Part 5
A/N and now, we're back at Hogwarts. Is Dumbledore a great manipulator? A doddering fool? Somewhere in between? You'll have to read to find out.
~~ scene ~~
With all new students sorted, Dumbledore declared the beginning of the feast. He smiled over the children, looking through the groupings. Ah, the Hufflepuffs, working together already to efficiently serve the meal. And of course, Severus's little snakes were practicing their potion detection charms.
He supposed that the argument at the Ravenclaw table was about some minutia in an esoteric subject. It had always been a mystery to Albus that he'd sorted into Gryffindor – he felt sure he'd have been a much better Ravenclaw.
That the hat had wanted to put him in Slytherin was a dirty secret he kept to this day.
Continuing the survey of his domain, Dumbledore studied his alma mater of the Gryffindor table, and in particular, Harry Potter. What he saw brought a smile to his face. It looked as though the child had finally hit his growth spurt or whatever children have. Dumbledore had been away for most of the summer, on the continent, doing work with the ICW and setting up the contacts to bring the Triwizard Tournament to Hogwarts in the next year. He hadn't had the time to check on Mr. Potter's situation, though, of course, Harry had once again asked to be removed from the mediocrity of his muggle home.
Usually, Arabella would keep Albus up to date with a report or two, justifying the small stipend he gave her. She always reassured him that Harry was fine. The child was simply a fussy eater with a small bone structure. Sometimes, Albus doubted it, but then he watched the Potter lad pick over Hogwarts food, and he realized Arabella was correct.
The lad was eating well tonight and seemed to have sprouted up over the holidays. Why, he must be head and shoulders on par with the Weasley boy! Not that he could compare… since the Weasley boys were still in London.
Such a strange series of events, what with young Peter being revealed not only as the treacherous secret keeper, but a death eater, and an illegal animagus pet to the Weasleys. The Weasley children all had to go for scans to be sure the death eater hadn't harmed them, with Ronald and young Percy getting the most invasive scans, since they had – far and away – the most exposure to the nefarious man.
The rest of the Gryffindors would also have to undergo testing, just to be sure that Pettigrew hadn't harmed them. All were still attending Hogwarts, so the new healer – Panakos – would be able to handle the testing.
Thinking of the Gryffindors at risk, Albus turned once again to the Potter boy. Young Harry did look almost normal, except he had somehow lost his glasses. Dumbledore supposed the cousin had somehow broken them. Again. Boys.
At least the Potter lad had worked beyond his finicky eating phase and looked healthy. It wasn't as though Albus could ask Poppy, though. She was gone now. He imagined Panakos would not be so free with the private details of the students' medical histories.
How Albus had missed that Poppy had early onset dementia – a magical version that was completely untreatable – was astounding. But he'd missed it. He wondered if he'd missed any other details that were important in his pursuit of Tom.
Dumbledore stood and introduced Remus Lupin and Apollo Panakos as the new defence teacher and healer, respectively. Elves popped notes to several students, including, but not exclusive to, all those Gryffindor boys, instructing them to report to the medical wing at the assigned times for full checkups. Some students were kept overnight, and much gossip ensued. Harry didn't participate in it, though he knew exactly what had happened.
Poppy Pomphrey had been called into the Healer's Guild because she hadn't been treating as she should or calling for help when she should. Though the children petrified by the basilisk were merely the latest, most egregious example, a study of her files showed that she'd not been doing her job properly for quite a few years. It wasn't her fault; she'd been ill herself. All of the students at Hogwarts would have to be fully checked. She'd been replaced with another healer and a process to audit records and monitor the healer were put in place.
~~ scene ~~
The following morning, just after breakfast, Albus Dumbledore chipped away at the seemingly-endless pile of parchment that had built up as he worked remotely with the ICW over the summer. Why had he agreed to take on the Supreme Mugwump position? The Chief Warlock position was bad enough – having to mediate between the toddlers who ran the wizarding world in Britain was enough to make his teeth itch. But the mugwumps in the international stage – they all had the egos of Lucius Malfoy as well as the power mongering of Barty Crouch. There weren't enough lemon drops in the world to make those meetings palatable. But someone had to do it. And Albus felt perhaps he was one of the few who would.
His parchment-avoiding thoughts were interrupted by a summons, through the floo, from Asa Steppenage. Dumbledore liked Asa, who was a stalwart wizard who stood for the rights of children. But whenever they interacted, Albus felt as though the other man didn't quite give Albus the respect he deserved. Where Albus's eye had a kindly twinkle, he felt Asa's held humor bordering on derision.
When he went through to the offices of the WCS – Steppenage's domain – he saw no humor at all in the man's eye.
"Have a seat, Albus. We have important information to give you." Steppenage looked up from his position behind the desk, over his spectacles, at the headmaster. Suddenly, Albus understood how many of his students must feel upon being summoned to his tower office. He very much felt the recalcitrant boy under Steppenage's gaze.
Alas, it must be one of the children. Albus shook his head, sighing. People could neglect children, he knew, but he was always disheartened by knowledge of actual abuse.
Asa, meanwhile, sealed the room and, after checking for listening and scrying charms, put up a further privacy ward. It would not do for this news to get out further than it had.
"I need to speak to you about Harry Potter." He handed Albus a document showing that all rights as magical guardian had been revoked, with cause, from Albus Dumbledore and would be transferred to Sirius Black before end of school term.
Albus stiffened as he scanned the document. "Sirius Black may be the intended guardian, per the will, but he cannot possibly be deemed as stable. Harry must stay where he is."
Asa let the other man spew his nonsense then handed Dumbledore a file.
He watched as the color leached out of Dumbledore's face as Albus read the first page.
There were over thirty pages in that folder.
Steppenage knew the order of the papers in the file, and he watched as Albus shook his head at the medical diagnosis, tried to close his eyes to the interrogation transcripts, got visibly angry at the suppressed complaints, became resigned to the plea outcome. And then he saw denial.
A lesser man – or a less callous man? – would have succumbed to shock by then.
"I cannot believe…"
"Stop." Asa demanded. "That child was horrifically abused in the house you deemed safe. He begged to be removed, and you didn't even bother to ask why. We have removed your guardianship. Full stop. Black is getting treatment at Mungo's. His healers say he is in fantastic shape and will certainly be able to take Harry by the time school ends."
"He cannot."
"STOP." Asa repeated. "You will have no say in this. You will leave Mr. Potter alone. You killed him once, Dumbledore, with your reckless disregard of your own falsely-claimed position. I am giving you notice. Leave Harry Potter alone. He classes you with those people – those Dursleys you sicced on him."
"I am required to approve of Harry's placement, even if I am not his guardian of record. By James and Lily's wills."
"You sat back and let the tribunal convict Sirius Black, when you knew he was not the secret keeper."
"Pardon me," Albus spoke with great affront, "but there were fourteen murder victims."
"Thirteen," Steppenage corrected coolly, "caused by Pettigrew, which we would have known if you'd stood for Black. But you chose, instead, to stand for that wretch who has ruined a generation of potioneers."
"You exaggerate." Dumbledore once again stood behind his decision to put Snape in the position of power that young man enjoyed. "Severus is simply stern."
"Snape is a terror. He should not be around children. Then again, I am beginning to believe you shouldn't be, either. Look at what your chosen guardians did to Mr. Potter. Look at what had to be corrected. Myriad improperly healed broken bones. Severe malnutrition. Burns. Failed organs. Stunted growth. Death."
Dumbledore swallowed hard, shook his head, and remained silent.
"They killed him, Albus. I have a crystal recording of his treatment from arrival to stabilization. If he'd gone to Mungo's, he'd be dead. If that elf hadn't gotten him medical aid, he would have died in that gulag you sentenced him to. As it was, it took the skills of a dual muggle and magical trained healing team and three solid weeks of intensive treatments and potions regimens to get him back on an even keel. He'll be taking potions for the remainder of this year, just to ensure his organs function and he doesn't die before age thirty." Steppenage took a deep breath to contain his ire, now that he had a living focus for it in front of him. If he were prone to accidental magic, Albus would be on fire. "You did this," he accused almost on a growl.
"The wards!" The aged headmaster protested.
"Were useless against muggle abuse, obviously." There was no way that the WCS authority would allow Albus to hide from this truth.
"I had someone watching him! Arabella Figg was placed in a house down the street!"
"Arabella Figg is also in prison. They had to be inventive with some of the charges, but the special courts will not tolerate one who fosters the creation of an obscurial. You know this. You should know how lucky you are to not be charged with the same." Asa didn't say that, if anyone thought the charges would stick, they'd have Dumbledore in the defendant's seat faster than you could say snitch.
Albus shook his head. How had he missed all of this?
"Poppy? She treated him multiple times?"
"She missed it all. If you'd had her getting checkups, you'd have known about the dementia. But you didn't want them finding the spells you'd put over her oaths, I suppose?" Albus looked down in shame. "If we find that seal you put on her ten years or so ago is what caused her dementia, you'll be charged."
"She knew about Harry… about the scar… she wanted to treat it but I could not allow her to. Tom – Voldemort's magic in the scar could've destroyed young Harry."
Asa sighed. "It's out of your hands now. The scar is gone. I repeat, leave Mr. Potter alone."
~~ scene ~~
Percy and Ron Weasley hadn't taken the train to Hogwarts. Percy was quite upset about missing the ride as Head Boy, but also knew that he had to be fully scanned.
He'd had a death eater in his bedroom for ten years.
Ron had only had the rat for two years, but their parents were taking no chances.
Ron, too, was upset about missing the train ride and the cart that he was sure he could have talked Harry into buying snacks from. When he got to the feast late – another serious disappointment for the boy – he was miffed that his mate hadn't saved him a spot. Instead, he had to sit with Percy and the twins. He'd give Harry the what-for later.
When Harry sat between Neville and Hermione at the feast – and didn't save room for his late-arriving "best mate," there were furrowed brows. But one could say that Harry didn't really ever push others around. He wouldn't say, "hey, sit somewhere else, this is for my mate, yeah?" It just wasn't his way. He was very passive. The twins, however, did save space for their brothers, wanting to know as soon as possible that Ron and Percy were okay.
The two could be complete eej's – in different manners – but they were family. And the death eater might have hurt them. So the twins celebrated BigHead Boy Percy's last opening feast at Hoggy Hogwarts celebrating their Weaslyness.
Hermione did note during the feast that Harry didn't look at the head table much, and when the headmaster made announcements, Harry looked elsewhere. And when Ron finally made it to the feast, Harry didn't even say hi. She was concerned, but didn't have time to ask.
The next morning, Hermione was waiting in the common room when Harry and Neville came down.
"Ronald not up yet?" Hermione asked, looking up from the transfiguration text she was reading.
Harry shrugged. "Dunno. Going down for brekky. You coming?"
"I'll wait for Ron," she said, somehow knowing that Harry wouldn't.
"Suit yourself. See you down there. I'll save you a seat." But not Ron. She heard it. Neville heard it, and met Hermione's eyes with raised brows.
Harry never held a grudge against anyone. This was an ominous start to a new year.
Everyone was still talking about Pomphrey and new defense against the dark arts victim at the breakfast tables. Chatter was loud, and Harry had sat with Neville, next to the twins. Hermione eventually came and sat next to Lee, across from Harry, and Ron sat next to her.
"This one looks like he's one moon from the Morrigan." Lee Jordan shook his head at the worn and weary-looking DADA professor.
"Well, we have him first thing…", "so I guess we'll find out!" Fred /George were enthusiastic about running the new professor through the gamut.
Ron studied his schedule, then looked at Hermione's, who was sitting next to him. Harry was across from Hermione, sitting next to Neville again.
"Blimey, how can you have so many classes at once?" Ron asked, looking at the crazy notes on Hermione's parchment. "How could McGonagall schedule you for divination and arithmancy and muggle studies all first thing today?"
"Don't be silly, there's no way I'm in three subjects at once," Hermione stated with a nervous laugh and pulled her schedule away from Ron. He shrugged and turned back to his breakfast.
When they all left the table, he and Hermione turned toward what they were told was the hall where Divination would be found. Neville was with them, but Harry wasn't. Ron wanted to go find him, but Harry had been acting weird (wouldn't even let Ron try his new poncy soap and shampoo). Ron didn't want to get the new professor on his tits first class (he'd done that with old McGonagall. Not a pleasant memory.), so he made his way to the tower with his bushy-haired friend.
By the time class was over, Ron was rather miffed. Where was his best friend? They met back up in Transfiguration.
"Where were you? Divination is easy, but you can't just go cutting the class, mate." Ron demanded as he tried to find a seat next to Harry. There were none; Harry had purposefully sat between Hermione and Neville.
"I'm not taking divination," Harry answered as he got his things out for transfiguration. "I'm taking arithmancy and runes."
"Wot? We were taking divination!"
Harry just shook his head and got his quill ready to take notes. Ron wouldn't just drop it, though.
"Why would you take hard classes on purpose? You a nutter? That's just mental, mate. Bet it's not too late to drop…"
"Some students are worried about more than an easy pass, Mr. Weasley. Leave off Mr. Potter, find a seat, and get your summer homework out, please."
Ron sat in a chair two rows behind Harry, with some Puff who didn't matter. His face reddened as he pulled out his very short parchment. He had written extra-large so that he would meet the minimum requirement for length… barely. He noticed that Harry's homework looked more like Hermione's: neat, to the desired length, and marked with references.
After classes that day, Ron tried to corner Harry, but Harry was out. He was actually flying with Wood, wanting to see how his gain in height and weight affected his flying. Wood was incredibly relieved to see that Harry's flying was, although slightly different, still excellent. When they got back to the common room, Wood pulled the chasers and beaters aside to discuss tactics and how they could use Potter's changes in alternate plays.
Ron would have loved to be a part of the conversation, but he didn't have a place at the table, and Harry didn't even look at him in invitation.
Thursday and Friday passed in much the same way. Harry sat with Hermione or Neville, and he didn't speak much with Ron at meals. He went to the library or he went flying after classes, his bed was as far from Ron's as the dorm room allowed (thanks to Dobby), and he was up before anyone else in the dorm in the morning. He was giving Ron the cold shoulder, and everyone in their grade group was beginning to see it.
On Saturday, Harry was sitting at a desk in the common room, finishing up the arithmancy assignment and a letter to Master Fezziwig. After blotting and sealing the letter, Harry put the special utensils back into his writing chest, admiring the carving work with a smile. He decided he would always do his personal correspondence using the writing chest, though he had his fountain pen for assignments. It didn't feel as special as the quills and pen from the chest. Harry had Dobby pop the chest back into his trunk. He put the letter into an outside pocket of his bag (thinking to visit the owlery later), his pen and sand in his quill case, and his arithmancy assignment in his folio. After putting everything away, he pulled out a book.
He was reading about – and commiserating with – Edmond Dantès's betrayal by his best friend while waiting for Hermione to come back from seeing Healer Panakos. The healer had put Hermione on a potion regimen to fix issues Pomphrey had missed or treated incorrectly. Neville was writing in a journal in the corner, enjoying the quiet, when he heard tromping coming down the steps from the boys' dorm.
Ron bounded into the room, excited. "Harry, mate, let me into your trunk. I need to get the broom. It's a beautiful day for a fly, so if you're not using it I can, right?"
Lee and the twins (who were planning a prank) – looked up to watch the interaction. They had noticed Harry had sent Ron to Coventry. They didn't know why. But they might get answers now. Keeping to their darkened corner, all three of them listened.
Closing his book, Harry answered with a cold voice. "Sorry," his tone belied the sentiment, but his eyes and hands busied him with the task of putting his book back in his bag, "that broom is for me for quidditch. Borrow one of your brothers' brooms."
"Come on, mate, you can't still be mad about the sandwiches," Ron argued.
Harry froze. Ron knew enough to figure out that Harry was mad about the sandwiches.
He looked up at Ron, and the fury in his eyes almost made Ron step back. "I couldn't be mad that you stole my food?"
"Technically, it wasn't yours," Ron defended. "You had Hogwarts food. That belongs to us all." Ron teased, self-assuredly.
"Technically," Harry answered, his voice cold, "I ate less than half of what a normal student eats for the last two years – less than a quarter of what you ate, I imagine. Hogwarts could spare me some sandwiches. Besides, I saved the school twice." No one had heard Harry's voice be that resentful, that heated, unless he was talking about Snape or Malfoy. It didn't bode well for Harry's tolerance of the youngest Weasley boy. "That food was mine. It was in my trunk. You let yourself into my stuff, rummaged around through it, and helped yourself. That makes you a thief." Hermione came into the room then, looking warily between Harry and Ron. The others all watched quietly.
"But worse," he said, overriding Ron's spluttering denials, "Worse… Why don't you tell us all again how I ended up at your house last summer?"
"You mean when me and the twins saved you? Right? We saved you, and you call me a thief?!"
"Exactly what did you save me from, Weasley?"
"Had you locked in, didn't they? Bars on the windows! Locks on the door! Your stuff kept away from you. That's right! We saved you… from…" Harry could see that the last piece was falling into place for Ron.
"What else?" Harry's voice was harsh and demanding. "Finish it! What else were they doing to me?"
"Starving you," the red head whispered, finally beginning to understand Harry's rage.
"That's right. I was stockpiling food to try to stop them starving me this year. You gluttoned your way through more than a month of rations for me." But Ron was looking at his friend and saw that Harry was healthier than he'd ever been.
"Well, it's not like they starved you this summer. That's pretty obvious."
"Wrong. They starved me." Hermione gasped at Harry's vicious whisper and she sat down, shaking, next to Neville. The twins and Lee were hanging on every word, now. "They didn't even give me the daily tin of soup they gave me last year. They gave me nothing. They pulled me out of the room once a day to use the loo. If I made noise, they beat me with Dudley's Smeltings stick. I was able to eke out almost four weeks on the rations I had. Then I had only the water from the everfilling bottle Gordon sold me last year."
"How did you survive?" Hermione asked, completely aghast at these revelations.
"I didn't." Harry firmed his jaw to hold in the desperate resignation plaguing him from the feeling of dying. He still felt it when he was falling asleep. That feeling haunted him if he didn't guard himself. "I left Hedwig with Hagrid this summer. They almost killed her last year. A week or so after my last meal, my internal organs started to shut down. She felt me dying. She pecked at Dobby until he realized he needed to save me. Again. This time, he really did. He popped me to a healer. They brought me back. It took almost three weeks of magical healing, but I'm mostly where I should be now."
"And you wouldn't be if you'd had the sandwiches!" Ron exclaimed, trying to make it better, to make it so he hadn't almost killed his friend. Harry turned to him with a look of utter disgust.
"You think because I'm healthy, now, I'll forget what it felt like to die? I'll forget that you robbed me and almost got me killed? Piss. Off." He picked up his bag and headed to the owlery to see Hedwig. He had to send the letter, but he also just wanted to spend some time with his owl, who, at the moment, he was certain was the only being who really understood him.
Hermione looked sad while Neville glared at Ron. The two followed Harry, understanding suddenly why he was so very different this term. Ron watched them go, the conversation echoing in his mind. His own temper finally falling away to the horror of understanding: He had messed up. Big time.
The dorm was quiet that weekend, with tension. None of the people outside those who had heard the revelations knew what had been said; that something had happened between the male members of the golden trio, however, was absolutely obvious. That Ronald started the weekend in silence and ended it the same, not looking anyone in the eye, was a sign that he had been in the wrong in this argument.
Ron agreed.
Monday, at the end of charms, Ron came up to Harry, who had sat in the front. They hadn't spoken since the confrontation on Saturday. Most of the other students were gone, but Harry had been waiting for Hermione to pack her things. Neville hung behind, waiting to make sure that Ron didn't hurt Harry again.
"Harry?"
Harry inhaled deeply through his nose glaring at his former best mate.
"Harry? I'm sorry."
Ron obviously was. He didn't ask for privacy; he didn't turn red with embarrassment. Instead, he was pale with guilt. He'd obviously had a good think about what had happened, and he realized he was totally in the wrong. Harry could feel himself bending.
"I'm sorry I took your food," Ron continued. "I'm sorry I got in your stuff. I'm sorry those muggles were so terrible. I'm sorry I didn't help more…" There were tears in his eyes and his voice cracked and Harry lost the tension in his shoulders and sat back down in his seat, shaking his head.
"You're just a kid. Like me." Ron shook his head as his shoulders shook and he looked at the floor. Harry let go of his anger. "You did more to help me than anybody else, Ron. Honest. You got your brothers to save me last summer. Hedwig would be dead – probably me too – if you hadn't."
Ron fell into the chair next to Harry
"I never thought…." His voice was still wobbly with tears, and he swallowed over the lump in his throat. "I never would have taken what you needed! Merlin, sometimes I'm stupid, I know. My stomach rules my head. But I never…"
"I know!" Harry reassured. He did know that, deep down, Ron was a good person. They had been best mates for two years. He knew Ron was a good guy, underneath some of his actions. "I know you wouldn't. But why were you going through my stuff in the first place?"
"We were mates! You never said I couldn't… I wouldn't care if you went through mine!"
"Your trunk has a lock. Mine didn't. But you didn't ask. You know, I didn't even have a room of my own, clothes of my own, before Hogwarts."
Ron's head hung again.
"I didn't think about it. I swear. I wasn't stealing your money or anything. I just thought… food! And, well…"
Harry sighed. Ron was so sheltered. He really hadn't meant to get Harry killed.
"I accept your apology. It's not okay – you can't be going through people's stuff, that isn't right. But I don't think you'll do that again, anyway."
"No… but where did you get that bag? I'd like to get one. I get so hungry!"
Harry chuckled a little, and what tension was left in the room disappeared. "If you had one, you'd eat whatever you put in it straight off."
Ron sighed. "You're right. I totally would."
"Cricket! We're going to be late for history!" Hermione gasped. The four friends went off together, and they all felt a lot better as they did so.
~~end scene ~~
Super Long A/N
First: This was a shorter chapter, but, I think, very pithy. A thank you to my commenters. I do read all the comments, and honestly, it's very flattering to have anyone moved enough by my scribbles to feel compelled to drop me a note. So: Thank you. Seriously.
I get a lot of flak (well, the flak I do get – and I predict some more of the same from this story) because I'm never extraordinarily mean to Dumbledore. I show that he does bad things, but he never gets truly punished. Well, I think I punished him pretty well in Sound of Silence and Growing Understanding, but usually, it's not much of a punishment. Here's why: reality and the HP universe.
Reality: people in power often do things that hurt individuals, but they almost never pay any price for it. It's the nature of being in the ruling class. HP Universe: no one in power is ever punished for the shizz they do. Ever.
I don't think it's far-fetched to postulate that a man who is adored almost universally would walk away from placing Harry Potter in the situations he was placed in. Dumbledore could probably argue (as he does in most of my stories) that he was doing the best he could with the information he had. He gets, at most, a wrist slap. But he always gets a come to Merlin (ha), and he always realizes that he screwed the pooch, and he always, in my stories, realizes that he's lost the respect of many (if not most) people. To a person like him, that's about as punishing as you can get. His rep is his comfort, and when you ruin his rep, he realizes all his work, all his glorious life, will be either forgotten or denigrated. That's a pisser for someone like him. His false sense of modesty is exposed, and he has to live with the fact that he is reviled by people he wished to worship him. That's not to say I'm done with Dumbledore. But he's not going to prison.
In the same vein, I get a lot of flak from 'redeeming' the Weasleys. Please, before you rip my head off, remember that Ron is 12 in this. He was 12 when he stole Harry's food. He's not evil. He made a mistake. And he genuinely, without reserve, apologized. He is not a bad guy in this story. None of the Weasleys are.