Fred snorted.
"Sorry," Fred said, although he didn't seem sorry at all as he turned towards his mother. "It's just, you do realise that you just called the Headmaster of Hogwarts, one of the greatest Wizards of all time, an idiot?"
"Not now Fred." Molly said with a glare, before softening her expression as she turned to black haired boy. "Harry dear, are you okay?"
"Yeah," Harry muttered as he sank back down onto the sofa, roughly running a shaky hand over his face. "I...I did the right thing, didn't I?"
"Dear, I'm not even sure there is a right thing," Molly said softly, taking a seat next to him. "But we'll support you one hundred percent. If don't trust Albus, then we won't force you to."
Green eyes shined brightly with unshed tears. The scrawny, black haired boy didn't seem to know what to say, or whether he should say anything at all, so Arthur stepped in, walking slowly and patiently over to the chair Harry was seated in, kneeling before it so that he was almost eye level with the boy.
"Harry," Arthur began gently. "There's something we need to talk about."
Harry nodded to Arthur although he couldn't seem to raise his eyes. Tenseness had enveloped his body, possibly due to the closeness of the older man, but Arthur couldn't bring himself to move away. He needed Harry to understand this.
"Listen, Harry," Arthur began, hoping he had the boy's full attention. "I spoke to a friend at the Ministry today, who works with Child Services in the Wizard World."
"Oh," Harry mumbled and his face seemed to drop. Arthur, who couldn't work out why that particular piece of news would affect the boy in that way, couldn't contain his curiosity.
"What's the matter, Harry?" he asked concerned.
"Well," Harry began quietly, struggling with some unknown emotion. "The system...well, it's not good for people like me. And well...I don't want to go to an orphanage."
"Oh, Harry," Arthur said sadly, his hand itching to grip the boy's shoulder in comfort. He refrained though; it was clear that Harry was anything but comfortable in his company, and he didn't want to make it worse for the boy. "Is that why you stayed on your own?"
Harry just shrugged but the involuntary clenching of his fists told Arthur the answer. Taking a deep breath, Arthur steeled himself against the anger he felt at Harry's previous relatives. He had heard the horror stories about what had happened on Privet Drive, but never had it seemed as real to him as it did now as he looked towards the nervous, malnourished, traumatised boy, who had spent the last two years living on his own because he thought it was the best possible solution in his horror-filled life.
"Well," Arthur continued, "it works somewhat differently in the Wizarding World. Our arrangements are much more...informal."
"S-So," Harry began nervously. "What's going to happen to me now?"
"Harry," Molly interjected, glancing towards her husband. "We meant what we said when Professor Dumbledore was here. We'd like you to stay here, if you still want to."
"It isn't because you're Harry Potter either, if that's something that you're worried about," Arthur said softly, and he was rewarded with green eyes tentatively meeting his gaze. The revelation hadn't really sunk in for Arthur yet, but he knew his words were the truth. "I'd already had my friend draw up these papers for us, before we even knew who they were really for. They're for Harry, not the Boy Who Lived."
Arthur held out the papers that he had been holding in his hand and Harry took them nervously, tense in case it was a trick.
Squinting, he pulled the papers close to his eyes, far closer than was normal. Arthur shared a look with Molly, and he knew she had noticed the same thing. They were prevented from addressing the issue though, when a tentative voice rang through the room, shock clear in the tone.
"Temporary adoption papers?" Harry said, his brow furrowed in confusion.
"Well, Harry dear," Molly said softly, who had known he would organise this. "They're by no means a permanent solution, not in the Wizarding World. But they would mean that we would become your temporary guardians, at least until a more permanent solution could be found."
"And, I'd live here?" Harry asked, his eyes wide, unshed tears prickling at the edges.
"If you want to, Harry," Arthur confirmed, trying to add a reassuring smile to his face.
"I'd...I'd like that," Harry answered, gulping loudly in a way that suggested that he was trying to withhold great emotion. Arthur found his throat tightening in a similar way as he looked at the newest addition to their family.
Glancing round the room, Arthur was proud to see that there was not one face among his family who seemed to have any opposition to the adoption either, and it made his heart light in a way it had not been since the day that Ginny had been born.
"There's something else, Harry," Arthur began cautiously. "I went to your...hide-away on my way home..."
"What?" Harry asked, betrayal flaring in his expression. "Why?"
Arthur tried to remain emotionless in appearance, but he hated the fact that he had already angered the boy with his actions. He barely knew him, and yet he felt so intensely that he didn't want to hurt this boy any more than he already had.
"I went for this," Arthur said, walking over to the corner of the room where he had left the battered back-pack. "It occured to me, whilst I was at work, that you were probably forced to leave some things behind when you rescued my son. I wanted to return them to you. It was the least I could do."
Wide eyed, Harry took the backpack with shaking hands, the shock clear in his expression. He seemed to take a deep breath before diving into the bag to check what of his possesssions had survived. The relief and gratefulness on his face lightened Arthur's heart more than he ever dreamed it could.
"Thanks," Harry whispered, looking up at Arthur with those big green eyes.
It was a fragile trust between them, but it was trust nonetheless, and although there were still many issues to face, now they would face them together, and Arthur couldn't be more thankful.
A/N- Hello, my wonderful readers. Another chapter has arrived, and this one is by far the longest chapter yet! There's a lot in in as well, and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Thank you for each and every review that was sent after the last chapter was posted. I haven't replied to any of them sadly, due to my distinct lack of time, but I appreciated every single one more than I could ever express. So thank you, from the bottom of my heart!
I'd love to hear what you thought of this chapter too, but for now, thanks for reading!