Harry coughed as soot flew into the air.
"There you are, mate," he heard Fred's voice say. A hand grabbed him and pulled him upright. "We weren't sure if we should go back and help you deal with your brother."
Wiping his glasses, Harry was welcomed by the sight of Fred and George patting the soot off of him.
Satisfied that Harry was alright, George gave him a weak smile. "We, uh, wouldn't have given Jazz the Ton-Tongue Toffee if we didn't know for certain it was harmless."
A pale, exhausted face resurfaced in his mind, but by the looks on the twin's faces, Harry could tell that they were waiting for his approval. He quickly swallowed his churning emotions and mustered up a fake smile. "Of course," he responded. "Shame it went south so quickly. Your prank was quite the, er, mouthful."
Both twins' grins widened before bursting with laughter.
The fireplace rekindled with emerald flames as Mr. Weasley entered the room.
"That wasn't funny, Fred. What on earth were you thinking ?" he shouted.
"I only offered the candy. She was the one who didn't ask if it was enchanted," Fred shrugged before excitedly asking, "How big did her tongue get before you got rid of it?"
Mr. Weasley ignored his question as his face turned red with anger. "That sort of behavior seriously undermines wizard-muggle relations! I spend half my life campaigning against the mistreatment of muggles, and my own sons –"
"We didn't do it to her because she's a muggle," Fred began.
"Well…" George interjected. He winced as his father's fiery glare turned to him. "We were only trying to see if the Ton-Tongue Toffee would have the same results with muggles."
"And it did!" Fred exclaimed. "Besides, Harry's family is infamous for their pranks."
"When I tell your mother-" Mr. Weasley began.
"Tell me what?" Mrs. Wealsey's voice rang out. The owner of the voice walked in.
Mr. Weasley's shoulders deflated. It was clear by his expression he had not meant to actually tell his wife what had transpired at Fentonworks. The room was silent, save for menacingly clicking knitting needles stitching her most recent project floating behind her.
Seeing Mrs. Wealsey narrow her eyes with suspicion, Harry knew it was time to make himself scarce. Giving a quick excuse he left to find Ron.
On his way out, Mr. Weasley craned his neck and called, "Harry I'd like to have a word with you later."
"Alright, Mr. Weasley," Harry responded, though he had no intention of getting caught alone with the man. He had an idea what Mr. Weasley wanted to discuss, and was not keen on having it confirmed.
He climbed the stairs two at a time, narrowly avoiding a conversation with Percy. By the time he reached the top, Harry was out of breath.
"Hiya Harry! What kept you?" Ron's cheerful voice asked just as the voices downstairs grew louder. He was lounging on his bed rifling through a Chudley Cannons magazine. Next to him, Hermione was picking Ron's dirty laundry off of a chair with disgust. In mid-grimace, she looked at Harry.
"Hi Harry. Did you have a good summer?"
Harry returned the smile. "Better now that I'm here," he replied.
"It can't have been that bad," Ron commented, rolling his eyes.
"I never want to go home again," Harry muttered, sitting on Ron's feet. With a squawk, Ron wiggled his way free.
Hermione finished discarding Ron's clothes and took a seat. "That doesn't sound good. What happened?" she asked with concern.
"Do we have all day?" Harry snarked back sarcastically.
"It's not like we have anything better to do until we leave," Ron answered, "and by the sound of Mum downstairs, it'll be a while." They all winced as they heard Mrs. Weasley's shouting below.
"- OUT OF ALL THE HAIR BRAINED IDEAS!-"
Harry looked at his friends appreciatively, grateful for their support. He felt a weight lift from his shoulders and knew he had made the right decision in leaving America, despite Jazz's insistence that he stay.
"-YOUR FATHER HAS IT BAD ENOUGH DEALING WITH GROWN ADULTS ACTING LIKE DELINQUENT CHILDREN-"
"I don't know where to start," he admitted.
"Why not your shiner? Who gave you that?" Ron asked, pointing at his cheek.
"-HARRY'S FAMILY NO LESS!-"
Harry released a heavy sigh. "Danny." At their confused looks, he elaborated. "I told him Fred and George meant no harm in growing Jazz's tongue. He didn't seem to agree."
"-WE DIDN'T RAISE YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE ANTI-MUGGLE CRIMINALS-"
Ron sat up eagerly. "Don't tell me they gave her a Ton-Tongue Toffee?!"
"I think that's what George called it," Harry affirmed. Ron cackled at the thought.
"-HARASSING UNSUSPECTING MUGGLES LIKE ITS A JOKE-"
"It's not funny, Ron!" Hermione stated. "Using magic on a muggle is illegal and could get them into serious trouble. Not to mention, Harry's family already has a negative outlook on magic. Just look at his face!"
"-THESE KIND OF ACTIONS ARE EXACTLY WHY MUGGLE RELATIONS ARE GETTING WORSE!-"
"They really do hate magic," Harry agreed sullenly. "Even before Fred and George came, it had been building up. This was just the tipping point." He rubbed his aching cheek which was still throbbing with a vengeance. He wondered whether Danny was a lot stronger than he used to be, or if he was losing his pain tolerance. "And after today, I don't think they'll ever come around."
"You didn't leave on good terms," Hermione agreed, "but give it some time. Once things settle, I'm sure they'll miss you more than they hate magic," she said, trying to lighten the mood.
"Yeah…" Harry trailed off, not quite convinced. His hesitancy caused a frown to form on Hermione's face.
"Unless there's more," she pressed.
Harry shrugged. "It doesn't matter anyway. They'll never accept magic…" Through the screaming below, they heard Mr. Weasley calling the group. Happy for the excuse to change the topic, he added, "Looks like things have settled here, anyway."
"You call that settled?! Mum is still going at it! Why should we get caught in the crossfire?" Ron sputtered.
"You want to go to the World Cup or not? You're gonna have to brave your mother at some point, Ron," Harry stated. "The portkey won't wait forever."
"We are travelling by portkey?" Hermione asked with interest. She had never used a portkey before.
"That's what Mr. Weasley said," Harry replied.
Ron grumbled under his breath and looked in morbid resignation at the pair. "And since Mum is already in a foul mood, we should probably get going," he muttered as if it was the last thing he wanted to do. He grabbed his stuff and trudged out the door.
As they made their way downstairs the voices grew louder. Bracing themselves, they went into the kitchen, where, despite the yelling, Harry was introduced to Bill and Charlie.
" I HAVE A RIGHT MIND TO KEEP YOU FROM GOING! " Mrs. Weasley shouted at the twins.
"No!" George pleaded.
"We didn't mean anything by it!" Fred tried to argue.
"THIS KIND OF MINDSET IS EXACTLY WHY YOUR FATHER DOESN'T HAVE ANY SUPPORT IN THE MINISTRY!"
"It's not like we're encouraging other people to do it," Fred exclaimed.
"Actions speak louder than words, brother," Bill said sagely into his mug.
"You're not helping!" George cried.
Bill shrugged. "I deal with enough prejudiced goblins to know what the makings of one looks like." Harry gave him a confused look. "They think that every race is below theirs," he explained.
"You may not have meant it," Mr. Weasley began. "But, muggle baiting- which is what you did-," he added sternly "has some serious anti-muggle sentiments. Sentiments that a certain dark lord thrived on."
A chill went through the air as the weight of his words sank in. George looked down with guilt while Fred shifted uneasily. They had honestly meant for the ton-tongue toffee to give them more information, produce some laughs and maybe challenge the Fentons in light-hearted retaliation. They didn't think that it would be considered assault.
An uneasy feeling grew in Harry. This conversation was starting to sound oddly like the one he had with Danny and Jazz a couple of weeks ago.
"The portkey will be leaving soon," he said, trying to push his thoughts of home aside.
Mr. Weasley was stirred out of his thoughts and looked around the room. His eyes landed on the twins. "Then we should go," he said finally.
The twins looked up, surprised.
"But don't think you'll be getting out of de-gnoming the yard when you get back!" Mrs. Weasley cut in.
"Thanks, Dad!" George exclaimed.
"And we won't prank any more muggles, I swear!" Fred added.
"Good," Mr. Weasley nodded. "Then let's go."
Together the group made their way to a grassy knoll where they used an old shoe as a portkey.
As they landed, a few fell from the impact, including Hermione. "When you described it Harry, you forgot to mention the dizzying aftereffects," she said, grabbing her head.
"Can't say this is my favorite way of travel either," Harry agreed. "But you get used to it."
Before making their way to the campsite they'd be staying for the duration of the ceremonies, the group checked in with the site manager. He was a scrawny middle-aged muggle with wild sideburns and an inquisitive eye. The former wasn't an issue besides giving the man an unkempt look, but the latter posed a great issue when it came to their transaction with the man. He was puzzled by the group's lack of common muggle knowledge to the point of questioning it out loud. The gears in his head were turning, but before he could come to a conclusion, one of the wizarding staff popped into view.
" Obliviate ," the man hissed. The once penetrating stare became glazed. "I swear I use that charm ten times a day with this one," the wizard muttered before turning back to the muggle. "Oi, give him the map and let him be on his way."
"R-Right. My apologies," the muggle stammered with confusion, handing Mr. Weasley the needed papers.
The ordeal was unsettling, especially after the conversation they had just had at the Burrow. When Harry had seen Professor Lockhart obliviate himself, it hadn't had much of an effect on him at the time. The man had done it to himself with ill intentions and Harry had had other things on his mind, mainly rescuing his friend from dying at the hands of a diary. Seeing it done to someone with a mild, though inquisitive, disposition, however, caused him to pause.
' It's not my fault we're treated like second class citizens by the magic folk. '
Harry cleared his muddled thoughts with a frustrated shake of his head. Danny was just using any excuse to get on his case. He didn't know why his mind was bringing this up now. Harry looked back at the booth. Still, it didn't settle his unease.
It had been less than a day, but Harry already felt more at home here than at Fentonworks. The magic in the air was comforting, and the welcoming feeling was freeing.
After settling into their tent, the three friends had volunteered to grab water for the group and were waiting in a line longer than any water line had the right to be. Harry wondered why they couldn't just conjure water at their tent, but Mr. Weasley said it was 'for appearances'.
Waiting in the water line was not as dull as one would expect. Since all the people in line were of wizarding descent, and were giving off their best muggle impression, it was full of entertainment. Hermione giggled at a man's honest confession of preferring night gowns over pants. The quidditch world cup worker that he was trying to convince was not amused and demanded he change.
"Try to be more discreet," the staff worker explained. "Muggles don't wear loose fitting things like gowns. It's too much like wizarding robes. Look at that guy." He pointed to a wizard wearing a skin-tight wrestling singlet. "That's a fine muggle gentleman right there." The man in question gave a smug smirk and grabbed his shoulder straps proudly. "They like to show off their form. It's good for circulation and mating." Hermione burst out laughing at the audacity.
Harry smirked, too, though couldn't bring himself to find it as funny as Hermione did. Instead he tried to push down the voices of Danny and Jazz that tried to whisper in his ear. It didn't help that the wizards were talking about muggles like his parents talked about ghost specimens.
"As if a muggle would ever fancy you," a man called out from the line. Laughter rose from the crowd.
"A muggle would be happy to have him!" a woman shouted next to the 'gentleman'. She then scoffed. "Not that they would ever realize what a catch he is with how slow they are."
'Maybe muggle is just a term to describe the mundane, and magic the extraordinary.' The smile slid off Harry's face as Hermione's laughter petered out.
"Bah, they could keep him. If he can blend in so well, then he's probably a muggleborn anyway," a man from behind them muttered.
Harry sent the man a nasty look, but Hermione stopped him from taking it any further with a tug on his shoulder. "Don't bother, Harry. It's not worth it," she said.
The noise died down as the line moved forward.
Harry furrowed his brow in frustration as his conversations back home continued to resurface. Despite his efforts to ignore his thoughts, his growing unease won and he asked, "Do you think Mr. Weasley had a point that muggles are treated unfairly by wizards?"
"What you going on about?" Ron sputtered. "Muggles don't know half the things that go on around them. How could they be mistreated?"
"I've never really given it much thought before today," Hermione admitted with a furrowed brow. "What brought this on?"
"Just, something that was said at home…" Harry trailed off before shaking his head. "Forget it. They said a lot of things to rile me up."
Hermione looked around as different groups started striking up their own conversations. "We never really finished our conversation at the Burrow…" she trailed off, wordlessly urging Harry to continue.
It didn't take long for him to relent. "They've just been distant and cold to me all summer." He glared at the ground. "No, even before then. Ever since I came home for Christmas a year and a half ago, Danny's been avoiding me and now he's demanding that I become some muggle rights activist."
"Harry…" Hermione began disheartedly.
"No Hermione. I know you mean well, but I can't stand it. And you know what? I think perhaps they're right and it is because they're muggles. They just can't understand. I have gone through so much since I left that house when I turned eleven. With the dementors, the Chamber of Secrets, heck, even Quirrell! How could they get any of that?"
"Harry, just because they're muggles doesn't mean they can't understand what you're going through. I tell my parents things even though I know they won't understand completely. What they do understand are the feelings behind the things, whether it's happiness or fear. Those raw emotions are something everyone can relate to. Expecting them not to understand is probably making the gap worse."
Harry was ready to retort, but stopped as his memories refused to remain silent.
"What are pixies? They sound nasty."
"You wouldn't understand," Harry replied, tired of trying to explain magical quirkiness only to receive blank stares.
Danny's expression darkened. "Is it really such a terrible thing to live life as a muggle?" he asked coolly.
"You don't understand what I'd be giving up," Harry stated, shaking his head.
"Would you rather I say 'you wouldn't understand'?" Danny asked. "It's what you do whenever I ask about Hogwarts."
Harry shoved the thoughts aside. "It's too late anyway, Hermione. Besides, your parents love you and want the best for you. The Fentons could care less what happens to me. They're too busy with their stupid ghost portal and all the ghosts that come out of it to care."
Hermione opened her mouth to argue but was cut off.
"Excuse me," a voice interjected. The trio turned to find an oddly dressed couple behind them. The man was wearing a tie around his head, a billowy blouse with a kilt and clown shoes while the woman had a poncho with sweatpants and stilettos. "Did you say ghost portal?" the woman asked.
Harry's face soured. "Yeah," he answered, not caring that he was oversharing. He was finally getting his thoughts out and the sudden attention felt good. "A muggle couple in America built a portal into the realm of ghosts. Can you believe it?" he scoffed with disdain. "Though their stupidity and absentmindedness has caused a lot of havoc for the town they live in. They actually leave the portal open and ghosts fly through and terrorize the muggle citizens. Amity Park is practically overrun with them at this point." He turned back to Hermione. "If Dumbledore tells me I have to go back, I'll fight him on it."
"A muggle town with ghost attacks?" a woman in front of them asked, gaining the group's attention. She was wearing a parka with shorts. "I wonder what the MACUSA is doing to remedy this."
"Nothing," Harry spat. "It's like the town doesn't exist to them. Unless I do something wrong, of course," he muttered the last part thinking of Vlad and Dobby.
"Hmm…" the parka woman's expression turned pensive. "That can't be good." She did not like what she was hearing. A Statute of Secrecy breach in America? One that hadn't been remedied yet? Once things settled with the Quidditch World Cup and the Triwizard Tournament, she would contact the MACUSA and follow up on this so-called 'ghost portal'. Who knows, her involvement as a Department of International Magical Cooperation employee could help improve relations with MACUSA, which were subpar at best.
"I wonder if the ghost portal is anything like the veil," the kilted man behind the trio mused to his female compatriot.
"Shh! You know we can't talk about work outside of the Department of Mysteries," the woman hissed. She looked back at the kids in thought. "Though it does raise some questions."
"And tangible ghosts? The last time we saw one of those-"
"Shh! You are a worse unspeakable than Rookwood," she griped.
"All I'm saying is that a visit to America could help our research." Seeing her flat stare, he persisted. "Evelyn, you know we can't leave muggles with something that dangerous. They shouldn't even know about it."
"Fine!" she shouted, startling the people around them. She gave them all a placating smile as the disgruntled groups went back to their conversations. In a lower voice she continued, "After the Cup we'll check out this Amity Park. I'll admit, it'd be nice to learn more about tangible ghosts."
"And the veil," the man added.
"And the veil," she concurred.
Mr. Weasley woke the group just before dawn. With only a couple hours of sleep, Harry was exhausted. As the group broke down the campsite, memories of the night kept playing in his mind like a film on repeat. The screams, the hooded masked figures, the floating muggles, the Mark, Winky's sobs, Barty Crouch's livid face, the screams…
It was tiring. Once they finished packing, they quickly made their way to Basil, who was in charge of the portkeys. Along the way, they passed Mr. Roberts, the muggle campsite manager, who was standing outside his booth. "Merry Christmas," he waved in a daze. Harry couldn't bear looking at the man after what he had seen last night. He looked down to try to block out his face.
'You're just turning a blind eye to what you don't want to see.'
Harry shook his head with frustration. He left home to get away from his family. Why did their voices continue to haunt him even though they were miles away? Why did he have an unsettling feeling that they might have been right? Harry didn't want to think and just wanted to go home… as in… the Burrow.
"He'll be alright," Mr. Weasley tried to reassure him. "Though, it wasn't exactly a small memory to modify. He'll be disoriented for a while, but eventually the spell will settle."
'Taking away a person's memory is very damaging to their mental health.'
"Can something like what happened last night be erased?" George asked, looking at the man with pity.
"Not completely," Hermione answered. "They won't be able to remember the memory without cruel intervention, like torture, but the body and subconscious will not forget." Her brow was furrowed as she answered. It was clear she was thinking hard about something, if her solemn demeanor was anything to go by.
"He'll probably go through his life feeling as though something is missing. A sad reality, but better than the alternative," Charlie stated.
Is it? Jazz's voice countered.
Harry groaned in his hand. He must be going mental.
A hand waved in front of his face in an effort to grab his attention. It was as effective as Vlad trying to evict the Diary King from his cheese cupboard, which was to say, not at all. Danny released a heavy sigh and sunk further on his arm. Thinking of the pompous jerk turning red at his fruitless endeavors used to give Danny a good laugh. Now it seemed that nothing could get a rise out of him.
He looked back at Lancer who was telling the class what seemed to be important information, though none of it reached his ears. He doubted anyone was listening. No one wanted to be here in the sweltering heat of summer listening to a bald old man go off about how Shakespeare really was relevant in today's day and age.
His gaze shifted to the almost dreamlike display of emerald green pastures and blue skies visible through the gaping hole in the wall. It had been a couple days after Harry left that the Department of Education decided that a semi-crumpled building was functional enough to serve as a school. Nevermind the complaints of falling debris and lack of central air conditioning during high heat advisories. U.S. education at its finest.
He could feel the concerned gazes of his friends, but couldn't bring himself to care. He wasn't ready to admit he hadn't been a good friend lately. Tucker was running for school president, and, while Sam was making a perhaps too pushy an effort to help, Danny was as listless as ever. He knew Tucker was confused and wanted his support, but Danny let his words fade into the background.
Danny rubbed his temples as a persistent headache made sure it wasn't forgotten. It had been going strong since his jerk of a brother cousin left. Animosity growled as the sting of the recent events made itself known. Two years in a row now Harry had chosen magic over his family. Danny couldn't help but feel like a discarded toy. Loved when it was needed, but abandoned when it no longer had a use. A bitter resentment grew in Danny at the thought of sorcery and magic folk alike. They could keep all their secrets and discrimination. He wanted no part of it anymore.
Harry's departure had had the complete opposite effect on Jazz. Fred and George's prank refueled her drive and, instead of backing out of her research, she took off full throttle. Johnny would be impressed by how fast she switched gears. She was putting good use to Hedwig as she sent her back and forth across the pond. To whom she was writing to, Danny could care less. He was done with the wizarding world.
"Mr. Fenton, would you care to explain what I just said?" Mr. Lancer called out.
Danny flinched and turned to his teacher. "Uh, no?"
"We are meeting in the gym for our field trip tomorrow," Sam hissed under her breath.
Before Lancer could berate him for not listening, Danny quickly regurgitated what Sam said. Lancer narrowed his eyes before saying, "You are lucky to have dependable friends, Mr. Fenton. I just hope that you are not taking advantage of their loyalty." Danny shot Sam a grateful look, only for her to return it with a concerned one. Shoot. They were almost at the point of demanding answers.
He just didn't know what to tell them. He wanted to tell them everything - about Harry's school, the injustice that he and Jazz had been facing - but there was a part of him that felt guilty at the thought of betraying Harry's trust. Not like he deserves it , Danny thought.
He also felt guilty that he didn't share the information with them sooner. Harry had asked him to keep it a secret and as their knowledge grew dangerous, he didn't want Sam and Tucker to be caught in the crossfire. His chest ached at the thought. He still wanted to keep them safe, and sometimes ignorance was the safer option… even if it meant deflecting their concern.
"Your field trip to the museum tomorrow will give you a perspective of ancient Egypt that will give you a better understanding of the trials and tribulations of Aida . Make sure to return your copies here and to bring your packets tomorrow. We'll leave right after the tardy bell. You are dismissed."
"I haven't been to the museum in ages!" Sam exclaimed as they packed their things.
"This will really cut into planning time for my speech," Tucker complained.
"I told you not to worry about it. I have your speech already written out," Sam stated cheerfully.
"I told you that I wanted to write it," Tucker replied with irritation.
"And now you don't have to," Sam said, proudly handing him a finished speech.
Tucker scanned the document. "Frog dissection cancellation? Vegetarian lunch options? Sam, none of this is what I want to propose!" he exclaimed in frustration.
"It's what should be proposed," Sam countered with her arms crossed.
"You're not listening to me," Tucker said with a frustration that had been growing from days of being ignored. His gaze went to Danny's clouded one. " None of you are listening to me!" He couldn't take it anymore and stormed out of the room, almost hitting Lancer with his copy of Aida on his way out.
"We'll get him to relent," Sam claimed before handing a frazzled Lancer her copy and following Tucker out the room.
The door slammed shut and drew Danny out of his thoughts. "Where'd everyone go?" he asked, looking around.
"One would hope home, Mr. Fenton," Lancer replied tiredly. "I'd think you'd at least pay attention to the time if not my lectures." He gave him a stern look. "Shape up, Danny, I'd hate to give you detention this early on."
"Yes sir," Danny replied, shouldering his backpack and beelining his way out the class.
"Mr. Fenton," Lancer called out irritably, before Danny could leave. When Danny turned back, Lancer held his hand out expectantly.
Danny looked down at the book in his hand and gave him a sheepish smile. "Sorry." He handed the book over to his teacher.
He turned to leave, "Mr. Fenton," Lancer's exasperated voice called back again. Danny turned to see Lancer pulling out a sapphire card with gold trimming from his book. The card's age was revealed in its dented edges and warped water damage. Its peculiar hexagonal shape separated it from most trading cards.
"Your bookmark." Lancer held it out for him to take.
"Right," Danny muttered, grabbing the card and shoving it in his back pocket. He was glad that Lancer didn't look at the card too closely or he might have read something peculiar. "Sorry, Mr. Lancer, it must be the summer heat getting to my head."
At the brief contact, Lancer rubbed his hand. "And yet you are freezing! Please tell me your parents aren't feeding you ectoplasm again."
Danny cracked a fake smile. "Not intentionally."
Lancer looked at him with concern. He took in the forced smile and baggy eyes. "At least try to get more iron in your system."
"Yes sir," Danny saluted before leaving.
Lancer sat down and released a sigh that spoke of years of exhaustion. Mentally preparing himself for another call to CPS, he grabbed the phone.
.
A/N - Long time no update! I went from the backcountry to back to school in full force. Updates will be slow since I'm stretched pretty thin right now. This chapter was basically a tee up for what's to come :) I hope you enjoyed!
