Chapter 117 – New Beginnings
Albus was surprisingly accurate in predicting that it was wise for the muggles at Hogwarts to stay there for a week or two before returning to their homes. Things did not return to rights in the muggle world quickly, despite the preparations and efforts of so many in the magical world.
There was a tremendous outpouring of grief over the unavoidable tragedies that accompanied the sleeping spell's original casting. After all, hundreds of airplanes had crashed, there were thousands of fatal automobile accidents, there were fires, there were boat wrecks. The mourners who awoke to these losses needed time to grieve before they were able and ready to rejoin the world productively.
The magical world pitched in to be sure that the food, energy, water and other necessities were at hand as soon as the muggles were awake, and made sure that the muggles picked up their part as they became available. It took careful and discrete guidance from behind the scenes to manage through absences and disruptions, lest the work be undone by open spots.
The Royals had relocated to Balmoral Castle within a day or two, a move made easier for all when Albus learned that the Hogwarts house elves loved the place. A prior owner had been a wizard and the house elves immediately recognized that their kind had lived there happily in the past. The Royals were amid their familiar surroundings, and their meals served and other needs met by unseen house elves rotating over to the nearby castle.
As muggles resumed their lives, and reconnected with their daily routines, the initial period of quiet acceptance of the presence of magic in the world did not last long at all. The anti-magic backlash was strong and powerful, once it started. Agitators were quick to question the intentions of the wizarding world, provoking suspicion and paranoia. The wizarding community had to take special precautions, and many who had been active in their support of the return of the muggle world to normal retreated back to their unplottable or shielded communities as quickly as they could.
It was good to have Balmoral Castle staffed and functioning, because the messages from the princes had to be expanded quickly to get ahead of the growing suspicion, distrust and overt hostility about magic and magical people. The studio that had been set up to tape the initial message from the princes and Harry was put to use again almost as soon as the Royals returned there.
The Queen was persuaded to tape a message herself, as was her son. And the princes invited their friend, Harry, to tape several further messages with them, to put a face that could belong to the boy next door in any muggle community before the people of Britain as the image of a magical person.
Britain was able to avoid the worst of the anti-magic marches and riots that occurred in some parts of the world, but there were still pockets of protests against magic and anyone perceived to have magic.
X X X X X X X X X X
One of the Death Eaters who had returned to their Dark Lord's side fished a knut out of his pocket to pay the owl who had delivered the morning Daily Prophet to Riddle Manor. The newspaper was presented, together with his morning tea and sweet bun, to Voldemort as he sat at the long table in the manor dining room. Voldemort opened the newspaper and even on his snake-like face, his shock was evident.
The Ministry was abandoning centuries of precedent, keeping the wizarding world shielded from muggles, and telling everyone about the magical world? He'd read about the efforts those damn fools at the Ministry were making to fix up the muggle world, but he'd never expected that they'd actually tell the muggles who they were and how they did it!
Harry Potter himself was speaking to muggles on television, identifying himself as a wizard? He was appearing in these public messages with members of the muggle Royal family, including the Queen herself? What in Merlin's name was going on out there? What was their angle?
Much more significantly, what did all this mean for him and his plans?
He had always assumed that his own threats to carry out attacks on or in front of muggles would be a weapon that he could wield against the Ministry, when the time came. He had expected that they would be frantic to keep him from doing anything that divulged the magical world to the muggles, but apparently that wasn't going to be the case.
Clearly, this new openness with the muggle world was part of the Ministry's plan. He needed to understand it more fully, to best adjust his own plans for maximum impact. He needed to know what they were telling the muggles.
Voldemort thought back to his last stroll into the village of Little Hangleton, trying to remember what shops he saw there. He was fairly certain that there was at least one, perhaps more, that likely sold newspapers, and possibly a store that sold televisions. The old manor had been wired for electricity by his father's family; he'd certainly had no use for it since he'd moved in. He wondered if the power still flowed, either in his own manor or in the caretaker's house by the edge of the property.
Despite the fact that the morning Daily Prophet had revealed stunning information that destroyed the plans he'd been working on for over a month now, Voldemort was in much better spirits when his breakfast ended than he'd been in for weeks now. He had a glimpse of the Ministry's strategy, which he'd not had before. He had some ideas as to how he could learn more about the entire situation, and this energized him. Scrapping plans a month in the making was not optimal, but in truth, they weren't very strong plans, anyway. He needed more information, and now he knew how to get it.
Alas, even in this era of openness between the muggle and magical worlds, his own appearance was such that he knew it was not advisable for him to stroll into town himself to do his own shopping. His loyal Death Eater was instructed how to dress to avoid drawing attention, provided with some muggle money, and dispatched into town to buy muggle newspapers and a television set.
X X X X X X X X X X
Cornelius Fudge had departed from the Ministry via floo, not sure how long panic and confusion would last there. It was critical that he not be stuck in the floo system when the Aurors realized he'd escaped, as one of the first things they'd do is shut it down, so he chose to floo just a few fireplaces away, to a public floo connection in a seedy pub on Knockturn Alley. He was hardly a denizen of Knockturn Alley himself, of course, but he'd been there once or twice over the years and had made a point of remembering the name of this particular pub. He knew it to be a place where people made a practice of not noticing things that did not directly involve themselves, and a place where people would never cooperate with Aurors or others from the Ministry.
Fudge was the only person who departed the Ministry that day for the Knockturn Alley floo, so he was alone as he stepped out into the pub. The regulars paid him no attention, and he quickly and anonymously made his way into the Alley proper. It was far from deserted, but as usual, the witches and wizards milling about the alley all kept their hoods up, and their eyes down as they shuffled along. He did the same. Even if someone did recognize him, he would be long gone before they could tell anyone.
Years back, as Cornelius had begun his political climb, he was making promises he knew he would never keep and alliances that he knew would crumble. It occurred to him that he would be amassing at least as many enemies as allies along the way of his rise in the Ministry. The vagaries of power meant that there could come a time when he could be in a great deal of trouble, and would need to disappear. His wife loved living in the splendor of their home in High Hill County, and he was fairly certain she'd never be willing to liquidate that to follow him into exile or hiding. He'd known for years that he needed to make other arrangements.
Rather uncommon for the old families he sought to emulate, title to the Fudge home was put in Emmaline Fudge's name alone. Likewise, a significant amount of the assets they accumulated during their marriage were in Emmaline's name alone. As he explained to his solicitor, in his line of work, fortunes could shift quickly, and he wanted to be certain the Emmaline and the children were never impacted by any political nonsense that might come his way.
Emmaline never knew it, but an equally significant amount of assets, accumulated mostly though bribes and payments otherwise not in any records, were stashed in various accounts and safe places known only to Cornelius. Some of those funds had been used to acquire a small home in a muggle community near Abbeville, in the Picardie region of France, across the English Channel and just within range of Cornelius' ability to apparate. It was to that house that he apparated as soon as he arrived in Knockturn Alley.
The house in Abbeville was on the border of the commercial part of town, an area he had selected for its lack of neighborliness or sense of community. He had a cleaning lady and gardener engaged to keep it presentable and create the impression of an occupied house. Through the years since he'd acquired it, his own visits were often as infrequent as once in six months, lasting sometimes for just a few minutes. However, as events had recently begun to turn against him, he'd been there more frequently, making sure it was ready to be used as a safe house should he have to bolt from England.
Cornelius heaved a great sigh of relief as he shrugged out of his hooded cloak and realized he'd truly escaped the prison cell at the Ministry. He poured himself a huge brandy as he set a fire in the large fireplace, and sat before it contemplating his new life and his new circumstances. He began planning his next moves. He was confident that his story did not end here. He was sure he'd be back in England as the Minister of Magic again – it was just a matter of time.
X X X X X X X X X X
Vernon and Petunia Dursley began making plans to return to Privet Drive the day after Vernon and Dudley woke up.
Vernon announced loudly when he awoke that day that he'd had an awful night's sleep, and Dudley agreed with him. For her part, Petunia had slept more soundly than she ever recalled sleeping.
"I think it must have been my relief at finally having you two back with me," she fawned. "I slept like a baby! Perhaps you two had already had too much sleep so you didn't rest as well. I'm sure you'll sleep better tonight."
"I am sure I'll sleep soundly once I'm back in my own bed. In my own house. Civilized people do not sleep in tents," Vernon observed dourly.
Petunia was tempted to point out that this tent had walls that looked just like plaster, and solid wooden doors, and all the other accoutrements of their civilized house back on Privet Drive, but she wisely held her tongue. Debating Vernon when he was in one of his moods was never a good idea.
"Well, come along, then. Breakfast! We can talk about returning home over some tea, and eggs, and sausage, and fresh bread." Even though none of them tasted food any longer, Vernon and Dudley still craved the experience of stuffing it into their faces, so Petunia's suggestion did get them out and moving to the Great Hall.
That day set a routine that the Dursleys followed for the duration of their stay at Hogwarts. As soon as Vernon and Dudley had stuffed their faces at breakfast, Petunia shuffled them out of the castle to the lawn. The first day out on the lawn was notable for the Dursleys first encounter with young witches and wizards on brooms, as one of the most popular of the summer activities was Madam Hooch's Broom Safety program. She and members of the House quidditch teams (and assorted others who wanted an excuse to spend the days on their broomsticks) had created the program for the purpose of teaching youngsters not yet old enough to attend Hogwards the rudiments of flying.
Dudley was the first to realize that those things in the air off in the distance were not large birds.
"Mummy, over there – are those people, and are they flying?" he'd asked, pointing off to the very bottom of the sloping lawn, something that came close to awe in his voice.
"Yes, most likely, darling. These people do, indeed, ride broomsticks. There seems to be some game that they are all dotty about – it looks vaguely like soccer in the air, but I don't know the rules. They love to fly. I'd heard that they were going to have a summer program for the magical children staying on in the castle, and that looks like it. The woman with the gray hair is a teacher here, and it looks like older students are working with her. Do you want to wander down for a look?"
Dudley was fascinated with the flying. Little children were being helped onto small broomsticks that stayed low to the ground, walked around by an older student, almost like when he learned to ride a bike and his mother walked along holding him upright. Others, a bit bigger and more skilled, were actually up in the air moving about, while older children and some adults hovered in the air watching them. Off to the side, it looked like some sort of game was underway, as students were darting all over and there was a large ball being tossed about.
While Vernon was still extremely opposed to anything unnatural, even he was curious. "Well, Pet, they are still freaks, but that is unlikely to be something we'll be seeing once we go back to Privet Drive. Let's go down under those trees, and we can watch them for a while, from a distance."
The threesome sat beneath some tall trees, where house elves had placed some tables and benches, and watched in wonder (despite himself, Vernon was mesmerized by the effortlessness with which the witches and wizards darted about on their brooms). Petunia found a pitcher of frosty butterbeer on the table in midmorning, as well as a samovar on a nearby table, perpetually filled with piping hot tea. She and Vernon enjoyed the familiar brew, while Dudley sampled the icy, frothy (if tasteless, to him) beverage.
They took lunch outside, slightly more casual offerings than were available in the Great Hall, but without the need for a claustrophobia-inducing walk through the dark, cool halls of the castle. As the afternoon began, Petunia suggested a stroll, and her family visited the shores of the lake one day, removing their shoes and socks to wade in the cool water, and the green houses on other days, to marvel at the strange and dangerous plants.
X X X X X X X X X X
Hermione was in heaven. She had a challenging research project, time to indulge it, and when she reached the limits of what she could extract from the Hogwart's library, the promise of access to even more books and records from either Madam Pomfrey's own library or through her, medical materials at St. Mungo's or even the Ministry. It didn't get better than this.
She'd spent Wednesday scouring the journals in the main library, and had used her access to that general research material to refine the criteria by which she sought out events that might have involved a transfer of magic to others. By the end of the day, she'd developed a checklist that enabled her to assess a news report and extract information for further investigation efficiently and quickly. She began deploying that Thursday as she began working in the material kept in the Restricted Section of the library. By the following week, she was a regular in Madam Pomfrey's office, poring over materials in her small medical library, and a few files had even been retrieved at her request from the records kept at the Ministry of Magic Infirmary.
X X X X X X X X X X
Harry began with work on wandless magic with the Headmaster right after breakfast on Thursday. An owl had dropped a note into his oatmeal that morning.
"Bloody menace," Ron grumbled, shooing the incompetent owl off, as Harry carefully wiped sticky oatmeal from the outside of the note. Hermione shushed Ron and offered the owl a piece of bacon. "What's up, Harry?"
"It's from Professor Dumbledore. He'd said before that he was going to start to teach me wandless magic, because of, well, you know. Better to control it, I guess. He's ready to start this morning, it seems."
A look of jealously flickered across Ron's face, met by one of annoyance from Hermione. They'd been over the fact that this was something no one would ever consider beginning at Harry's age for medical and magical reasons, as it was potentially dangerous and damaging to such a young wizard. This was a step that they were taking for Harry because he was more in danger from the accidental release of magic. Ron finally seemed to recall all that, and with a sheepish nod to Hermione, he calmed down.
"Wicked. You're going to tell us about this, right? I know we can't do it yet, but still. . . " Ron answered.
"Harry will keep us informed, but as we're at least twenty years away from safely doing this ourselves, instructions are not needed right now, Ron," Hermione observed, smiling at Ron's eternal role as "younger brother," even to someone actually a few months younger than him. His brothers had made a habit of rubbing in all the things they could do but he could not as he grew up, and it did seem cruel that even with his best mate, he was once again watching on the sidelines because he wasn't old enough. She was certain that Harry would not emulate the older Weasley boys and torment Ron with what he couldn't do, but it had to smart.
"Hey, we don't know that I'll be able to do this, you know?" Harry interjected. He smiled gratefully at Hermione, recognizing her effort to placate Ron. "I'll keep you posted on what we do, and how I'm managing. But don't expect much. This is supposed to be really hard. I have a lot of power, but as I understand it, using wandless is more about control, and that's never been my strong suit."
"Well, there'll always be a spot for you in the flying classes that Madam Hooch is organizing. I'll be helping out down there, so come by as soon as you can, then," Ron offered with a smile.
When Harry entered the Headmaster's office, he was pleased to see that Severus was already there. They were supposed to be learning this together, although he suspected that Severus might already know how to do it.
"Good morning, Sir," Harry greeted Albus, as he joined Severus in sitting across the desk from the Headmaster.
Albus steepled his fingers in front of him as he leaned back.
"Harry, I do hope I am not doing you any harm in what we are about to work on. I have asked Madam Pomfrey to check your magical pathways after this session, to monitor any negative effects. Severus will also be watching your pathways, as well. Most wizards can never master wandless magic, no matter how sturdy their magical pathways. They simply do not have magic strong enough to act, absent the use of a wand to truly focus what magic they have. Wandless magic requires that the wizard focus his magic with his mind, in a way just as you do when you point a wand and direct your magic now, but without the specific direction of the wand."
Harry listened thoughtfully, but with a certain dread. Yes, he had lots of magical strength, apparently, but focus and skill? Not so much. He wasn't entirely sure which of those aspects of his magical talents were primary in making this work, but it certainly seemed like this involved something that might not be his strongest asset.
"Severus, I believe you have learned some of this on your own already," Albus stated, not a question but a statement of fact. Severus nodded in acknowledgement. Nothing got past the old man's notice, even his own after-hours practice, it appeared.
"I observed the Dark Lord doing wandless magic, and investigated the process. He of course never offered me any instruction. I never observed any of his Death Eaters using wandless magic, so I gather he never offered this instruction to anyone. However, what writings I found on the subject would suggest that at least some of those surrounding Voldemort should be capable of doing this, and were of an age that it would not be imprudent to attempt it. However, even with research and investigation, I realized that this is not a subject best learned through study. Mastery requires tutoring and practice."
Albus nodded, pleased that Severus confirmed the importance of the role of an instructor in this subject. "What have you found you can do, wandlessly?"
"I have only worked with simple spells – accio, levitation, simple movement and intention spells. I recognized the damage I might do to myself in using wandless, and having no mentor, thought to limit my risk with spells that required minimal power and focus."
"Most wise of you, Severus. The first spells we teach students of wandless magic are, indeed, chosen because they are simple, and take little effort with even only slightly focused magic. I think we will all find that, with some instruction and practice, you and Harry can master wandless magic completely. I hope that when Harry finds this new way to access and use his magic, his mastery of this process will help him with overflow. Instead of experiencing spillage, the extra magic will simply go into wandless expression of his original intent."
Albus explained the process and watched as Severus and Harry attempted the tasks he set for them. As expected, Severus was already able to perform the simple spells. Harry took to wandless magic very quickly, surprising the others with the ease and speed with which he progressed.
Once the Headmaster had explained to him how to focus within himself and direct his magic, Harry felt that the process made total sense. He wasn't able to perform the spells on his first attempt, of course, but even each failed spell seemed to help him understand better how to approach this to make it work. By the end of the morning, to his own as well as the others' surprise, Harry had actually been able to summon a book off the Headmaster's desk into his own hands, wandlessly summoning it with the thought, "Accio!" Granted, that was a simple, first-year spell, and he had found it necessary to articulate the spell in his head, but to manage any specific task without a wand in the first lesson was remarkable.
When it was nearly lunchtime, Albus asked that they check with Madam Pomfrey in the Infirmary before joining the others for the midday meal. Severus ran a few scans of his own on Harry before they left, to get his own baseline. He found no wear to Harry's magical channels, unlike what had occurred when he sent out bursts of uncontrolled magic. If the mediwitch confirmed this, Severus would have greater confidence in the scans he ran as he and Harry practiced.
Madam Pomfrey had made her displeasure clear that Albus proposed to teach Harry, in particular, to use wandless magic, although she accepted his judgment that this was a skill that would likely prevent harm to him in the future. She ran her scans and scowled. "Are you sure you were using wandless magic? There is absolutely nothing remarkable about your magical channels – they read completely normal. After a first lesson in wandless, there is always a bit of stress."
Severus just grunted in reply. Silly woman, asking such a question! Although he was intrigued with Harry's rapid progress in using wandless magic and the fact that it did not have any impact on his magical channels. Most interesting.
Harry's mornings thereafter consisted of his wandless magic training sessions with the Headmaster and Severus. His afternoons, while his own, were often as not taken up with visits to Balmoral Castle to tape further messages to quell fears and panic in the muggle world, or consultations with representatives of the Ministry on a variety of muggle-related issues.
Harry found it very amusing that he was able to make valuable contributions to the Ministry's efforts primarily because he had grown up not knowing that he was a wizard. He wished that he'd had more exposure to the muggle world beyond his cupboard, the small bedroom and the yard at Privet Drive, but even what he'd learned at school and from the odd program he caught now and then on the telly was welcomed by the Ministry. He'd even interrupted Hermione's work in the Infirmary office a few times to get her thoughts and insights on things.
Harry was usually able to get down to the lawn by the late afternoons, for some flying with Ron and whoever was still out there. Sometimes, they flew out over the lake, other times, over the forest, and if enough people were around, a game of quidditch might get played.
Severus' afternoons were given over to finishing grading his year-end exams as quickly as he could. He was always anxious to be rid of any reminder of the time spent (wasted was perhaps a more accurate term) with his classes during the school year. Once he had delivered his grade report to Minerva, he was free to immerse himself in his own research.
He was fascinated with the speed with which Harry was mastering wandless magic, all without any damage to his magical channels. He had several theories as to why Harry was able to avoid every single potential harm from his study of wandless magic at such a young age. Naturally, he wondered whether any of the potions administered to Harry in the aftermath of the most recent "leakage" situation might have contributed to strengthening his channels.
While Harry's problem with massive bursts of uncontrolled magic pouring out of him was totally unique, magical channels were implicated in a number of magical maladies that were unfortunately far more common. Youngsters had their problems getting their magic to flow through their wands and singed their channels. Adults had spells backfire on them, whether because of a damaged wand or too much uncontrolled emotion when casting spells and damaged their channels. There were even a few illnesses that afflicted the channels, involving the formation of painful lesions or cramping, and one, fortunately rare, condition caused them to atrophy.
Beyond all that, Severus had noted that when he strained to produce a wandless spell, he felt a sensation running in the same places that he'd endured agony when subjected to the Cruciatus Curse. The wizarding medical establishment had always assumed that the Cruciatus Curse ran along nerves to inflict its excruciating pain. Severus had even developed some potions that calmed the nervous system for use in easing post-Cruciatus symptoms, but maybe the problem wasn't the nervous system. The nerves and magical channels ran along similar lines, but they were not the same. Far too many adult witches and wizards had endured the Cruciatus Curse and even some other "forgivable" but nonetheless very painful and damaging hexes and curses that inflicted profound and long-lasting damage. Might there be something more focused and appropriate to ease or even reverse that damage?
With thoughts of Miss Granger pursuing research in an uninvestigated area because the wizarding medical community had never drawn what now seem to be rather obvious conclusions from reported incidents, Severus was finally able to repair to his private lab with his own iconoclastic research agenda.
X X X X X X X X X X
Some issue at the Ministry required the Headmaster's presence in London in the middle of the next week, and Harry had his first chance to take Ron up on his invitation to join him at Madam Hooch's Broom Safety classes. He joined the ranks of quidditch-playing students who were monitoring the flying of the more adventurous of the youngsters, those who were climbing higher and flying faster than might have been prudent. The students had to be alert, as at least once a day, some fool-hardy young witch or wizard lost their grip or control of the broom and had to be caught as they fell from the sky.
After Harry had plucked his fifth faller of the morning from free-fall, carrying the child safely back to earth on his own broomstick, Madam Hooch took him aside.
"Harry, I'm delighted to have you join us, and appreciate your willingness to pitch in. But I think we might need to move you to another role. I'm not sure if the children are distracted by your presence, or actually hoping to meet you, but they seem to be falling off their brooms at a disturbing rate to day, especially when they are in the area you are patrolling. Would you mind? I think we could use you on the ground with the little ones."
"Not at all, Madam Hooch," Harry replied. He suspected that the last faller had deliberately let go of her broom, and was not willing to rule out that one or two of the others could have easily stayed on their brooms had they wanted to. It was a good feeling to help someone who had an accident, but he was afraid that someone would get hurt unnecessarily, the way this day was going.
Harry waved to Ron, and walked over to the grassy area where the smallest children were nervously standing about with training brooms. One of the Ravenclaw Prefects, Charlotte something-or-other, was pairing students with children, and she started when she realized that Harry Potter was her next student volunteer.
Smiling at her shocked expression, he explained. "I was working with the more advanced fliers, but we seemed to have a sudden problem with fallers, and I'm not sure they all fell by accident. Madam Hooch suggested this would be safer for all concerned."
With a nod, Charlotte looked at her list. "It did seem to get a bit raucous up there I noticed. I have a nice little boy, scared half out of his wits about flying. He'd probably be thrilled to meet you and that might actually get him onto the broom. Harry Savoy his name is – over there." She gestured to a small three-year old standing alone, looking scared and miserable.
Harry nodded at Charlotte. "Harry Savoy it is, then. Thanks."
Big Harry approached little Harry and greeted the boy. "Hi, Harry, I'm Harry, too. Nice to meet you."
Without looking up, now in the throes of paralyzing embarrassment, the little boy mumbled "Hi."
Kneeling down to be at the boy's level, Harry asked, "So, what seems to be the problem here? Have you ever used a broom or a training broom before?"
The little head shook, a stand-in for a verbal response, "no."
"OK, there's a first time for everything. I remember the very first time I was on a broom, here at Hogwarts. It was fantastic. Are you scared?"
The little head stayed still, but the shoulders shrugged. A definite "maybe."
Big Harry was looking around to see how others were handling this. The training brooms were charmed to float a few feet above the ground without any magical input from the rider. His role would mainly be to coax the little one up onto the broom and then hold him steady as he walked the boy on the broom slowly around the lawn.
"Nothing to be scared about, Harry. I can pick you up and get you on the broom. You sit on it, and put your feet into the stirrups, which really hold you steady on the broom. If anything is uncomfortable, I'll put a good softening charm in place, no one will know. I'll hold onto you the whole time, so you can't fall off. Once you are seated and holding on to the broom, I'll walk you slowly, so you can get a feel for this."
With a very brave nod, little Harry agreed to be hoisted onto the broom, but he was not going to let go of big Harry's neck. It took the Harrys a few minutes, and several repositionings of arms and legs, but eventually, little Harry was seated properly on his broom, and big Harry was standing beside him, holding him firmly under the arms.
"Alright, then – you've got it, Harry! This is how to sit on a broom – your feet stay in the stirrups like that. It can eventually help you steer, but right now, you'll feel more secure, and you won't slide off the back of the broom when it moves. Squeezing tighter isn't going to solve anything – it's all about proper positioning and balance. Hands always on the broom in front, just like that. No fancy stuff, not until you know you are ready. When you are ready, it will all come naturally. For now, let's just move a bit."
Big Harry kept up the chatter to distract the frightened child as he took a few steps with the broom keeping pace alongside him. He could tell the boy wanted nothing more than to release the broom and get hold of him again, so he kept speaking and encouraging him, moving all the while.
Under the trees, Amaranth Savoy was sitting with the Dursleys, chatting away, oblivious to the looks of horror her story was garnering from Vernon and Dudley. She was clearly very pleased to have found her friend, Petunia, and was quite thrilled to meet the muggles, who surprised Petunia by being at least not rude. Petunia had to admit to herself, Amaranth was among the more "normal" of the magical people she'd met, and for some reason, she felt glad that her family was meeting the young woman.
"My Rose is doing just fine, she's already in an intermediate group. But my little Harry – he's just terrified of flying. We got him a training broom for Christmas this year, but he's afraid to use it. I tried helping him, but he just cries and cries. I asked the young lady running the program for little ones if maybe one of the older students might be able to help him. I worry about him."
Petunia shared her own story about helping Dudley learn to ride a bicycle, after first having to explain to Amaranth what that was. "He was a bit reluctant to let go of me, of course, but eventually, he found his balance and was comfortable on his own." Petunia tactfully omitted the part about Vernon installing a special pair of oversized training wheels he'd had machined at his shop; Dudley puffed up slightly at the version of this story his mother had shared.
The Dursleys had been watching the older students and their acrobatic moves high in the air, and had paid no attention to the actual classes, doing much less interesting things at a much lower altitude. As Amaranth had told them about Rose, they looked at the group to which she'd pointed, and observed children moving cautiously but deliberately just at the height of the smaller trees. When Amaranth told them about little Harry, they sought out the group at ground level working with training brooms. That was the hardest group to follow, as they seemed to be roaming all over, just getting the little ones used to being on broomsticks.
Petunia had mentioned that her family came down here to watch the flying in the morning, and took their lunch outside as well, and then visited either the lake or the greenhouses in the afternoons, so Amaranth directed her stream of conversation to cover observations about the plants in the greenhouse, the tools used there by those tending to the plants, and some of the uses to which those plants were put.
Amaranth was surprised by the gasps she got from Vernon and Dudley when describing the dragon-hide aprons and gloves. "Well, of course, dragon-hide is impervious to even the most corrosive saps and juices, so it's the best material to protect you and your clothes when you are working in the greenhouses. Some of those plants can get quite aggressive, and if they send out spores, or a tendril that you need to snip to get away from them, it's important to know you'll be safe from harm!"
Fortunately, before Amaranth could get around to telling about the Giant Squid or merpeople in the lake, which stories Petunia was reasonably sure would not be well-received by her family, it was lunchtime. The classes were disbanding, and those little children who had managed to stay on their brooms were being sent off on their brooms to find their parents. Little Harry, thrilled to have finally gotten the knack of staying upright on his training broom, wanted to fly over (at waist height) to his mother, with big Harry trotting along beside him, as the children had to be handed over to their parent by the student who'd been working with them.
Unfortunately, big Harry did not notice who little Harry's mother had been chatting with until he was right in their midst, keeping a hand on little Harry's shoulder as the youngster flew to his mother. He looked rather awkwardly at his aunt, uncle and cousin as he found Amaranth Savoy, to return her son.
"Uh, well, congratulations, Mrs. Savoy, Harry here is now able to fly on his training broom! Once he got the hang of it, he's been unstoppable. I stay with him, because it's his first day flying and all, but he knows the right way to sit, and how to hold on, and he's doing fantastic, right, Harry?"
The once shy child was beaming as his new friend tousled his hair, thrilled and proud of his accomplishment, and of the praise that had just been shared with his mother. For her part, Amaranth was totally star-struck.
"Oh, my! Harry Potter! I can't believe it, you worked with my little Harry! Oh, what a thrill this is, for both of us!"
The little boy was looking at Harry anew. "You're Harry Potter?" he asked, with wonder in his voice and his eyes big as saucers.
"Yep, that's me," big Harry agreed with a shrug. "I started working with older students, but I seemed to be distracting them. A few deliberately fell off their brooms because they wanted me to catch them, and we weren't going to allow that, so I moved along to the younger ones. I was happy when the prefect matching students with children pointed me to Harry here, as he looked like someone who could use a boost of confidence. I think you'll be a natural at this, Harry, when you get a bit older."
Amaranth gushed, "Mr. Potter, may we take a photo with you, please? I'll just summon my camera! Little Harry is named for you, you know. Such an inspiring story!" With her wand extended, she said "Accio, camera" and a few moments later, it flew into her hands. She arranged a photo with herself and little Harry standing on either side of big Harry, and with a wave of her wand, the camera clicked.
Amaranth was about to ask Petunia and her family to join them in a photo, but the look on Petunia's face told her this might not be as welcomed a gesture as one might hope. The Dursleys had visibly retreated from the celebration of young Harry's accomplishments, and were amazingly quiet as Harry spoke to Amaranth and little Harry.
Sensing that there was more going on than she might fully understand, Amaranth finally shook big Harry's hand a final time, and accepted his praise for her efforts in organizing the squib school, and led little Harry, now on his broom, off to find his sister, so they could return to their tent for lunch.
When they were gone, Harry turned to face his relatives.
Dudley was still processing some of the things Amaranth had said. That woman had named her son after Harry? She was so thrilled to meet him she wanted her picture taken with him? How could that be? He looked quite confused and uncertain.
Vernon looked menacing, as always, when he looked at Harry. Harry's own calmness seemed to rile Vernon. "You think just because we are surrounded by freaks, you can get away with anything, don't you, boy?" he growled.
Harry had no idea what he'd just "gotten away with" but he stood watching his uncle to see where this was going. He wondered if Severus had released the spell he'd placed on Vernon, as he did not seem to be experiencing any shortage of breath as he had a week ago in the Great Hall.
Vernon grinned an evil grin. "I hate you, boy. I wish that whoever took care of your dratted parents had completed the job with you. I wanted to turn you right over to an orphanage when we found you on our doorstep. We had a lovely little family and you ruined it! Your freakishness, strangeness – a blight on my happy home!"
Harry's calmness surprised even himself. He felt like he was outside his body, watching this little drama unfold, involving people he hardly knew. He realized that he truly did not care what his uncle thought or felt – that was totally irrelevant to him. He'd created a new life, his own life. He had a new family, and friends, everything he could want. He felt astonishingly free.
Vernon noticed the calmness, but reacted not with surprise but only more and greater rage. He raised his beefy hand, prepared to smack Harry in the face. For once, Harry neither flinched nor tried to flee; he stood there, calmly looking at his uncle, and froze the hand in mid-air. Vernon was initially confused – what was restraining his hand? He hadn't seen Harry take out his stick, so he couldn't have used magic. They needed those sticks to make magic work, didn't they?
Harry looked Vernon in the eye. "You'll be walking around with your hand up in the air like that for the rest of the day, Uncle Vernon. A bit awkward, I know, but you are never going to strike me again. I will not tolerate it, and I no longer have to. You cannot hurt me. Physically, I can, and will, prevent it. And I no longer care what you think. I am free of you."
Turning to Petunia and Dudley, Harry continued, "For your safety and comfort, feel free to stay at Hogwarts for as long as you want, but keep Uncle Vernon away from me. Let me know when you are ready to leave, and I'll be sure that the arrangements are made quickly to transport you back to Little Whinging."
Petunia looked very, very sad at these developments. She had known all along that Vernon would not be happy to find himself at Hogwarts, but it was a surprisingly interesting place, and she had found a few nice people here. He was just not willing to yield at all on this; he was intractable about hating magic, and it had gotten worse since he had awoken. She was just relieved that they'd gone this long before he acted up like this.
Dudley was still very confused, and he looked it, as he tried to reconcile the world he was seeing here with the world he knew back on Privet Drive, where Harry was an easy target, and his parents whacked him for any transgression Dudley thought to report to them. And now, when Harry apparently could use magic, he didn't try to get back at any of them. All he did was stop his father from hitting him. Dudley could not imagine why Harry wasn't pressing his advantage, as he was certain his parents would have done had the circumstances been reversed. This made no sense.
Petunia nodded at Harry and waved weakly as he pivoted to leave them. This was her family, after all. These were the people she loved, with whom she would be living once they left Hogwarts. Harry was not part of the equation any longer. She needed to keep her family together and happy until she could get them back to their familiar surroundings.
"Let's go back to the tent, shall we? Dudders, why don't you fill up some plates at the picnic table and bring them along. We'll eat as a family in our tent. It will be better there."
[Author's Note: This chapter represents a milestone that surprises me – the 40th chapter of my A/U continuation of The Marriage Stone! I appreciate all of you generous souls who take the time to acknowledge the effort with comments when I post a chapter. Your comments, suggestions, and criticisms have helped me improve my writing, and your encouragement means more than you know.]