Disclaimer: Heat Harry Potter to 37 degrees Celsius and serve. Do not store in cupboard. Garnish with credit to JK Rowling.

A/N: If you're following His Mother's Love, Chapter 7 is now posted.

The Accidental Animagus is a little behind schedule and will be updated tonight or tomorrow.

Unfortunately, life happens, and I have been especially busy of late. As such, I am not certain that I will be able to keep posting to two stories every week. I will continue to do so if I can, and I fully expect to have no problem updating at least one story per week, alternating between the two. Both The Arithmancer and The Accidental Animagus will continue for the foreseeable future, so don't panic if I miss a week on one of them.

Thank you all for reading. It's been very encouraging to see that I have so many loyal readers. I'm a firm believer of keeping you informed of what's going on, so I will post another A/N if anything changes.

Chapter 40

While the Grangers went off for dinner with Professor Vector, Harry was getting his own meeting with a teacher, albeit a much shorter and blunter one.

"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley," Professor McGonagall said.

The Dursleys all flinched, and Aunt Petunia scowled. "You—What do you want?" she said.

"I wanted to let you know," she replied primly, "that unfortunately—and I say that for your nephew's sake, not yours—Mr. Potter will need to stay with you again this summer. And after the…unfortunate events of last summer—" She glared at the Dursleys to indicate that she remembered they went well past "unfortunate". "—I will be checking up on Mr. Potter periodically—making sure he is doing well, that he is able to complete his summer homework—just written, I assure you: no magic—and that he is able to maintain correspondence with his friends. I am sure that as a courtesy, your nephew will limit himself to sending messages at night so as to attract less attention." She looked pointedly at Harry.

"Huh? Uh, yes, Professor," Harry said quickly. Despite the good news, he was still a little shaken from the carriage ride that morning. Hermione had explained to him and Ron about the thestrals, but it didn't reduce the impact. It was the kind of thing that stuck with you all day and could only be (hopefully) dispelled by a night's sleep.

Vernon and Petunia went from red to white and back to red through that little speech, although they looked a little mollified by the concession.

"Good. Our Arithmancy teacher—what you would call a maths teacher—Professor Vector, may visit in my place at times. Finally, Mr. Potter, you remember how to use the Knight Bus?" Harry nodded. "If you experience an emergency, simply hail the Knight Bus and tell them where you need to go."

"Yes, ma'am." Harry was already formulating an idea about that.

"Very good. And just one more thing, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley. I thought you should know that your nephew recently killed the world's largest snake with a sword, saving several of his friends' lives in the process." The Dursleys paled, especially Dudley, remembering the boa constrictor incident. "You may think he is a—what did you always call your sister, Petunia? A freak? But in my book, you are not worthy of his presence, and it is by great misfortune that he is saddled with yours. Good evening." She spun on her heel and walked away.

The Dursleys all eyed Harry nervously, as if he would produce a sword from his trunk at any moment. But when he just stood there, waiting, Vernon muttered, "Get to the car, boy," and that was that.

When they made it back to Privett Drive, safely away from prying eyes, Harry made his move. Before his uncle had a chance to take him up to his room, he said, "Alright, Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, Dudley, I have a couple of things to say, too."

"I think you've said enough, boy," Uncle Vernon growled.

"No, I don't think I have," Harry replied. He fished in his pocket and pulled out a runic circle: "You see this? I've got it working this time." He pointed the rune at a hideous flower vase on the end table and said, "Wingardium Leviosa." The vase rose about a foot into the air, and then settled back down.

Dudley screamed and ran into the kitchen. Uncle Vernon turned his trademark shade of puce and looked like he was about to blow his top. Only Aunt Petunia retained the power of speech. "You…you can't do that!" she stammered. "They'll expel you!" She looked to the windows fearfully, waiting for the letter to come.

"No they won't," Harry said smugly. "No owls coming this time, Aunt Petunia. I won't get in trouble if I use these instead of my wand—and there's a lot more where that came from."

"And you've got a lot more coming to you!" Uncle Vernon roared. He lunged at Harry, but Harry was ready and held up another rune to his face. This one said Flipendo. Not being a complete idiot, Vernon stopped in his tracks.

"Wanna find out what this one does, Uncle Vernon?"

Vernon stood there in silence, sweating profusely. "W-what do you want?" Aunt Petunia asked for him

Harry knew he couldn't ask for too much. He only had so many runes, and he still wasn't sure how long they would last. "Just some basic courtesy," he said. "You leave me alone, and I'll leave you alone. I'll even still do my chores, within reason. But if I decide to take the occasional day trip to visit my friends, I will ask you to keep out of my way. Besides, it'll get me out of your hair for a few hours."

Now, the Dursleys weren't keen to give Harry any sort of pleasure in his life. Was it really cheaper to dye Dudley's old school uniforms a new colour instead of just buying new ones? Cheaper, maybe, but also more effort, and if there was one thing the Dursleys hated more than spending money on Harry, it was expending effort on him. No, they went out of their way to make him miserable, and the thought of giving Harry a day trip to visit his freak friends was an infuriating one. But despite appearances, they weren't stupid, and Harry was still holding an unidentified spell to Uncle Vernon's head.

"Alright, alright," Petunia said in an attempt at a calming tone to try to talk her nephew down. She'd never admit it, but she was inwardly cursing herself for never paying attention to Lily so she would know what Harry could actually do to them. "Just put those…things away, and we won't give you any trouble—and we'll let you disappear for an afternoon once in a while." Vernon stayed that unhealthy shade of purple in anger at the deal, but he was in no position to argue. "If you get your chores done," Petunia added lamely, knowing deep down that there was no way she could enforce it.

"Within reason," Harry agreed.

The next morning, Hermione had decided to have a lie-in on her first day of summer, and her parents had a similar idea for a lazy Sunday morning and hadn't bothered to move very fast. That had never been a problem before. Why should it be now?

BOOM!

The house shook. There was a loud yelp and a thud from downstairs, and her parents screamed in fear. Hermione's mind subconsciously ran through the various possibilities of monsters, dark wizards, a car crashing into the living room, and so on, and settled on the correct explanation in a fraction of a second: there was an elf in the house.

"Damn, I should have thought—" she cursed her shortsightedness. A loud beeping sound and more yelps were coming from downstairs, but by then she was already in motion. She grabbed her wand from her desk drawer (she'd take the warning and call it an emergency if she had to) and burst out of her bedroom, running past her panicking parents and practically jumping down the stairs to reach the kitchen. The moment she got there, she threw open the cupboard door, grabbed the fire extinguisher, pulled the pin, and spun around to face the flames.

Dan and Emma Granger thought they'd had quite enough excitement for one year and were just hoping for a quiet summer, but it was not to be. Hermione had only been back twelve hours before something exploded, and she ran past them, wand in hand. They stumbled after her, and when they reached the kitchen, they were greeted by a sight disturbingly like one of her stories. Their daughter was standing there with her wand in her teeth, brandishing the fire extinguisher like a weapon, putting out the fire on the cabinets around the stove while their newly-hired house elf stood in the sink, wielding the sprayer faucet like a fire hose, valiantly trying to help. In seconds, the flames were miraculously beat down to the stove top, and Hermione dropped the fire extinguisher, reached out, lightning-fast, and turned all the knobs on the stove to OFF.

"Phew!" She sighed with relief as she wiped her unused wand on her sleeve and turned back to her shocked parents. "Um…morning?"

CLANG!

"Dobby, stop!" She grabbed the elf by the scruff of the neck to stop him from cracking his head on the rim of the sink. He began bawling loudly.

"Is this what your life if like all the time, Hermione?" Dan asked, saying the only thing that came to mind.

"Only about once a month or so," Hermione deadpanned as she pulled up the overturned chair that Dobby had clearly been standing on to reach the stove and lifted him out of the sink to sit him down on it. "Dobby, please calm down," she said.

"Dobby, is so sorry, Miss Hermione!" he wailed. "Miss Hermione's family was so kind to hire Dobby, but Dobby failed! Dobby set his new masters' home on fire! Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!" He shook violently, trying to bang his head on something again.

"No, Dobby, it's okay! It's not your fault!" Hermione said, but the elf barely heard her.

"It's not?" Emma said incredulously. "Do you mind explaining that?"

"Dobby is a bad elf! Dobby did wrong. Dobby must find new work!" the elf cried.

"No, no, Dobby, we're not going to fire you," Hermione insisted, hoping her parents would agree. "And you didn't do wrong. It was my fault." Dobby's sobs cut off to a soft whine in surprise at a witch taking the blame. "I should have thought to teach you how to use our muggle appliances. You've never seen this kind of stove before, have you?"

Dobby looked up at her with wide eyes and tears rolling down his long nose. He gave a loud sniff and then shook his head.

"You haven't?" Emma said in surprise.

"Hogwarts uses wood-fired stoves," Hermione explained. "And I'm sure the old families all do, too. He's probably never seen an electrical appliance in his life." Dobby sadly shook his head again.

"Wood-fired?" Dan said.

"Why mess with what works? That's how wizards think. Plus, an electric starter wouldn't work at Hogwarts, so it's probably safer."

"So then…what exactly happened here?" he pressed.

Dobby looked up and tried to answer, but he just gave a shudder and started sobbing again.

"Shh, Dobby, it's okay," Hermione said before turning back to her parents. "Obviously, he wanted to make breakfast for us. So he started playing with the knobs, trying to figure out how the stove worked, turned the gas on for all the burners, and then the electric starter ignited it and blasted him off the—Dobby, are you alright?" she said frantically. She quickly looked the elf over, and her mother rushed to help. They soon found that Dobby had a bruise on the front of his head from where he'd banged it on the rim of the sink, and another one on the back of his head where he'd fallen on the floor, and his pillowcase looked a bit singed, but amazingly, he didn't appear to be burnt.

"Oh dear," Emma said. "You should really put some ice on that. I'll make an ice pack for you." She quickly retrieved the first aid kit and some ice from the freezer.

"M-M-Missus Granger is too kind to Dobby, ma'am," the elf sniffed. "Dobby's old m-masters never…never helped Dobby when he was hurt."

"Well…well, we're not like your old masters, Dobby," Emma said. "In the muggle world we have something called workplace safety laws."

"Uh, yeah," Dan said grudgingly, obviously not liking how this arrangement was turning out. "Just let us show you how to use the kitchen before you try to cook anything."

"Dobby is sorry about the kitchen, Mister Granger, sir," he said as Emma applied the ice. "Dobby will accept any punishment—"

"Dobby, please stop. You're not in trouble," Hermione interrupted, glaring at her father to indicate that he had better agree. "Nobody got burnt, and this damage really isn't that bad. Um…and in the muggle world, it's the responsibility of the employer to train the employee in their job, so we can't blame you for not knowing what you were doing." Of course, she was sure the Malfoys would have blamed him anyway and beat him within an inch of his life, but that was all the more reason to show him there was an alternative.

"There, that should help," Emma said when she had done what she could for his bruises. "We're glad you're not hurt too badly…" She regarded the elf carefully, not really sure what to say. How does one talk to a non-human? Hermione seemed to know how to talk to him easily, but Dan and Emma knew only the barest amount from her descriptions. Still, remembering the letters over the past two years and the conversation last night, she gave it a try: "If you're up for it, let's make breakfast together so we can show you how it's done."

Dobby leapt to his feet with elation. "Oh, yes, Missus Granger, ma'am, Dobby would like that very much. Dobby will be a very good student for his new family, ma'am."

"I'm sure you will, Dobby," Hermione said gently.

They set Dobby back on his chair ("We should really see about getting him a rolling chair or stool for this," Hermione said) and showed him how to use the stove properly without destroying anything, although he would need some practice to get the heat just right for different things. They also showed him how to use all the other appliances, which made for a little bit different breakfast than normal, but they wanted to get it all out of the way quickly. Dobby thought that the toaster was very clever, the blender and rubbish disposal were both a little bit frightening, and the microwave might as well have been magic to him, especially as it came with the arcane warning, "Whatever you do, don't put anything metal in there, or bad things will happen." Hermione also tried to convince him to sit at the table with them, but that proved to be a step too far for the little creature, and they had to let him sit off in the corner to keep him coherent. Hermione decided they would have to work on that bit.

That day was a busy one. There were no more disasters, since the plumbing and cleaning supplies all worked more or less like Dobby was used to, but the Grangers did have to make sure he knew his way around electricity enough that he wouldn't get electrocuted, and how the washer and dryer worked. Then they had to take his measurements and buy him some proper clothes. They bought an assortment of little boys' clothes including (with difficultly, but at Hermione's insistence for special occasions) a tiny tuxedo for a butler's uniform. It wasn't really all that much, but when Dobby saw the pile, he promptly fainted.

Over the next few days, although Dobby continued to be supervised whilst preparing meals, Dan's and Emma's anxiety over the arrangement lessened, and they discovered, to their delight, that Dobby was actually a pretty good cook. Granted, his choice of fare wasn't as healthy as it could have been, but Hermione explained that wizards probably didn't know a lot about such things, so Emma vowed to teach him about modern nutrition over the summer.

The most awkward part of the week was when Dobby insisted he didn't want to take up the Grangers' guest room, even though they had plenty of space. They didn't really have a room that would make a good elf-sized bedroom, but Dobby suggested that if he cleaned up the cupboard under the stairs, it would make a good room. Even Hermione didn't like that because it was so small and didn't have a window, and she reminded him that the school elves had bigger rooms than that, but Dobby told her it was better than what he had before, and he needed a place to go when visitors came so they wouldn't see him. And besides, he would be living with the school elves for most of the year, anyway. It took some convincing, but Hermione was quickly reminded how stubborn elves could be in their own, codependent way, and they agreed to give him the cupboard.

Dear Harry,

I have some good news for once: my plan to hire Dobby worked out pretty well. It was a steep learning curve at first, but we've ironed out the kinks, and my parents are really warming up to him. I think he's much better off now that he's well treated, and—let's say he's getting much easier to be around.

I'm sorry to hear about what happened with Ron's phone call. We really need to be more precise when describing muggle technology to magicals. Dobby nearly destroyed our kitchen when he tried to work our gas stove on his own. (That was the steep learning curve I mentioned.) Don't worry, though. We're all fine.

I couldn't write earlier because my parents grounded me for my "reckless behaviour", but I'm ungrounded now, so if your relatives will still let you, you can come over for dinner sometime. My parents would love to get to know you properly, and I'm sure Dobby will be excited to see you again. (Don't worry; we can keep him in line.)

I really hope your relatives aren't treating you too badly this summer. I'm sure some of the things they've done to you before are illegal, and I honestly think you'd be better off somewhere else. I didn't want to push you, but please tell Professor McGonagall if something is wrong when she visits before things get as bad as last year.

Love from Hermione

P.S. And be sure to get your summer homework done before it gets too late.

Harry really did appreciate his friend's concern, but his summer was actually getting off to a pretty good start. There had been no weird disruptions, he was getting his mail, and even with his chores, with nothing else to do, he was making good headway on his homework. Sure, the Dursleys were still glaring at him with their usual hatred, but that was par for the course, and with a professor visiting every week or two, they didn't dare try anything.

Once he was settled into his routine at Privett Drive, he felt confident enough to arrange a dinner with the Grangers, and a date was quickly agreed to. He made sure all his chores were done for the day, so that there could be no (legitimate) complaints, and he boarded the Knight Bus, eager for a blessed, Dursley-free evening.

The Grangers' house looked nicer than the Dursleys', although still very formal and proper. Like Privett Drive, there were few signs that a child lived here, but then, Hermione was anything but a conventional child. In fact, conventional went right out the window when he rang the bell, and the door was answered by a hyperactive, green-eyed elf wearing a tuxedo that looked like a wedding somewhere was missing its ring bearer. Harry only had a split second to register the odd sight before Dobby abandoned all decorum and jumped up and hugged his hero around the middle with more strength than he looked like he possessed. "Harry Potter, sir! Harry Potter!" he squealed. "Dobby has been hoping to see Harry Potter again, sir, and Harry Potter has come to see Dobby's new family!"

"Erm, yeah, it's good to see you too, Dobby," Harry replied with as much sincerity as he could muster. He could have done without having the life squeezed out of him.

A giggle came from down the hall: "Alright, Dobby, let him breathe."

Dobby slipped to the floor and escorted Harry into the house. "Yes, Miss Hermione," he said sheepishly.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry said.

"Hey, Harry." She hugged him much more gently than Dobby did. "How have you been doing?"

"I'm fine—a lot better than last summer, really."

"Your relatives—?"

"Same as always, but they're scared of McGonagall." Harry smiled at that, but Hermione had to force it.

"Hello, Harry," Mr. Granger cut in.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Granger," Harry said, shaking both of their hands. "Thank you so much for letting me come over. I'd probably go mental and turn Dudley into a newt if I couldn't get away from him all summer."

"A newt?" Mrs. Granger said worriedly, looking to her daughter.

"Would he get better?" Mr. Granger added, only joking a little.

"He doesn't mean literally," Hermione assured them. "We don't get to human transfiguration until sixth year." For some reason, they didn't find that too reassuring.

"Well, we're happy to entertain one of Hermione's friends," Mrs. Granger said. "Please come in. Dobby's got dinner all ready."

When Harry saw the dining room table all laid out, a lot of his reservations about Hermione hiring Dobby evaporated. He might be a little off his rocker, but he could cook as well as the next elf, and any time he could get a big meal over the summer was good in his book. Dobby still looked giddy as he sat at the table to eat with them (on a stack of phone books). He raised an eyebrow at Hermione.

"It took us a week to get him comfortable with that," she muttered.

That must be a sight that was never seen in magical households, Harry thought, and he wondered with amusement what Draco Malfoy would say if he walked in right now. "This is very good, Dobby, thank you," he said after taking a few bites.

Dobby blushed: "Dobby is happy to serve, Harry Potter, sir."

"So, Harry," Mrs. Granger said. "We haven't had a chance to talk to you since last summer, but Hermione's told us all about your year—including that business with the basilisk. That was very…brave of you to go against that thing." She wanted to say reckless, irresponsible, and insane, but she held back for Hermione's sake.

"Well, we couldn't leave Ginny to die," Harry replied uneasily. "And Riddle would have come after the rest of us sooner or later. He'd already attacked Hermione once, and he wanted to get me, too—"

Hermione glared at him to be careful what he said. The one thing she hadn't told her parents about the whole ordeal was that Riddle had specifically targeted her to get to him. She didn't think they would take that very well. "We're just glad he's gone, now," she said. Well, that version of him is gone, she added mentally.

"Yeah…It's Hermione who really deserves the credit, though," Harry said, trying to be helpful. "We never would have found the Chamber or known how to fight the basilisk without her."

"But you were the one who actually killed it and practically got flattened for your trouble," she tried to deflect attention away from herself.

"Yes, but you were the one who figured out how to get rid of Riddle."

"Well, like Professor Dumbledore said, we all saved each other at least once that night," she said quickly.

"Yeah, I guess we make a pretty good team, huh?" Harry said awkwardly.

Hermione just nodded noncommittally and said, "Let's just hope we don't have to test that again."

Even so, it was a very good visit. In fact, he had never before been able to just sit at a dinner table and talk like a normal family. (The Weasleys didn't count as a normal family, he reminded himself.) The Grangers told him about their lives and clarified him on some of the finer points of goings on in the muggle world that he couldn't keep up with. Harry didn't have much in the way of life experience to talk about himself, but they were all very understanding. He wondered if this is what things would have been like had his parents lived. Would he have had brothers and sisters? Would they have had an elf? Would the elf have eaten at the table? Probably not on that last one, but still, he hoped Hermione could appreciate how lucky she was. He got back to Privett Drive late, but smiling, and no amount of grumbling from his relatives would get him down. That visit would definitely keep him going for a few more weeks.

Hermione found that she was as busy as ever this summer. Between summer homework, getting a head start on her new linear algebra studies, crash courses in muggle science and history, and her writeup for Magizoology Monthly, there wasn't much time to devote to her little spellcrafting side project, but she definitely wasn't about to abandon that one.

She had learnt the basics of reverse-engineering spells in Arithmancy class last year, along the same lines as spell detection, analysis, and modification. She hadn't had much cause to use these skills in practice yet, besides her basilisk-defying Colour-Change Charm, but she decided now would be a good time to put them to good use, when she had some spare time over the summer. After all, there was a certain spell she really wanted to learn how to cast, and it was only by reverse-engineering it that she would be able to understand it well enough to do it.

She started with what she knew. First, it was a spell that affected people. That meant that it had to include certain arithmantic elements that made it more complicated than many basic charms. Just as Gamp's Law prohibited transfiguring true life as one of its five principle exceptions (that is, real living things as opposed to just magical constructs), so too were many spells less effective or ineffective on living things.

Second, it was a hex (unless it was one of those that were mislabelled, like the Leg-Locker Curse was arithmantically a jinx). That meant that its main mechanism of action was described using transcendental equations. Those were sixth-year-level maths, for the most part, but that was trivial for her, and the techniques were much the same.

Third, the spell was, at its heart, a transformation spell. That was the hardest part. In class, they had focused less on the arithmancy behind transfiguation than on that of charms, and the textbooks were the same, but she was pretty sure she had enough to go on.

Finally, she knew what the spell was supposed to do, what the incantation was, and a decent idea of the wand motion. That by itself wasn't enough to cast the spell, although one could probably get it by grinding away at it for a while. Instead, an understanding of the energies involved was what was required, and for that, she needed to work backwards through the arithmancy to reverse-engineer and re-craft the spell based on those parameters. It was far more difficult than anything they had done in class, but she also had all summer to do it. And as she looked at the notes she had laid out, she was pretty sure she could do it, even if she couldn't test it.

Hermione started working on the problem again, as she had been off and on from the start of the break, but today, she was soon interrupted by the arrival of a bedraggled-looking owl that proved to be bearing a letter from Ron. She gave Errol some water while she took the note and read it over with growing surprise. This was good news. It looked like the Weasleys had got a seriously lucky break. It actually worked out for her. Mum and Dad wanted to take a holiday soon, too, so they'd be away then, anyway. She just hoped Harry wouldn't take it too badly.

Dear Harry,

Guess what! Dad won the Daily Prophet Draw! That's the big yearly lottery from the newspaper. It's 700 galleons! We're gonna blow most of it on a holiday in Egypt to visit Bill, but Mum and Dad can get me a new wand now, so Hermione's off the hook. We want to have both of you over for dinner before we leave. Do you think you can come next Saturday? Hermione's folks are coming, too. Let me know what the muggles say, and don't let them get you down!

Bye,

Ron

Flooing to the Burrow last year was disorienting, but the Grangers thought it was probably preferable to what they were doing now: ridng the Knight Bus.

"Next time, we're taking the car," Hermione yelled. She and her parents were huddled together against the wall, trying to keep from sliding out of their seats and hoping the bus didn't crash horribly.

"That's what Ron said last year," Harry replied. He wasn't having much fun on the Bus himself, but he'd been on it enough times that he just gritted his teeth and held on tight.

They made it to the Burrow in one piece, being dropped off at the end of a long driveway—the edge of the property's wards. As they walked up the driveway, Mrs. Weasley came out of the house, flanked by several of the younger Weasleys.

"Mr. and Mrs. Granger, it's good to meet you again," Mrs. Weasley said. "You, too, Hermione, Harry. Come in, come in."

They all filed into the house, where they could already smell the scent of one of Mrs. Weasley's famous dinners in the oven. The Burrow had the same warm, homey, chaotic look as last year, except for the pile of suitcases by the door, where they were half-packed to leave on their trip. The children mingled in the crowded living room while Mrs. Weasley went back to the kitchen to set the table.

"Hey, mates," Ron said, slapping Harry on the back. "Good to see you."

"You, too, Ron," Harry said.

"H-hi, Harry," a timid voice said. They turned to see Ginny blushing furiously and struggling to meet his eyes.

"Hi, Ginny," Harry said, waving slightly. Ginny waved back, but then turned her attention elsewhere to catch her breath.

"Congratulations on the trip," Hermione said. She hugged Ron kind of awkwardly and standoffishly. "It sounds like fun. We're going to France next week ourselves."

"Cool. Are you gonna see the magical part of Paris?"

"I want to, but we don't really know how to find it."

"Percy probably knows," Ginny spoke up. "He knows about all that Ministry-type stuff."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes," George said, leaning in with a grin. "He's got it all worked out to become Minster for Magic. He's already writing some bloke from International Cooperation or something like that."

"It gets right annoying," Fred added.

"But I'm sure he can find out for you."

"Thanks, I'll ask him."

Percy, as it turned out, was mostly holed up in his room these days. From his younger siblings' letters, Harry and Hermione had learnt that the Weasleys had had a long family discussion about last year. It turned out that while Percy was concerned Ginny might be ill, he wasn't snooping on her, like she thought. In fact, he thought she was snooping on him, trying to catch him with his girlfriend, who happened to be Penelope Clearwater. Percy still felt guilty about that, and it was awkward for him and Ginny to be in the same room. Or perhaps it was more that, as the Twins suspected, he was spending a lot of time writing Penelope. In any case, when Hermione caught him and asked, he didn't know where to find the magical quarter in Paris off the top of his head, but he said it was listed in a directory in his room that he would check for them later.

"Well, it's not going to eat itself," Mr. Weasley said once they were all seated at the table. "Tuck in."

The food was excellent, just like at their last visit. Mrs. Weasley truly did have a gift for it, and they could be sure she wanted to treat her guests. "I wanted to thank you personally for raising such a brave and caring daughter, Mr. and Mrs. Granger," she said. "We're all so grateful to her and Harry for saving Ginny."

"Um, well, she certainly is one of a kind," Emma said uneasily. If only that didn't nearly get her killed.

Thankfully, no one pressed the point (Hermione glared at Harry and Ron not to make a big deal out of it), and they soon changed the subject. Ron mentioned the latest news in the group phase of the Quidditch World Cup. Hermione hadn't been paying much attention to that—she had barely registered that there was a Quidditch World Cup—but she wondered if it might be an interesting exercise to take a look at the statistics. The entire Weasley Family was into Quidditch (to varying degrees, of course), so the Grangers were treated to a lengthy discourse on the subject. Ginny's interests, though, were a little closer to home. She had been practising her flying a lot now that her brothers were finally letting her fly with them, and Fred and George, at least, had good things to say about her skills. Hermione was glad to see Ginny wasn't hanging on Harry anymore—not ignoring him by any means, but trying to open up to Hermione and her own brothers and not freezing up trying to talk to Harry directly. It was hard to tell, but she thought Harry looked a little more at ease about it, too.

Meanwhile, Mr. Weasley had a whole new batch of questions about the muggle world, and it took the combined efforts of Mrs. Weasley and Percy to keep him in line. This year, though, the Grangers had some more questions about the magical lifestyle, on account of trying to mesh their life with—to put it in muggle terms—a domestic worker who had been raised in that culture.

"So Ronald tells us you actually hired a house elf?" Mr. Weasley said.

"Oh, yes," Emma said. "Dobby's actually been pretty good so far. A good cook, really dedicated, and the house has never looked better."

"I'm sure he is. It's just so strange to think of an elf working for wages. I don't think I've ever heard of anything like it."

"Well, it's true most elves would never think of doing it," Hermione said. "And I should hope very few are abused badly enough to drive them to it like Dobby was."

"We were sceptical ourselves," Dan said, "but it's actually worked out for us. He wanted someone to pay him, and in the muggle world, we're required to pay him something, even if it's not very much. Plus, he can look after Hermione if there's an emergency."

Hermione nearly choked on her drink. Did that mean her parents were leaning toward sending her back to Hogwarts, or was he speaking more generally? But he didn't clarify himself, and the conversation moved on.

"That certainly does sound useful," Mrs. Weasley quipped. "That's the same reason I love our clock so much." She motioned to the nine-handed clock on the wall that indicated where everyone in the family was. Hermione noticed what she hadn't last year—that one of the positions on the clock read "Mortal Peril". That would be handy, she thought. "It's not quite the same, of course," Mrs. Weasley added. "But it's still good to have."

"It certainly is," Emma said, impressed. "Where did you get it?"

"Oh, it's a Prewett Family heirloom," she replied offhandedly. "We've got the old family spellbook that tells how to make one in the attic, but I've only ever understood the part about how to add new hands, myself."

"Ah, well, maybe Hermione can take a look sometime."

All of the Weasleys stopped and stared at Emma.

"Did I say something wrong?" she said, looking around nervously.

"No, I'm sorry, Mrs. Granger," Mrs. Weasley told her. "You wouldn't know the customs. A lot of the old families have family spellbooks. They…they're really…well, if you're thinking that…"

Percy saved her: "They're not magically or legally bound to the family, if that's what you were thinking, but a lot of us don't like to show them to people outside the family."

"Right. Thank you, Percy. It's just a matter of family identity—and also of not giving powerful spells to people who can't handle them."

"Which is why she's never let us see it," Fred said. His mother glared at him.

"Oh dear, I'm sorry," Emma said. "I didn't mean anything by it."

"Not to worry," Mr. Weasley said warmly, "I'm sure there's a lot to learn coming into the magical world. And it's not unheard of to show the family spells to good friends, anyway."

"Well, besides, Hermione and Harry are practically family already," George said.

"Yes, of course, after the past two years the children have gone through. And you're all welcome any time," Mrs. Weasley said.

Hermione turned pink and smiled shyly at that, while Harry was beaming. She still thought he would have preferred to stay here all summer (and if the books his family was mentioned in were accurate, he could easily pay his own way) if Dumbledore hadn't pushed him to go back to his relatives. One thing was for sure, she was still going to keep a close eye on Harry's well-being for as long as she could.

"I'm sorry we'll both be away at the same time, Harry," she told him as they prepared to leave. "You won't really have anywhere to go next month."

Harry's expression fell a little, but he kept a brave face on. "It's okay. The Dursleys haven't been too bad so far. I've dealt with a lot worse."

"It would still be better if you had somewhere to go."

"Yeah…but I'm sure Professor McGonagall or Professor Vector will come up with something if there's a problem."

"You know, Harry," Mr. Weasley said, "if you do have a real emergency, you could go over to the Diggorys. Amos Diggory works at the Ministry, too, and I'm sure he'll help you out if you explain things."

"Oh, of course," Hermione added. "I know Cedric would help you if you need it, too."

"Thanks, guys," Harry answered. "I'll remember that."