Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling. This story belongs to me.

Sticks, Stones and Broken Bones

Chapter 16: Best Wishes

"Mr...Aberforth, Sir?" began Harry unsurely, looking up briefly, even as he continued to sweep the yard outside the Hog's Head. His thin t-shirt was stuck to his back in sweat, but Aberforth, who was watching the boy closely despite also helping out with the work, could see a small smile on Harry's face so he didn't suggest that they take a break. The boy was clearly enjoying the physical work, and Aberforth was grateful for the chance to give it to him. On top of that, his yard had never been in better shape, and his goats had never been happier.

It had been almost a week since the boy had first started working for him, and Harry seemed to have made some progress, not in his work ethic, which had been almost unstoppable from the first moment, but in his whole demeanor. There was still a great deal of awkwardness and unease there, but even so, the boy in front of him now had come on leaps and bounds from the boy he had first met over a week ago. The Weasleys were doing him good; not only was he starting to fill out those gaunt cheeks, but Aberforth had also caught him smiling to himself as he worked, something he couldn't even imagine Harry doing when they'd first come across him. Was the boy - dare he hope - happy?

"Not 'Sir', Harry," reminded Aberforth for what must have been the thousandth time in the past week, but he made it clear with a small smile that he wasn't mad at Harry. The boy had been infuriatingly polite and reserved, obviously having got it into his head that because Aberforth was his boss he had to treat him with this ridiculous level of respect. Aberforth had tried to talk with him about it, to reassure him that he had nothing to fear from him, but Harry hadn't quite grasped the concept yet. Not that he blamed the lad; authority figures had obviously been difficult for him to deal with in his past, and those sorts of horrors weren't the type to disappear overnight, no matter how happy he was.

On the other hand, Harry had begun to speak his mind a bit more, often starting conversations rather than waiting to be spoken to, and Aberforth, though he didn't show it, couldn't be more proud of the progress Harry had made. Aberforth hadn't mentioned it to the lad, not wanting to make him conscious of it, but he couldn't help the pleased smile that came on his face every time the boy instigated a conversation. It might not mean a lot to most people, but for someone like Harry, it was a huge step.

"Sorry," Harry muttered, and Aberforth frowned slightly as he paused with his own broom. The boy still apologised far too much.

"Don't worry about it," Aberforth dismissed, slightly annoyed with himself for giving him the wrong impression, and for letting his thoughts get away from him. Carefully, he placed what he hoped was a warm expression on his face. "Now, you had something to ask me?"

"Yeah, erm..." Harry began as he paused in his work as well. "I was wondering...why don't you clean this place up?"

Harry nervously gestured towards the open back door of the pub, and Aberforth found himself hiding a smile once again.

Harry was clearly dreading that he had stepped over the line, shifting as he was nervously from foot to foot. It had taken some time, but Harry was finally, slowly but surely, beginning to offer his own opinion without being asked, and Aberforth didn't want to put him off now, especially since it was, he supposed, a fair question.

"You think I should clean up my pub?" Aberforth tried to clarify. He put down his broom and gestured for Harry to do the same.

"Yeah...I mean..." Harry mumbled as he complied, wiping a pale hand across his sweaty forehead. "Your pub...it is quite...dirty."

"That it is," Aberforth conceded with a shrug, trying to hide his smile once again. "I can't say I've really been bothered about it before."

Albus had been nagging him for years about the dire state of his establishment, encouraging him in that manipulating manner of his to clean it up so that he could have some more...reputable customers. Aberforth had of course resisted, quite happy with his less than reputable customers.

But now that Harry was suggesting it, he thought properly about the suggesting. Aberforth placed a lot more stock in the opinion of the boy in front of him than his high and mighty brother, and now that he considered the issue properly, he realised it wouldn't do any harm...

"Well...I could...you know, help you clean it up," Harry offered, breaking into Aberforth's thoughts. "If you want?"

"You don't like working with my goats?" Aberforth joked, hoping to lighten an atmosphere that had become all too tense, but his comment didn't get the response he'd been going for.

"No...I-I do," Harry awkwardly reassured him, his eyes widening with slight apprehension; he'd clearly thought he'd offended his boss, and Aberforth almost cursed himself when he realised what he'd inadvertently suggested.

The old pub landlord wasn't used to talking to people; everyone usually avoided him, or thought he was mentally deficient or something, so he didn't often have visitors and he was a bit out of practice. Those who did come to the pub often did all the talking so all he'd had to do was listen. Most of the time they'd get it out of their system and be on their way without even waiting for a response from him. That approach clearly wasn't going to work with Harry though; Aberforth would have to make sure he was more careful from now on.

"Harry lad, calm down," Aberforth reassured the boy, making sure his tone was soft. "I was only joking. I suppose a clean-up is overdue. I wouldn't mind some help cleaning this place up. Albus has been going on for years about it, and this might just shut him up."

"Oh," Harry said, flushing slightly when Aberforth told him he'd only been joking. He wrung his hands nervously. "Shall we...you know...start now?"

"No, not now lad," Aberforth said with a smile. "You're done for the day. Here."

Aberforth passed him a few coins, a good rate for the work Harry had done, but Aberforth didn't regret it. Hiring the boy gave him the opportunity to act as the lad's therapist of sorts without Harry being too overwhelmed by it. From the first time he'd seen him, Aberforth had known that Harry was all but shut down and he'd wanted to help draw the boy back in whatever way he could. That Harry was a hard worker was merely an added bonus.

Aberforth gestured towards the door to his pub and they made their way, sweaty but satisfied by their work, back into the slightly cooler, but still empty pub. As they walked, he saw Harry put the coins into his pocket with great care, a small smile on his face, and Aberforth couldn't help the smile that followed on his own face.

"Come on, lad," Aberforth said, making sure not to touch him as he gestured Harry towards the fireplace. He'd learnt quickly that Harry usually tensed up when he got too close, but he didn't take it personally. One step at a time. "When you go through the Floo, make sure you get out of the way quick. I'll be coming through after you."

"I can manage on my own," Harry muttered with a scowl, the closest thing to impudent that Harry had gotten in the past week. His independent streak was something else Aberforth had noticed, but the old man didn't see this as much of a problem. Aberforth believed that it was largely that that had kept the boy alive this long, so there was no sense in discouraging it, per se. All he could do was keep giving Harry options and hope one day that he'd choose to let someone help him.

"I know, lad." Aberforth said easily, as he gave Harry a gently nudge towards the Floo power. "I just need a word with Arthur. You go on through, I'll be right behind you."

Harry did so, with a strangely confused look on his face, but if he suspected something was up, the boy chose not to say anything. Aberforth allowed the smile to form on his face once Harry had made it safely through the Floo, hoping that the surprise waiting for Harry at the other end would be worth all the effort the Weasleys had put into it. For once, maybe Harry would get what he had deserved all along.

Harry spluttered as he stumbled into the Weasley home, still not used to the Floo. Some soot had managed to get into his eyes, causing them to sting and water beneath his glasses, and his hands flew up to his face in a futile attempt to stop more going in.

"Surprise!"

He stumbled back, jolted by the loud noise. Harry blinked rapidly and tried to squint through his watering eyes, panicking slightly. He stepped back quickly until his back hit the wall, unable to see who was in front of him. Harry knew he was high-profile in the Wizarding World, and Aberforth had mentioned that there were still a few people around who might want to cause him harm; had they found him? Were they being attacked?

"Harry, mate," came a soft voice. "It's only us."

Blinking hard once more to try to dispel the soot from his eyes, Harry wiped his hand behind his glasses and turned to face Ron, confusion somewhat overtaking his panic. If they were being attacked, he doubted Ron would react so calmly about it. Slowly his heart rate slowed back to normal, although he was certain he still looked like he had just seen a ghost.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, quietly taking a moment now to look around the room. All the Weasleys were there, even Percy, and for some reason there were balloons and banners covering the small, cosy living room and a small pile of wrapped presents in Mrs Weasleys arms.

Mrs Weasley opened her mouth to answer, but at that moment the fireplace blazed green and through stepped Aberforth, apparently stilling the words in her mouth. The lack of surprise on his face as he looked around at the decorations suggested to Harry that he wasn't at all surprised, and Harry felt his confusion grow with each passing second.

"What...is all this?" Harry repeated, still pale faced from the shock of the yells that had greeted him when he had come through the grate. He took a deep breath and tried to steady his hand; Harry was embarrassed now that he realised that there was no attack. His past continued to haunt him, catching him unaware in everyday situations. It just didn't seem to be leaving him, and Harry hated it. He pushed it away as best he could though, trying to erase the fear from his face. He didn't want the Weasleys to worry.

"You alright there, lad?" asked Aberforth with a frown as he came further into the room. The Weasleys didn't seem at all surprised by the old man's appearance either, so Harry realised he must have been expected. "You look a little pale."

"I'm fine," Harry muttered, his eyes dropping to his feet. The atmosphere had become awkward as Harry shifted slightly from foot to foot. He had no idea what the hell was going on, but at the same time he didn't want to risk saying or assuming wrong. He still was a bit unsure in social situations, largely due to his lack of practice in the last few years.

"Harry, mate," Ron said softly, breaking the awkward silence. "Happy birthday."

Birthday? Harry's furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"Yes, Harry, lad," Aberforth added, frowning as he took in Harry's reaction. "How does it feel to be thirteen?"

Harry, of course, hadn't thought about it until now. His birthdays had meant little to him, and even less to the Dursleys. If they'd ever remembered it, they'd used to occasion to taunt him rather than treat him. Punishments had always been worse on his birthdays, almost as if his uncle had wanted to make a point; he wasn't welcome there and he was never going to be one of them, and they were going to make sure he knew it.

"It's today?" Harry asked, not noticing to concerned glance that Mr Weasley shot his wife. "I'm thirteen today?"

"I reckon so," Aberforth said gruffly, but with a smile. "You did say it was the 31st of July?"

"Yeah, that's right," Harry mumbled, still a little shell-shocked.

"You didn't remember?" prompted Aberforth. Harry shook his head in reply, shrugging unconcernedly.

The Weasley family hadn't moved since they'd tried to surprise Harry, obviously worried that one move would spook him more. Aberforth, who probably knew Harry better than anyone at this point, bar perhaps Ron, seemed to realise that what Harry needed more than anything was reassurance. He moved casually over to Harry, no hesitation in his movement as he placed a hand gently onto his shoulder and directed him to sit on the couch. Harry allowed himself to be guided into the seat, still slightly shocked, but more embarrassed than anything else.

The movement seemed to break the spell in the room, and all at once all the Weasleys moved. Molly, who was almost as pale as Harry, came over to sit beside him, a warm smile on her face despite the obvious worry that was there too. The others gathered around him, waiting expectantly for something.

"Happy birthday, Harry dear," Molly said gently, still holding the small parcels in her hands. "I'm sorry if we scared you."

"I'm fine," Harry mumbled, his cheeks tinged with pink. "Sorry...I just...What's going on?"

Harry gestured to the decorations and balloons around the room, still confused.

"We know you've had a difficult few years, Harry," Mr Weasley explained gently. "Aberforth mentioned that your birthday was coming up, and we thought we'd throw a little celebration for you."

"A celebration?" Harry asked, eyes widened in surprise.

"A party, Harry mate," Ron interjected, concern for his friend still clear on his face. "You can't have a birthday without a party. We wanted to surprise you."

"Oh," Harry said lamely, his eyes dropping to the hands he had rested nervously in his lap.

So it was for him. A real birthday party, something he had been dreaming since he had been old enough to understand exactly what he had always missed out on. Harry turned to Aberforth, his eyes shining slightly with unshed tears.

"You remembered," Harry said quietly.

"I might be an old man," Aberforth said, his gruff voice softer now, "But I'm not senile just yet."

"No one's really ever remembered before..." Harry whispered, although the silence in the room carried his words to everyone.

"Not even before...you know...?" asked Ron awkwardly.

"Not really," Harry mumbled. "Dudley always had parties and presents and stuff, but I never..."

"Well today we'll change that," said one of the twins cheerfully, and although it seemed to be forced slightly, Harry appreciated the effort. "Bring forth the presents!"

"Wait," Harry said, his head shooting up in surprise. "Presents...?"

"Mate, I really hate your relatives," Ron muttered angrily, though Harry knew it wasn't directed at him.

"Presents are an important part of childhood," Mr Weasley said with a frown. "We might not have much money, but we always try to get a few gifts for everyone's birthday. You're a Weasley now, Harry; you're part of this family, and you'll be treated like it."

"Here, Harry, dear," Mrs Weasley said softly as she passed him a small, squishy present. With a shaking hand, Harry took it, quite aware of how big a moment this was. No one, not in his entire life, had ever given him a present at all, let alone a birthday present, and he wanted to savour every second of it, just in case it was a dream.

"Come on, lad," Aberforth said, although his tone was not at all mocking. "I've heard it's common practice to open a present once you've been given one."

Blushing slightly, although certain that Aberforth was not making fun of him, Harry began to nervously pull at the colourful paper, not wanting to rip even that, so important was the present to him. All eyes were on him, warm smiles greeting his emotional reaction, but Harry paid little attention to it. His focus was on the gift in his hand.

Brushing aside the paper with considered care, Harry pulled out his first ever present with shaking hands.

"It's a Weasley jumper," Mrs Weasley explained kindly. "Like Arthur said, you're part of the family now, Harry. Every one of my children gets a jumper at Christmas and on birthdays, and don't think you'll escape."

She said this as if he should complain about the gift, but Harry was certain it was the best thing he had ever owned. Slowly he pulled it over his head, not caring that he was already quite warm from the work he had been doing in Aberforth's yard. The wool was warm, but so soft and comfortable that Harry wasn't sure he would ever want to take it off. It fit perfectly.

"I thought the green would bring out your eyes," Mrs Weasley said lovingly, and Harry his cheeks tinge with pink as he tried to hide the pleased smile on his face.

"She put more effort into yours than she did ours," joked one of the twins. "She must like you more."

Harry gave him a watery smile. He couldn't believe they were including him in this. It was more than he had ever dreamed of.

"Here, Harry," Mr Weasley, holding out another present. "This one was my idea. I hope you like it."

"Th-thank you," Harry stammered, still a little overwhelmed. He took the small package with shaking hands and gave it the same reverential treatment he had given the other present. Although he tried to take his time to savour the moment, he was soon holding in his hands his second ever present, eyes slightly widened as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.

The Hobbit, by J.R.R. Tolkien.

"Oh," Harry whispered, slightly overwhelmed. The book was in perfect condition, something he had never had before.

"Is it alright?" Mr Weasley said almost awkwardly. "I wasn't sure if you'd read it before?"

"It's...perfect," Harry whispered running his hand over the smooth and undamaged front cover. "Thank you."

One of his constant daydreams, as he'd tried to pass time on the streets, was what he would do once he had a proper job and money to spend. Top of the list had been a brand new book, and to have that fulfilled now - and in the form of the Hobbit no less – meant more to Harry than he could ever express in words. Instead, he allowed a radiant smile to grace his face, and the mirroring smile on Mr Weasley's expression told Harry that his message had been received and understood.

Before Harry could really comprehend that he was having a proper birthday like normal children, Aberforth added to the presents too.

"I got you a little something as well, lad," the old man said gruffly. "Mind, it's not much but I hope you like it."

Shakily, Harry took hold of the brown paper package. Despite its slightly less decorative wrapping paper, he treated it with as much reverence as the other two presents. He pulled off the wrapping with just as much care, ripping it aside to reveal another two books to add to his collection, but two books that he didn't quite recognise.

"You mentioned that you liked reading, but I reckon you haven't had much chance to read Wizarding novels," Aberforth explained. "I was never much of a reader, but I did like these ones so I thought you'd like them too."

"You didn't have to..." Harry mumbled, running a shaking hand over the pair of them, savouring them as if it was too good to be true.

"I know I didn't," Aberforth said gruffly, "But my family's all but gone now, apart from Albus - and you know we don't really get along. I don't have anyone else to buy for."

"Th-thanks," Harry mumbled, still overwhelmed by the afternoon's events. Harry gulped deeply as he tried to settle his emotions in his chest. The atmosphere grew slightly uncomfortable and the silence grew almost oppressive. No one seemed to know what to say now, and Harry wasn't sure he would ever be able to speak again.

"Right," said Mrs Weasley, clearly doing her best to appear cheerful even though she was still almost as pale as Harry. "Everybody make themselves comfortable. I'll just go and fetch the cake."

"Cake?" asked Harry, turning to Ron.

"Yeah," Ron replied quietly as he sat beside Harry, taking his mother's place at the couch with ease. "Mum always bakes us a cake for our birthdays. She's the best cook in the world!"

Harry opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted when Mrs Weasley came back into the room holding perhaps the biggest cake Harry had ever set eyes on. It looked mouth-wateringly delicious, and Harry couldn't quite grasp that it was all for his birthday. Everything had been more than he had ever even dreamed of.

"That looks great mum!" Ron said, almost drooling as he saw her bring in the cake and place it on the table in front of Harry.

"Yeah, it...looks great Mrs Weasley," Harry agreed quietly though sincerely. "Thank you."

"It's no trouble, dear," she replied warmly, as she handed him a slice.

As he sat munching on the delicious cake, watching as other slicing were passed through the family, Harry felt a bubbling of something rise in his body. He was...happy. So completely and utterly happy. Without even thinking about what he was about to do, Harry took up and walked shakily over to Mrs Weasley who was just about to pass a slice of cake to an eagerly awaiting Ron. Taking a deep breath, Harry stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, trying to express everything that he couldn't get out in words.

Mrs Weasley dropped the plate in her hands in surprise, splattering cake all over the floor, but her husband surreptitiously waved his wand to clean up the mess. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around his thin body, and he felt her warmth envelop him. Mrs Weasley held him like that for a long moment, almost like he imagined a mother would, before releasing him with a gentle and affectionate pat on the cheek.

"You're a good boy, Harry," Mrs Weasley said with a watery smile, a few tears leaking from her sparkling eyes.

Harry returned her smile with sincerity, and no small amount of tears of his own.

As the party got into full swing, Harry found himself simply watching as the family interacted, for once feeling a part of something so much bigger than himself. For his entire life, Harry had looked after himself, had relied on only his own skills and courage, but now, finally, he had this amazing group of people, this wonderful family to help take some of the burden. A warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with his new jumper, and he felt a sense of contentment, the likes of which he had never experienced before. It was completely new, not necessarily unwelcome, but also quite frightening in what it represented to him.

Suddenly, Harry felt the need to go outside. He needed to feel the cool air on his face, the wind in his hair. He needed to know that this was real.

Silently Harry got up and excused himself from the celebration, making his way through the kitchen to the back door, his heart thudding with a courage he hadn't felt in years. As he stepped out onto the grass, the evening breeze blowing through his hair, Harry released a deep breath and looked towards the sky.

He wasn't scared anymore. He felt like he could handle anything. It was more than a few presents and some cake; the Weasleys had treated him as if he was one of the family, and had included him with not even a second thought.

Harry felt less vulnerable and, for the first time in years, he could see a real future. It wasn't just a dream anymore. It was tangible; he'd almost felt it as he'd sat in that living room surrounded by laughing and joking and cake. He could have a life here.

"Harry?" came a voice from behind him. It took him slightly by surprise, so lost had he been in his thoughts, but he managed to suppress his flinch as Ron came to stand beside him. "You okay?"

Harry nodded. Ron looked at him with a warm smile, and Harry found it easy to return his own. The red head often acted oblivious in situations like this but Harry knew that he understood far more than most people, especially his siblings, gave him credit for.

"I'm just bringing Scabbers out for a bit of fresh air," Ron said casually. "Mum thinks he's getting agitated being cooped up inside all the time."

Harry wondered if that was true; he suspected it wasn't, and that Ron was using it as an excuse to come and check on him but Harry found himself grateful rather than annoyed. He sighed lightly as he watched Ron reach into his cage to pull out the rat and release him on the ground. The rat shot straight off into a nearby hedge and Ron groaned as he put down the cage.

"Scabbers!" he called resignedly, before turning to Harry. "Bloody rat..."

Harry smiled and Ron grinned in reply, obviously not too upset.

"You never know," Ron said, "Maybe he'll run off for good and I'll get a better pet – "

"No such luck boy," growled a voice from the hedge, not far from where Scabbers had just disappeared. Harry started at the new voice, but he'd been lulled into a false sense of security by the last hour or so, and his reactions were far slower than he'd needed them to be.

Harry felt a grimy hand grab his jumper as the man pulled himself out of the hedge. Harry struggled against it with all his might, but the hand was clamped too tightly and he couldn't break free. Before he could even think of yelling for help, the other hand hit him sharply around the head, knocking him off balance and causing his head to spin.

"Harry!" cried Ron as he tried to fight of the stranger, but he too got a cuff for his trouble.

"Shut it, boy," threatened the man angrily, grabbing hold of Ron as well. "You're coming with me."

The boys both struggled for a few more moments, almost clawing at the man holding them, but before they could get away, Harry felt a twisting sensation start at his naval, pulling him seemingly through the very air. His insides felt like they were being turned inside out, and his head was banging from the hit as the world continued to spin for several seconds.

When they finally landed, Harry fell to the floor as his body seemed to collapse onto itself. The man who had attacked them released their jumpers and he and Ron scrambled away until their backs hit the wall with twin thuds. Slowly, Ron turned to face him, a bruise already starting to form on his face as his terrified eyes met Harry's. Wherever they were, it was dark, but Harry could see the horror and fear on his friend's face as if it was day, and he had no doubt the expression was mirrored on his own face.

Blinking slowly as he tried to see through the darkened room, one thing was clear.

They weren't at the Burrow anymore.

A/N- I can't seem to let Harry be happy, can I? I hope you enjoyed it while it lasted, because things are going to get pretty tough for him and Ron in the next couple of chapters. I really would appreciate comments on this chapter, more so than usual, because I'm really not sure if the end feels rushed or not. Please let me know what you think!

By the way, I assume it's fairly clear who's kidnapped them, but for those who haven't worked it out, all will become clear in the next chapter. It might seem a bit out of the blue, but I've been planning this stage of the story for a while. I've waited until now, because I wanted to do it after Harry had made a little progress, but before he'd had much magical training. I hope you don't hate me for it!

Thanks for all the support for the last chapter, and I hope you like this one just as much. Thanks for reading!