Then, Harry apparated to twelve Grimmuald Place, a sleepy owl on his shoulder and a bag of owl treats under his arm, to look for Hedwig's old perch and cage.
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After deciding to spy more closely on Harry for his own protection, L had sent Wammy to begin gathering surveillance equipment and had started going over plans for investigating the Dursley's. L would either send Wammy or another associate to get close to them, but first, he needed to set everything up to watch over Harry. On Sunday morning, L and Wammy agreed that spending the day with Harry, while not as productive as other tasks, would be for the best. L told himself this was just so they could subtly interrogate Harry more, not because he was worried something might happen to Harry while he was out of view. They had headed for the house later than they had yesterday, but L wasn't worried about finding Harry if he had already left- Harry seemed to visit the same area weekly. Unfortunately, they had only just arrived on the street in time to see Harry and an unknown girl disappear between two houses.
L and Wammy had rushed to where they thought Harry had gone, but only found the walls of two houses, so snug next to each other, a centipede couldn't worm it's way between them. Wammy had suggested worriedly that perhaps Harry was in his house and whatever they had seen from down the street was how Harry got in and out without notice. L had led the way back to number nine and rang the bell. When no one answered, L pounded on the door. When still no one answered, Wammy immediately went to check around the block while L picked the lock on the door.
L had only had enough time to enter the house and establish that no one was inside (and sparsely furnished, L wondered if Harry had never intended to stay long term) when he glanced out a front window and saw- the girl! It had to be the same girl, there couldn't possibly be two girls walking about in a large black hat with a peacock feather and a sweater covered in green beetles. L had raced downstairs to the front door, waited for the girl to walk one more house down, and quickly exited number nine and headed after her. Walking beside her was a boy with red hair and tattered, baggy clothes. L couldn't see the boy's face, but his gut told him that the boy was Harry. Why would Harry be walking around in disguise with that girl? She couldn't be one of Harry's 'friends' from his past job...
L called Wammy as he followed the two and told him to meet up at King's Cross, he would call if they boarded a train before Wammy arrived. L stayed behind the girl and the redheaded Harry and was joined by Wammy, carrying a newspaper tucked under his arm, just as the subway arrived. As the girl and Harry got in line to board, Wammy and L took up positions on either side of them, further up and down on the car. When L got on, he waited for the girl and Harry to sit before choosing a seat at a diagonal from them, next to the juncture between cars. He could see Harry and the girl perfectly if he sat forward and if they turned in his direction, he only had to sit back to fall out of view behind a wall. Leaning forward now and resting his elbows on his knees, he could easily see the boy's face and it was indeed Harry. He had donned sunglasses and a red wig and ill-fitting clothes, but it was definitely him.
As the train started moving, the girl began speaking and L settled in to watch, reading her lips as they moved. L frowned, if he was interpreting her speech correctly, the girl was asking if Harry had been in disguise when he went to meet someone. Harry said he hadn't gone at all and seemed upset at the reminder. Harry had also been planning to tell the people he'd been supposed to meet that he was taking cooking lessons and wasn't depressed. L blinked. Maybe 'cooking lesson' was code for something after all, because this whole conversation seemed to be exactly what L had been afraid would happen if they didn't get to Harry fast enough. Maybe learning to cook meant that Harry was retiring? Or perhaps that he wasn't going to reveal information about the organization?
The girl told Harry that his friends had "flew-ed" him (perhaps she meant they flew in from elsewhere?) and when they couldn't find him, had thought something had happened. The meeting last week, maybe it had been to make certain that Harry wouldn't go to the police. But last week had been when they had first met Harry. Perhaps that was why Harry had been so upset at the time, and so willing to chase after a thief to relieve tension? After Harry admitted to going to a zoo instead of meeting them (L approved- a populated, public area with cameras everywhere would be much safer if someone came looking for him), the girl seemed to mock Harry for his trip and suggested that the next time Harry went he should bring his 'friends' with him. L gritted his teeth, was she telling Harry he wouldn't be safe no matter where he went?
Harry had grown even more upset than he already was and asked suddenly if the girl was mad at him for running and hiding. When the girl claimed she wasn't because Harry hadn't meant what he'd done, Harry had frightened L by shouting out that he did. No! L thought, the girl had been handing Harry an excuse and if Harry denied it he might anger her! L was worried that Harry's denial would end the conversation for the worst and seeing Harry almost slump over in defeat and hiding his face from L's view upset him more than it should have. Nothing bad would happen in a public setting like the subway, on a train packed with passengers. So long as he and Wammy kept Harry from going off alone with the girl, everything would be fine.
As L watched the conversation continue, things took a very strange turn. The girl introduced what could only be a new codeword, "snii-del." L had thought at first that he had misread that, but it was repeated several times, and by Harry as well, so L was certain that the word really was "snii-del." From the description she gave, L thought perhaps "snii-del" meant someone who gave information to Harry that the organization didn't want him to have. That might explain why he left. The girl seemed to be using the codeword as an excuse for Harry's behavior and Harry had asked if she thought he would return to the "ar-ours" when the "snii-dels" were gone. The girl told him he didn't have to and that he was doing a good job hiding from everyone to get rid of the "snii-dels" and he would be happier when they were all gone. Then she had led Harry off the train.
L had followed them, staying four people behind them up into the station, with Wammy following two people behind him. L was terribly worried. As far as he could tell, the girl had used subtle psychology on Harry, first interrogating him on missing a meeting and worrying his 'friends', then mocking him for being too cowardly to meet them and implying that they could find him anywhere he went anyway. When Harry became stressed from this, she had unbalanced him further with the codeword for whoever Harry had been talking to and then used it to soothe Harry by telling him he was doing the right thing and no one was mad at him for it. Worst of all was that L could tell Harry was buying it. The hopeful relief on Harry's face when he asked her if she thought he was better off out of the "ar-ours" twisted L's stomach into knots. They needed to get Harry away from these people and soon, he really didn't belong with them.
Once up on the street, L and Wammy had followed Harry and the girl up Charing Cross Road and quietly discussed what the train conversation had revealed. Wammy had been all for simply going up and joining them, thereby preventing the girl from taking Harry anywhere while they were in the way. L insisted they couldn't because one, Harry was disguised and they shouldn't be able to recognize him, and two, they knew nothing about the girl. If they interfered now, they might make things worse. Their best option was to follow closely and intercede only if they needed to.
About four blocks later, L was cursing that decision and wishing he'd gone along with Wammy's plan instead. They had lost Harry and the girl. They searched the street, the stores, the alleys, everywhere they could think of. But nowhere could they find Harry.
L and Wammy had returned to Harry's house on the remote chance Harry had returned. When they found the house empty, L had emotionlessly told Wammy to begin installing the surveillance cameras so they would at least know if anyone came back to it. Wammy did so, with L keeping a close watch outside, and when they had finished they went back to the hotel and began setting up the monitors they would need to connect to their various bugs.
Then, they watched and searched and waited. On Monday, Wammy was sent to investigate the Dursley's in person and on Tuesday, L set up a missing person's case for Harry with the police as a "close friend." By Thursday, the police hadn't turned up anything more than Harry appearing in the security camera of a record store, walking past the window, and then not appearing in another security camera with a view of the street only three stores down. The two stores between the videos had been questioned but no one remembered seeing a boy or girl matching the descriptions given. Which, L reflected, was part of the problem. Harry had been disguised as a redhead with green eyes, baggy clothes and sunglasses at the time of disappearance, but was actually a black haired boy with green eyes, regular glasses and better clothes. He hadn't wanted to mention the disguise though, as that would make the police suspicious and search for Harry as though he were a criminal rather than a victim, so he ended up juggling two separate missing person's cases and waited to see if they connected.
Also by Thursday, Wammy returned from what he claimed was one of the most exhausting interrogations he'd ever dealt with. He had introduced himself to the Dursley family as a police detective from London, investigating the disappearance of Harry Potter. The response he was given to this, he told L, was "So why're you looking for him here?" The family hadn't seemed worried about Harry at all and behaved more as if being questioned about it was only an inconvenience that was being unjustly forced on them. He was able to get very little information from Mr. and Mrs. Dursley and had been forced to leave rather sooner than he would have liked when they told him frankly that Harry had promised never to come back and if he ever did they would be only too happy to turn him in.
"I don't think they even listened to me," Wammy told L indignantly. "They seemed to think I was looking for Harry because he'd committed a crime! They didn't care at all that he was missing, and I'll tell you, their sitting room was simply covered with pictures of themselves and their son- but there was not one picture of Harry! If I hadn't known any better, I'd never have thought they ever had another child in that house."
But, despite the elder Dursley's complete lack of cooperation, Wammy did gain some interesting information from the younger Dursley, Dudley. The boy Dudley had run after Wammy as he walked away from Privet Drive and had asked him if he knew what had happened to Harry. Wammy, curious at the opposite reaction Dudley was showing to his parents', had asked him why he was so concerned about his cousin. Dudley had flinched and mumbled that Harry had saved his life. Wammy had pressed for details and learned that when Dudley was fifteen, he and Harry had been walking home from the park at night and been attacked. Dudley had been attacked by two assailants and ended up pinned, while Harry had been attacked by one and managed to fight the person off. Dudley had shakily told Wammy that Harry had had a chance to run for it, and if it'd been him he would've left Harry without a backward glance. But Harry, he said, had immediately turned to help him without any hesitation at all. Harry had fought off the attackers, "Hurt 'em all enough to make 'em run", and then had helped Dudley limp home.
Dudley had explained how, when they got back, his parents had blamed everything on Harry and they never spoke of it again. But Dudley had been thinking about it, a lot. He'd been happy to blame Harry back then too, because Harry had always been weaker than him and he'd always been able to beat on him whenever he wanted. The fact that Harry had proved stronger than him had been difficult to accept and was something, he said, that his dad would never accept. So now Dudley was upset, because his cousin had saved his life and he'd never really thanked him and had, in fact, tried to make him feel like he'd done something wrong instead. Which was why Dudley hoped they could find Harry and make sure he was alright and would be willing to help if he could.
Wammy had been touched by the story and impressed at Dudley's decision to change his opinion of his cousin- a difficult task indeed when Wammy could tell the boy's parents were more than willing to vilify Harry. Wammy had asked Dudley if he knew any of Harry's friends and Dudley had told him that the only ones he knew about were a family of redheads called "Weasley" (who Dudley didn't like much because they'd poisoned him) and somebody named "Cedric." But, Dudley said, they wouldn't be able to find "Cedric" probably, because he was dead. Wammy had asked him why he knew the boy's name in that case and Dudley had said that Harry had had nightmares about him dying in front of him years ago and would sometimes wake up calling his name.
Wammy was of course shocked to hear such a thing, but had made certain there wasn't anything else for Dudley to tell him before moving on. His next visit, he told L, was by far the worst. Using the same cover story he had given the Dursley family, Wammy had presented himself to Ms. Marjorie Dursley and endured a blistering lecture on all evils relating to "Harry Potter." The woman had been only too happy to talk about Harry and, believing much the same as her brother and sister-in-law about the nature of a 'police officer' asking after Harry's whereabouts, was convinced that Harry would have murdered someone by now and made off to Switzerland. She had gone on about her poor family being so good as to take in a worthless brat only for him to turn around and repay them with all this trouble. "Bad blood," she said. "Bad blood will out, and you couldn't get any worse than what he had!"
By the end of the interview, Wammy had been quite disgusted and more than eager to leave, but he had to admit he had learned quite a lot. He told L how the woman related the story of Petunia Dursley finding her nephew on the doorstep, wrapped in a blanket with a letter explaining his parents were dead and that, as family, it was now her responsibility to care for the boy. Ms. Dursley had been proud to tell Wammy that, had she been in Petunia's place, the boy would have been in an orphanage before the door had closed. She'd also explained how Harry had been sent to "St. Brutus' Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys" when he was eleven and the fact that even that place couldn't train him to be a law abiding citizen only proved her point. His parents had been trash and so he, naturally, was trash and such things couldn't be beaten out of a person.
Wammy had been livid by the end of his report to L. "Why, it's a wonder Harry has any morals at all," Quillish shouted as he paced before L. "Living with people like that all his life and still ending up the sort of person who would save a tormentor, catch a thief for no gain, and to be so polite all the time! Why, the boy must be a saint!"
"Yes," L said absentmindedly. "That title... St. Brutus' Secure Center... It sounds fake, but I will check to make certain."
"That as well!" Quillish yelled. "Imagine! Claiming to send an eleven year old boy to such a vile sounding place! And that woman, from the way she told it, Harry was caned at that place!"
L looked up from his computer. "Was he?"
"Apparently," Quillish turned and gestured. "He told her himself they were caned all the time. Though she said he said it so frankly she thought perhaps they weren't doing it hard enough!" Quillish collapsed into an armchair beside the couch.
"Don't worry Wammy, I do not believe Harry was actually caned. More likely than not this "St. Brutus'" is a ruse the family came up with to explain Harry's absences. Harry likely went along with the tale to please them."
Quillish leaned back in the chair as he looked at L tiredly. "I know, dear boy, I simply... Do not like to hear of such things, and those people- some of the things they didn't say, I fear, were worse than anything a "St. Brutus' Center" could have done to poor Harry." Quillish closed his eyes sadly. "You know, I almost wish those awful people had given Harry up to an orphanage. He might have had a better life then, and might never have gotten involved in whatever has him now."
"No," L said simply as he multi-tasked watching the monitors on number nine Argyle Square, continuing his work on Harry's two missing person's cases and beginning a search for a 'St. Brutus' Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys.' "His relatives would never have given him up and he would have still gotten involved regardless of where he lived."
"Why do you think so, my boy?" Quillish asked.
"The letter. Harry was found on his relatives' doorstep with nothing more than a blanket and a letter explaining they had to care for him, correct?"
"Oh, no." Quillish said with fearful realization.
"Yes," L said flatly. "The same ones who took Harry when he was eleven, also took him when he was a baby and sent him to the Dursley's care, possibly threatening them in some way to make sure they kept him."
"Why though?" Quillish asked desperately. "I admit that the more I learn of Harry's personality, the more I am impressed by him- I don't doubt his potential, certainly- but why would any group be so invested in the boy's life like this? From the time he was orphaned to when he was ready for whatever they needed him for?"
L sat quietly and gripped his legs tighter to his chest as he watched the monitors on Harry's house. "I don't know."
Quillish gaped at L. He had forgotten that L was upset by all this as well and was perhaps less prepared to deal with it than he was. L had always been an anti-social sort of person, never even wanting to associate with anyone, as a child or later. The only exception L had ever made to this was Quillish himself. But dealing so closely with Harry had affected L. L really was becoming attached to the boy, Quillish thought. Harry had been polite, of course, but he had also been accepting. When L was a child, his odd habits evoked all sorts of reactions in those who met him- most of them rude, some of them pitying. Quillish actually thought the main reason L had warmed up to him was because he had tried his best to allow L to behave as he liked (so long as no one was hurt, Quillish had never much cared how anyone acted) and had not judged him for it. Now, L had interacted closely with Harry and Harry had essentially accepted L's odd behavior without coming off as either condescending or as though he thought there was something wrong with L. The closest Harry had gotten to calling L on anything he did was when he had that outburst in the park, but he had been stressed already and L had been intentionally antagonizing him, and so didn't take it personally. Quillish wondered if perhaps, even after only a day, Harry was the closest thing L had ever had to a friend.
"L," Quillish asked kindly. "Would you like some cake?" L looked up and blinked at Quillish owlishly. Quillish smiled. "I believe there is a lovely shortcake I brought with me from Gloucestershire."
L's lips quirked as if to say he knew exactly what Quillish was trying to do, but he nodded anyway and Quillish got up. He would call down to the reception for tea to be sent up as well.
The next day, after another sleepless night, L began reorganizing the information gathered from the searches for Harry as well as what Wammy had learned from the Dursleys. As fascinating as that new information was, it was also terribly worrying when put into context with Harry's situation. L had already seen how easily Harry had been manipulated by the girl on the train- if Harry had been raised in an uncaring household, careful psychological handling would keep Harry pliant his whole life. Yes, L thought, if Harry had been raised to see himself as worthless and then a group approached him and treated him well, but maintained the mindset in Harry that he was not as important as other people, then Harry would be polite to everyone he met, work hard to help others, and would do anything to keep the approval of those who treated him well despite his supposed worthlessness.
L took a sip of his afternoon tea (seven sugars, no cream). It was rather disturbing, as Wammy had said, but it explained a great deal about Harry. It also, unfortunately, meant that Harry was more likely to return to the organization than run from them. Perhaps Harry had learned something he didn't approve of and tried to leave, but after meeting with that girl and being so masterfully handled, Harry would probably rethink his decision and agree to go back with her. L set his cup carefully back down on the table and hunched over his knees as he stared at the monitors on nine Argyle Square. He was beginning to get the feeling that was exactly what happened to Harry. But, if he had returned to wherever he'd been, there was little chance L and Wammy would ever see him again.
Wammy was expecting L to find Harry somehow, but now L was feeling incredibly depressed because he didn't see how he could. He was confident, of course, that he would eventually uncover the organization that took Harry, he certainly had enough clues to work off of. The Dursleys, for instance, would have to be revisited. The son at least, had seen some of Harry's associates and, despite the fact that "Weasley" was likely an assumed name as none of L's searches turned up anything useful, a group of redheads was clearly important. Why else would Harry wander around disguised as one? Or perhaps, L thought, the red hair was the disguise, for all of them. He would have to look into any suspicious occurrences involving redheads. Then there were the Dursleys themselves- they obviously knew more than they were saying, perhaps calling Harry and his parents criminals had been a hint rather than an expression of mindless hate.
L tapped his finger on the sugar bowl and got up to find Wammy, they did have enough to start with, but the main problem was whether they could find the information they needed fast enough to find Harry as well. As soon as they probed too deep, the organization would seek to cut off any leads they had found already and would place Harry as far from their reach as possible. Then there was the problem of Harry himself. L was starting to worry that even if they did manage to find Harry, the boy wouldn't even want to be saved from a group of people he trusted more than two strangers he met off the street.
As L walked into the second bedroom, he missed seeing the very person he was thinking so solemnly about, calmly enter the screen showing the front door of nine Argyle Square and pass casually across four more screens as he headed for the kitchen.
"Wammy," L called as he waited in the doorway of Wammy's bedroom, hands in pockets while he stared at the ground. Wammy looked up from the suit he was airing out for tomorrow- he had planned to go back to Little Whigning and try to speak with Dudley Dursley again.
"Yes, my boy?" Wammy said.
L paused a long while before speaking and he didn't look up once. "It is a strong possibility that we may not be able to find Harry again... I believe he is with the unknown organization."
"Well, of course he is!" Wammy said desperately, coming forward at once, to stand in front of L. L hunched in further on himself, but didn't step back. "We saw him go off with that girl."
"Yes, but- I believe he may have chosen to go with her."
"It's true we didn't see any evidence of a struggle, or any inclination from Harry that he didn't want to go with her, but I thought we agreed that was simply because Harry was being misled by her!" Quillish wanted to know why L was suddenly acting so subdued. Perhaps L had gotten more attached to Harry than he thought and didn't like that Harry had disappeared before L could solve his case. He had to convince L to stay positive, Harry was depending on them. "L, let's go sit down and you can explain to me why you feel this is now so hopeless."
"I just told you," L said sulkily as Wammy herded him back into the sitting room. "He obviously chose to go back to the people who took him. We have yet to find any information on this organization save for vague descriptions of their passing. The closest we have gotten to any of them directly, was that girl who acted in such a contrary manner to typical criminals that I have no way of either profiling or searching for her at all! Harry was with her and now we've lost him!" L bit out angrily to Wammy. "I am not saying that we will stop the investigation, merely that we may not locate them in time to do Harry any good!" Wammy wasn't understanding this because he didn't want to understand it. L turned away from him, intent on ignoring him, when his eye caught movement on the screens set up over the sitting table. L froze, wide-eyed, and Wammy almost ran into him, having expected L to keep walking.
"L?" Wammy asked, confused at the sudden change in L's posture and expression. What was he staring at so intently? Wammy turned toward the sitting table as well and gasped. There was Harry, standing in the upper corner of the screen showing the kitchen, chopping up a carrot.
L jumped onto the couch and ran the past twenty minutes of feed over his computer, fast-forwarding quickly to see at what point Harry had entered the house. He watched Harry in the kitchen view out of the corner of his eye.
"What on earth is he doing there?" Wammy asked dumbly. L didn't think Wammy was asking what Harry was cooking. L ascertained that only Harry had entered the house and that he had gone straight to the kitchen, not even checking for signs of surveillance or tampering in his home. L turned to focus fully on Harry in the kitchen, now slicing an onion. He upped the volume on the feed from the bugs, Harry appeared to be murmuring to himself.
"Okay, so that's the carrots and onions, next I need the rosemary and sage and... what else was it? Hmm, but the chicken's clean and the oven- The oven!" L and Wammy watched incredulously as Harry jumped away from the cutting board on the kitchen table to check the oven. "Okay, electric oven, er, what temperature do I set it... Uh, flames would be around 1500 degrees Celsius, but you cook chicken after the flames die down to embers, so the embers would be about, er, 200 degrees, so.." Harry started fiddling with the dials on the oven. "200 degrees and... hmm.. I have to wait for the light. Huh," L watched as Harry stared quizzically at the oven. "Maybe I should have done the chicken after the oven after all. I forgot it takes a while."
"I can't believe it," Wammy said quietly as he watched Harry go back to the cutting board to finish with the onion. "He just... walked back and... He's cooking a chicken." The last word was said rather high pitched for Wammy and L chanced looking back at him. Wammy's eyes were riveted on Harry and he seemed to be in shock.
"Should we go see him?" L asked Wammy speculatively. As he had thought, that question snapped Wammy out of the stunned state he was in.
"See him?" Wammy asked as he stared at L in confusion. Hmm, perhaps Wammy was still in shock, which meant they should take a taxi rather than drive.
"Yes," L got up and with a last look at Harry, who was now shoving onion slices and various spices into a chicken, headed for the door. "He has far more food than he can eat by himself and I saw him put a chocolate cake in the refrigerator when he arrived."
"Did you now?" Wammy started smiling slowly. "Well, we must help him eat all that, by all means. By the by, what shall our excuse for dropping in on him be?"
"That we enjoyed his company at the park and tried to invite him to join us on Sunday. We've been checking back periodically and became worried when he was never home. When we 'check up' on him tonight, we shall inquire as to his health and, of course, invite him out with us tomorrow," L said as they walked out the door. Wammy handed L his hoodie as he pulled his coat on.
"Do you think he will believe it?" Wammy asked while keeping up with L's fast pace.
"Harry is the type who will believe anything so long as he doesn't suspect the person. He does not suspect us of anything, so he will definitely believe whatever we tell him- within reason of course," L waited impatiently for the elevator to open. He was worried suddenly that Harry would vanish before they could reach him, and L wasn't sure he could stand losing track of Harry again.
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Harry looked up from worrying over the oven as he heard the doorbell start ringing repeatedly. He gazed at the oven again, not certain he should leave it (what if it exploded?), when the doorbell stopped and was instantly replaced with a disjointed pounding sound.
"Alright already!" Harry shouted as he walked quickly into the hall. He'd check who was at the door, send them off, and be back to check the roast chicken was still cooking properly in minutes. After Harry shouted, the knocking stopped and Harry thought for a moment that he could go back to the kitchen, but then it started up again, faster and louder than before. Harry sighed, it had better not be anyone he knew or he might yell at them.
When Harry opened the door however, it was someone he recognized, but not anyone he would have guessed would be at the door. William looked at him, his arm still raised to knock on the door, with Thomas standing behind him on the step below.
"Ah, Harry. There you are," William said flatly. "Your doorbell may be broken."
"It's not," Harry said blankly. "Er, what are you doing here?" Harry tried to think if he had planned something with Thomas and William tonight and just forgotten. He didn't think he had and honestly, Harry hadn't thought he would ever see either of them again. Of course, he'd thought that after the first time he met them too.
"We were worried about you, lad." This came from Thomas, who was leaning slightly around William to smile at Harry. "We tried to see you Sunday, and on random days throughout the week, but you never answered your door. Were you quite alright?"
Harry looked between Thomas' concerned smile and William's unwavering stare. "Uh, yeah... I went out for most of the day Sunday with some friends of mine. Then for most of the week I was either at cooking lessons or catching up with everyone. I didn't really come home much," Harry said hesitantly. He had been busy, trying to keep up with the exhausting cooking lessons (he'd finally moved on to poultry) and seeing his friends.
After Harry had sent a letter to Ron and Hermione with his new owl (whom he'd named 'Rowag' after flipping through his old history book and landing on "Rowag the Wanderer", a gaelic wizard who'd managed to get lost in Greece when he tried to visit his mother in the Orkneys- an unlucky name for a post owl, but Harry was still cross about getting bit), he'd found both of them waiting for him when his lessons on Monday ended. They'd had dinner at Hogwarts (Harry being proud to point out the drumsticks he'd helped season) and talked about Harry's new path in life. Ron was finally cottoning on to the fact that Harry wouldn't be returning to the auror department and was a little confused that Harry would pick cooking, of all things, over being an auror. If he really wanted a new job, why not join a quiddich team? Hermione, meanwhile, was torn between her pride in Harry getting on so well with the house-elves and her continued insistence that Harry was really depressed.
"But Harry," she kept saying. "It's not as though you don't have any reason to be upset! Your whole life has turned out differently than you planned for- anyone would be out of sorts. You can always talk to us Harry, we'll help you with anything that's bothering you!"
Harry had finally gotten Hermione to stop talking about it by threatening to go back to hiding from everyone again. He knew she meant well and was only worried for him, but really- she never knew when to let up! After Hermione stopped pestering him, Harry was able to speak to the other people eating with them.
Headmistress McGonagall had admitted to Harry that she'd known since last week that Harry was taking lessons from the elves and had been planning to corner him if he didn't come on his own to see her soon. She'd smiled and told Harry that he was always welcome at Hogwarts, but it would be nice to visit with him once in a while. Harry had grinned and promised to have tea with her the next day.
Hagrid had asked Harry if he wouldn't mind taking a look at some of "the new specimens" he had for his classes as he thought Harry would appreciate them. Harry had grimaced slightly and asked Hagrid if he'd like to have lunch together instead. Some of the other teachers had perked up at this. Flitwick and Sprout had both asked if Harry would visit with them as well, and scheduled which days to meet him.
After a full week of lessons, lunches, tea and talking with Hermione about how he wasn't depressed (he was taking charge of his life, an idea which Hermione seemed to approve of and which finally got her off the depression theory) Harry was exhausted at the end of each day and after flooing to Grimmuald Place, he had enough energy to wash up, send Rowag off with a letter and go to bed. It had never occurred to Harry that his absence from number nine Argyle Square would be noticed. He went to the muggle house, after all, to get away from people, but Harry had forgotten that he had met muggles who knew only that address for him. Now that he thought of it, it was only natural for Thomas and William to be worried- they didn't know about Grimmuald Place, so the fact that Harry was never "home" would be rather worrying.
Harry smiled at them sheepishly. "Er, sorry?"
William blinked at him. "We will accept if you invite us in."
"Huh?" Harry said, totally thrown off.
"If you invite us in, we will forgive you for worrying us," William said flatly. "You do want us to forgive you, don't you?"
Harry stared at William incredulously. Well, yeah, he was feeling guilty that they had been worried for nothing- Harry seemed to be doing that to all his friends lately- but, invite them in? Really? Harry wasn't entirely sure inviting strangers into his house was a good idea. But then, he had rather enjoyed lunch with them last week and Harry didn't feel at all threatened by them. Even if they did turn out to be a bad sort, Harry was confident he could deal with anything they tried- he'd made a point of learning how to transfigure a person into a ferret.
"Yeah, okay," Harry said, standing aside and sweeping his arm toward the hall. "Come in then."
After Thomas followed William into the hall, Harry closed the door and turned to them. Thomas had his coat draped over one arm and William was turned around and staring at Harry intently with his hoodie hanging limply from one hand and dragging on the floor.
"Oh!" Harry exclaimed. "Sorry 'bout that! Let me put your coats away." Harry hastily took Thomas' carefully folded overcoat and William's crumpled hoodie and went to hang them on the coat-rack. "You can just go," Harry thought quickly, which rooms actually had seating? "Er, to the kitchen I guess- it's just down the hall. I'll make some tea."
William turned and started walking to the back of the house calling loudly "Are you cooking Harry?" Harry stared after him and Thomas smiled as he waited patiently for Harry to finish putting the coats up and walk with him.
"He was quite worried you know," Thomas told him quietly. Harry winced. He didn't like William as much as he did Thomas, but he still felt bad. "He's not well practiced at interacting with people properly, but he quite likes you. Finding you gone all week was most distressing."
"I'm sorry," Harry said glumly. He was getting used to apologizing to people for worrying them. Even muggles now. "I was just so busy, I kind of stayed where I was to sleep. All the meals I've had this week actually were at the school."
Thomas smiled again as they entered the kitchen. "Ah, so that heavenly smell means you're practicing then?"
Harry grinned, embarrassed. "Well, yeah. I was really excited to learn to cook an actual meal. I mean, I learned to do meals that were just vegetables, but it doesn't feel the same, you know?"
"Yes, well it smells as though you are doing quite well at your cooking school," Thomas said while he sat down at the kitchen table- clear now of the traces of Harry's preparations. William was already sitting at the table and Harry could see his trainers on the floor below the chair while his toes played with themselves on the seat.
"Don't your feet get cold without socks?" Harry asked him quizzically as he put the kettle on.
William actually glared at Harry. "No."
Blinking at the unexpectedly fierce reaction, Harry turned to inspect the chicken through the oven door once more. "Okay, okay. No need to get so uptight."
Behind him, Thomas started laughing and said gaily, "Oh, I'm afraid William detests socks! Every time they get mentioned, he assumes he's going to be made to wear them and becomes most antagonistic." When Harry looked back at them, he saw William glaring at the table and mumbling to himself. "They're too tight and they slide on floors," he said. Thomas began laughing again and William got up to turn his chair around to face the wall.
"Oh, come now, my boy," Thomas said suddenly. "I don't mean anything by it and no one is going to make you wear socks."
"No one could if they tried," William said defiantly, glaring at the wall.
"Of course," Thomas smiled. "So there's really no need to make a fuss. I promise I won't laugh again."
William looked as though he was considering turning the chair back to the table then, but stopped and stared suddenly at Harry who had burst out laughing himself. Both William and Thomas watched as Harry laughed until tears formed in the corners of his eyes and he had to come to the table to sit down a moment so he could calm down. As soon as he landed in the chair, William had turned quickly back to the wall and muttered darkly over his shoulder that some people didn't have any sense when it came to footwear.
Harry waved at his back and gasped out. "Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean to upset you," He leaned on the table and turned to grin at Thomas. "I knew two people once who really loved socks. One of them loved having the freedom to wear socks and collected all kinds and the other told me," Harry paused and smiled sadly at the tabletop. "He told me, 'Happiness is a warm pair of woolen socks.'"
Thomas watched Harry carefully and even William was glancing surreptitiously over his shoulder.
"So, really," Harry said, getting up again to go look at his chicken. "The thought of someone not liking socks at all is really funny to me. I think they're really great!"
Thomas and William looked at each other while Harry bent to check the chicken. Finally, William huffed in annoyance and turned his chair around. "Very well," he said dully. "I acknowledge that you are not making fun of me- But I refuse to accept there is anything good about socks." This last was said quickly and forcefully and made Harry smile over his shoulder at him.
"Sure," Harry said pleasantly and he went back to carefully watching his chicken. When the kettle whistled, Harry quickly set out a tea service for his guests and himself, and then went straight back to see that his chicken hadn't burned. While William spooned half the sugar bowl into his cup, Thomas poured a bit of milk into his and waited patiently for Harry to return to the table.
After a few minutes of silence, Harry heard Thomas give a cough behind him and looked back.
"Harry, do you need to watch the chicken as it cooks?" Thomas asked hesitantly, as though worried he was interrupting some sacred ritual he didn't fully comprehend.
"Er, no," Harry said in embarrassment. "But you see, I've never cooked in an electric oven before, so I'm worried I might burn it." Harry looked back at the chicken in the oven as if it might have caught flame while he wasn't looking.
"Doesn't your school have ovens, if this is a dish they taught you?" William asked in a flat voice, stirring his syrupy tea slowly.
"Well, sort of," Harry said, still staring at the roasting bird. "The school only has wood burning ovens- no electric or gas."
"That is unusual!" Thomas said, surprised. "Isn't it difficult to get much done?"
"Oh no. Making a fire for a wood oven takes some time, but it's really easy. Besides, they have a lot of ovens."
"So you are learning to cook exclusively with fire?" William asked. Harry could practically feel the man staring a hole into his back. He'd forgotten, in his guilt over worrying William, about his least favorite habit the man had.
"Could you please not stare at me like that?" Harry called in annoyance without turning around.
Silence for a few moments before William blankly asked, "How am I supposed to look at you then?"
Harry glanced at him briefly, his forehead creased. "I don't know, just... Not like that!"
"How exactly am I staring at you then?"
Like I'm a flobberworm you're about to dissect, Harry thought. "Like I'm some toy for you to take apart."
Another silence before William said, "Not a toy."
This got Harry to actually turn around. "What?"
William (who was still staring at him) said in a monotone, "You are not a toy, therefore, I am not staring at you as though you're one."
Harry stared blankly at William. That prat! And Harry had actually been thinking he might be nice. "Then maybe you should just stop staring at me period," he said angrily.
"Now, now," Thomas interjected worriedly. "Let's not fight over something so simple." Thomas gave a stern look to William, who hunched his shoulders and appeared to be pouting. "William, I think it's time you stop antagonizing Harry." As William looked down, Thomas turned to Harry, who'd gotten up from the oven and was watching Thomas scold William with obvious glee. "Harry," Harry flinched. What had he done? "I think you should come sit with us rather than spending all your time crouched on the floor with your back to the room." Thomas gave Harry as stern a look as he'd given William. "We did come to see you after all."
"But, what about my chicken?" Harry protested.
"How long has it been cooking?" Thomas asked patiently.
"Er, about twenty minutes?"
"And how hot is the oven?"
"Um, I set it at 200..."
"That is a bit too high," Thomas said calmly. "I suggest you turn it down to 175 and we will check on it in 40 minutes, alright?"
Harry did as Thomas suggested and walked meekly over to the table, wondering how on earth Thomas could make him feel as though he were five years old and misbehaving in public, when he was the guest in Harry's own house. As he sat at the table and William glanced at him briefly before looking blankly at the table again, he thought maybe Thomas just had so much practice dealing with William, anyone else was easy to maneuver.
"So, um, do you cook, Thomas?" Harry asked hesitantly, hoping the awkward silence that had risen would be broken.
"Sometimes," Thomas said as he sipped his tea. "It is a pleasant way to spend an afternoon, and I find I enjoy making something people will appreciate." Thomas gestured at William who was stirring his tea again and pointedly ignoring them. "I make all sorts of snacks for William."
"Oh?" Harry asked, interested despite himself. "What kinds of snacks?"
"Oh, cakes, pastries, biscuits. Mostly sweet baked things," Thomas looked up thoughtfully. "Though I did try my hand at ice cream a time or two. I managed the vanilla quite well, but I'm afraid the strawberry didn't turn out at all. Although, William still ate it." Thomas smiled fondly across the table. William glanced up and then went back to stirring his tea.
Harry had run out of anything to say. He'd sort of been trying to get William to talk so he could apologize, but William clearly didn't want to speak with anyone anymore. Harry sighed and sipped his tea. So far, this visit from Thomas and William wasn't anywhere as enjoyable as lunch on Saturday had been, and Harry had been rather annoyed at the time what with hearing all the same sort of questions he'd been avoiding from his friends. Now he almost wished William would start pestering him again- at least then he wouldn't be sulking.
Harry glanced at William over his cup, William had stopped stirring the tea and was staring into it and clutching his knees against his chest. He really was sulking like a child... Harry thought about what Thomas had told him in the hallway- William didn't know how to interact with people. Well, duh. Harry could have guessed that, but, maybe that also meant that William didn't know how to apologize? As Hermione would tell him, he needed to be the adult in this situation.
"Er, William?" Harry said hesitantly. William ignored him and Harry could tell by his gaze and the way his legs were shifting that he must be playing with his toes. "William?" Still nothing. Harry was starting to get annoyed. It was really difficult to be an adult with such a childish person acting a prat in your kitchen. "William!" Harry snapped.
William looked up with a blank expression. "Yes, Harry? Did you want something?"
Really, it was quite hard being an adult... "I am trying to apologize to you you prat, but I can't do that if you ignore me!" Harry said indignantly.
William looked at Harry blankly before lifting his hand to his mouth and pulled at his lip with a finger. "I do not think apologies are meant to include insults Harry."
"That wasn't the apology," Harry said flatly. William stared at him and stuck his thumb in his mouth. Well, at least Harry had his attention now. "I'll apologize for being rude and snapping at you, if you apologize for being rude and staring at me, deal?"
William seemed to be chewing his thumb now and took it out momentarily. "If I refuse?"
Harry should have expected William to be as contrary as possible, but what could he possibly do to make him agree? Oh! There was one thing... "Well, if you refuse to apologize, you won't get any dessert." Harry said, trying his best not to gloat.
William's eyes widened and he froze. Ha, thought Harry. Beside him, Thomas seemed to be shaking slightly and coughed before taking a long sip of his tea, clearly intending to leave this discussion up to Harry and William. William, meanwhile, was staring at Harry with too wide eyes and Harry was starting to wonder if maybe he'd gone into shock or something. Then suddenly, William's eyes contracted and focused on Harry's face and he smiled creepily. "Very well. I accept your apology."
"I'm happy to apologize to you William," Harry said smugly. "That means I get cake. Chocolate cake in fact." Harry waited patiently for William to catch on. Honestly, what sort of idiot would fall for that?
William's eyes stayed trained on Harry's face while he kept them wide open. "I believe, Harry, that according to our deal, I also get cake."
"No," Harry said slowly. "The deal was that we each had to apologize. I did, now it's your turn. Or," Harry smiled. "Did you not want any cake?"
William blinked. "I am not hungry enough for cake," he said indifferently. "But, as it would be rude for you to let a guest go hungry at all..." Thomas snorted quietly and refilled his teacup.
Harry smirked. He played stupid games like this with Teddy when he was baby-sitting. Teddy could come up with all sorts of excuses for why he didn't need to go to bed right away, but if Harry patiently took them away, one by one, then Teddy was inevitably forced to go along with Harry's wishes- Harry was positive he could do the same with William. "Well, you're right. There is plenty of chicken after all."
Harry could see William's fingers clenching in his jeans. "I was thinking snacks that went with tea would be better- that is after all, Harry, what you have served us."
"I'm so sorry William, but I haven't been food shopping in weeks. I'm afraid I don't have any snacks," Harry said this with a great deal of relish, not even pretending to be sorry.
William was staring so fixedly at Harry, that he could see his eyes dilating and contracting rapidly. This was kind of fun. "Your only choices are the chicken and the cake," Harry said happily. "So, which do you want? I wouldn't want you to go hungry after all."
Thomas coughed suddenly and Harry glanced over at him amusedly. William continued staring at Harry. Finally, William glanced at the ground beside the table. "Fine," he said.
Harry raised his eyebrow. "Fine what?"
William looked blankly up at him. "I apologize."
Hmm, that didn't sound terribly sincere, but it was probably all Harry would get. "I accept," Harry said brightly and he got up to check on his chicken again. William called rather loudly after him, "Do I get my cake now?"
Harry, after making certain the chicken was doing all right in the electric oven, glared back at William. "No."
"Are you going back on our deal?" William asked darkly. Harry had the distinct impression that William was plotting to steal a piece of cake if that was the case. He rolled his eyes.
"Of course not," he said. "But the chicken isn't done. You aren't going to eat while Thomas and I have to wait are you?"
"If you were smart," William said sulkily. "You would skip the chicken and just eat the cake."
"I worked hard on the chicken!" Harry huffed. "It's the first real meal I've made without any help- er," Harry looked at Thomas sheepishly. "Well, except for Thomas that is... I probably would have burned it otherwise."
Thomas laughed. "Not with the way you were watching it, my boy!"
Harry blushed as he sat down and took a quick sip of his tea to cover it. "So, er, what have you two been doing for your vacation anyway?" he asked, trying to steer the conversation away from himself.
Thomas smiled at him. "Well, aside from worrying over you, nothing very much."
Harry gaped at Thomas, had he actually ruined their vacation? "I'm sorry- I really didn't mean-"
"Oh, no, lad!" Thomas said quickly. "I didn't mean to upset you with that. I simply meant that William and I were holding off doing anything truly interesting until we knew whether you could join us."
Harry blinked. "Join you?"
"Yes," Thomas nodded. "We do truly enjoy your company Harry. Our walk in the park was all the better for you presence, so we were hoping you might want to go on another outing with us."
"What would you want to do?" Harry asked confusedly. He admitted to himself that he had rather enjoyed Thomas' and, to a lesser extent, William's company, but he hadn't thought they enjoyed his very much. He wanted suddenly, very much, to go out with them again and hoped that he wouldn't disappoint them- Thomas especially.
"Well, have you ever been to the London Eye?" Thomas asked.
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A/N: Thank you as always to readers and reviewers! Special note- some reviewers are scaring me with their insight. I try to stay two chapters ahead of updates so I won't miss a week and some people are asking about things that happen in chapters I haven't posted yet! Are you reading my mind? o_O;
But anyway, was anyone expecting L and Wammy to freak so badly when Harry went out with Luna? I loled so much, they think Luna is a spy! ^^ I hope everyone enjoyed L's perspective in this chapter- losing track of Harry has made him more aware of Harry's importance to him. At this point though, I think Harry phrased it best- L considers Harry to be something to play with rather than a real friend, which is how Wammy has chosen to view things. Harry, of course, still doesn't like "William" very much, but he is learning how to get along with him without being walked all over! Good for him.
This huge misunderstanding L has made will be going on for a while, because 1) L will NEVER guess magic and 2) Harry will NEVER come out and tell a muggle the big secret. That's illegal and he did used to be an auror! Now, whether Harry will perform magic in front of the cameras L finally managed to set up in Harry's house is another question. I do hope Harry stays sensible... ^^;;
In the meantime- L and Wammy are working on developing a close relationship with Harry for... well, now.. Why would they do that? Can anyone guess?