Chapter 55

Percy had already Apparated to work and Molly was cooking breakfast when she heard the barking. Since they didn't have a dog nor any other animals that might make a similar sound, at first she assumed she had imagined it and continued turning around inside her head her latest worry: Percy. Something was going on with him, but he refused to talk about it. In the last week he had left without having breakfast and returned well after dinner every single day, and according to Arthur he didn't seem to make a break for lunch in the Ministry. The last time she had broached the subject of his eating habits he had snapped at her and told her he was old enough to take care of himself.

She understood that he was stressed out about work —he was too young and inexperienced to be running an entire department! What was Bartemius Crouch thinking leaving him in charge?— but she wished he would at least talk to them. It was torture for a mother to be unable to share her children's burdens, to just watch as they struggled with unknown problems.

Her thoughts were again interrupted by the same out-of-place sound.

"Did I hear barking?" asked Arthur walking into the kitchen with his robes the wrong way.

"I heard it too," she said. "I thought I had imagined it, but..."

They stood still, and a moment later they heard it again. It was clearly barking. Molly put breakfast on pause while Arthur finished wrestling with his robes, and then they went outside in search of the source of the noise.

And there it was, a huge black stray, very thin and shaggy, sitting on its haunches next to the pond and moving its tale while it barked. Had it come from the village? That was odd. Molly was pretty sure that no one starved animals in the area; with so many magical people living close by, Muggles tended to "magically" behave.

"Merlin!" exclaimed Arthur suddenly, too loud for it to be a reaction to the dog. Molly looked in the direction he was looking, and her mouth dropped.

There was a hippogriff there, too. It was a majestic beast, although also pretty thin, regarding them with the natural superiority and mistrust of hippogriffs and clearly wondering if they were worthy of it.

The dog had stopped barking when they had come out, and now he —it was a boy, evidently— had rolled on his back, begging for some attention. After a moment hesitation, Arthur walked forward, keeping his wand tightly gripped and giving the hippogriff a wide berth just in case.

"It has something around his neck," said Arthur out loud when he reached the dog. "Some sort of collar. And..."

"What, Arthur?" demanded Molly, anxious.

He laughed.

"Come here, honey, you have to see this."

She was still anxious, but Arthur's laugh had relaxed her somewhat. She rushed forward, keeping an eye on the other beast, and stopped next to her husband. He was scratching the dog's belly, to the animal's obvious pleasure. Arthur handed her a small roll of parchment.

"It was tied up to the collar."

Noticing that said 'collar' was nothing but a loose rope around the dog's neck, Molly unrolled the parchment and read.

I'm Harry's dog.

Please, feed me!

PS. I won't eat the chickens. I'm a good dog.

She stared at the words with incredulity.

"Harry? Does it mean... Harry?"

"I'm pretty sure that's his hand," said Arthur. "Ron showed us some of his letters, remember? And Percy did say that Harry's hostage in the second task was a dog."

"But how...?" she looked around the yard, half-expecting to see Harry, but there was no one in sight. If this was Harry's dog, how had it gotten here? The accompanying presence of a hippogriff suggested that some flying might have been involved in delivering the dog here, but if so how had Harry gone away again? "Why didn't he knock at the door? Or leave a proper letter, at least?"

"He probably fears we will not be able to help him if he asks for our help." Arthur chuckled. "The dog is asking, though."

Molly stared at the dog. He had sat again and was looking at her with big, beseeching grey eyes.

"All right..." she said, still very confused. They couldn't turn away the dog if it was obviously so important to Harry, not to mention that the animal clearly needed some care. "What about the hippogriff?"

They looked at the beast. None of their children had ever brought home such a big and dangerous creature, although Charlie no doubt had entertained the idea.

"I think there is another message in its collar," observed Arthur.

He approached the animal slowly and bowed. Arthur was a very respectful man, Molly was certain he could earn the trust of a hippogriff just by speaking at it, but better to follow proper procedure. The beast bowed back immediately, and Arthur approached to pat his neck —it was also a boy, Molly noticed— and to retrieve another roll of parchment. He laughed again before hovering the note through the air in her direction. She read.

I'm Harry's hippogriff.

Please, respect me!

PS. I will probably eat the chickens if you let me. I prefer ferrets, though.

Molly was torn between amusement and suspicion. These messages... they stank at Weasley. Harry wasn't so humorous, and it was odd that he would mention the chickens, as if he knew that would be an issue when deciding to take in a dog and a hippogriff. She felt sure that some of her children —probably the twins— was behind this.

She looked at her husband, who was still chuckling.

"Well..." he said with a shrug. "We did take him into the family, Molly. This is what children do."

Yes, this was what children did. And Molly usually yelled a lot because of this sort of things. Most of the times Arthur simply laughed and went along with his children's mischief, shrugging away the fact that it could be dangerous. Like a hippogriff. Where could Harry have found such a beast? Was it stolen? Molly had learned to avoid asking questions whenever she could, though. And the truth was that she trusted Harry's judgment far more than the twins'. Like Fred and George, Harry often got in trouble for breaking the rules, but unlike them he always seemed to do it to protect someone. He was more like Charlie, that way. While the twins would have probably stolen a hippogriff just to cause trouble, Harry had probably rescued this one from a bad environment. And the dog too, judging by his state.

Both animals plainly needed a home, and oddly enough Harry had brought them here.

She sighed and directed her most stern look at the dog.

"It better be true that you're a good dog. And you better start eating immediately, we have to fill you up."

The dog wagged his tail and gently licked her hand. Molly sighed again and wondered whether she should take him for a check up to a muggle vet or to the Menagerie in Diagon Alley. She also began planning wards to be raised around the hen house.

How many ferrets a day would a hippogriff devour?

Despite the unexpected complications, she couldn't help smiling as she walked back to the house with the new pet on her heels. It was the first time Harry did something like any of her children would do. He had reached out to them, to his family.

He had trusted them with what he would miss the most.

Arthur only took the time to tie the hippogriff to a tree before Apparating away to work, leaving Molly to figure out what to feed him. Raising adequate wards would take a couple of days, since hippogriffs were very smart and strong creatures and Arthur wanted to devise something that not only would protect the chickens but would also allow the creature to fly around without attracting attention from Muggles. Her silly husband was also worried about the garden gnomes, making a point before departing of imploring her not to let either the hippogriff or the dog eat them.

On her part, despite Harry's note Molly didn't yet trust the dog with the chickens, and was determined to keep it in sight or tied up until she could verify just how 'good' the animal was. So far it had not caused any trouble, simply eating the meal she had prepared for him and lying down to sleep in a corner of the kitchen. Molly sat watching him for a long time, wondering where he came from and why they hadn't known of his existence until now. She assumed that Ron and Hermione had known, but it was odd that no one else had, and that Arthur hadn't seen it at the Dursleys' house when he had gone to pick up Harry last summer.

She had been surprized and concerned when Percy had told them about the second task. All the other champions had had people as hostages, except Harry. What did it say about him that he cared about a dog more than about any person? Molly wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer to that question. She also wasn't sure she wanted to know why he had brought the dog here instead of to his relatives' house. Those Muggles must be responsible for the state of the animal, and clearly Harry no longer trusted them with his care.

Dumbledore would not be able to dodge her inquiries any longer. She was determined to find out what exactly was going on in the Dursley household and to bring Harry home with them straight from school next summer if the Headmaster's answers didn't satisfy her.

Should she write to Dumbledore to tell him about the dog and hippogriff they had received? At least to ask him for confirmation that Harry was all right and safe back in Hogwarts? She suspected that the hippogriff wasn't exactly Harry's, though, and she didn't want to risk Dumbledore sending the dog to the Dursleys. Harry had trusted them to take care of both animals, and she intended to do just that.

She considered writing to some of her children to ask, but she rejected the idea immediately knowing that all her children would likely lie about any involvement in flying a hippogriff across the country when they should be at school. No doubt at least one of them was involved, but they had been smart enough to let Harry claim all the blame knowing that she was less likely to send him a Howler.

Molly spent a few hours that morning reading up about hippogriffs. Lockhart had a lot to say on the subject in Marauding with Monsters, and as usual his deep insight and attention to detail was unmatched. She got so caught up with the book that she had read two chapters on a completely unrelated subject before she remembered that she was supposed to be researching hippogriffs. Perhaps she should take the book upstairs to read before bed.

The dog must have been exhausted, because he didn't wake up from his nap until lunchtime. To his credit, the first thing he did was to go to the door and whine until Molly let him out. She watched him outside while he did his business, ready to fire a hex at him if he went after the chickens, but the dog didn't try anything except approaching the hippogriff, which Molly allowed seeing that the beast seemed to tolerate him well.

Then it came the time for the bath. At first it went well, the dog even seemed to enjoy the hot water and the soapy massage. What he did not enjoy was her attempt to wash his private parts, attempt that resulted in a lot of yelling and struggling and water and foam all over the bathroom. In the end Molly gave up and finished drying him with a spell, deciding to just let the cursed animal wash himself in the future.

At least she had learned that, while horribly stubborn, the dog wasn't aggressive.

Wanting to get over with all basic errands today, that afternoon she changed into Muggle clothes, conjured a leash, and walked with the dog down to the village, having decided that it must be a Muggle dog that Harry had rescued at some point during his muggle childhood. Unnecessary to say that the animal enjoyed the visit to the vet even less than he had enjoyed his bits being washed. He really looked terrified, and Molly almost had to use a restraining spell (followed by obliviation of the vet) when he wildly rebelled against any more procedures. She had to agree with the poor animal, though, Muggles had really gruesome ways to administer potions as well as rather invasive examination techniques.

She came back home feeling even more concerned than before after the muggle healer had explained that the dog showed symptoms of chronic starvation and neglect.

"He needs a lot of love, in addition to food," was the final recommendation.

Well, Molly certainly knew how to provide those two elementary things.

Predictably, when Arthur returned home and Molly told him about her day he immediately began interrogating her about the Muggle vet and everything the man had done. She rolled her eyes and began to describe the painful potion-administering device, to brusquely interrupt herself when she saw the eager look on her husband's face. The next ten minutes were spent making sure he knew how angry she would be if he ever did something so foolish as going to a muggle healer himself just to try out those medieval inventions.

Properly chastised for his dangerous ideas, Arthur took more seriously the rest of her account, especially the part about the chronic starvation and neglect. He frowned thoughtfully when she expressed her fears of what the dog's condition might say about Harry's relatives and how they might treat him. Finally he sighed and removed his glasses to carefully clean them the Muggle way like he often did when he was gathering his thoughts.

"We don't know anything about this dog, Molly," he said at last. "We don't know where Harry found it or where he kept it until now, for all we know he might have come across it in Hogsmeade, already in this deplorable state, and hidden it in the Forbidden Forest. I don't think we should make any assumptions about Harry's relatives without more information."

"But Arthur!" she complained. "We know Harry wasn't eating enough last summer..."

"Harry said that the entire family was supporting his cousin on his diet..."

"Harry needs to eat more, not less!" she hissed. "He's always too thin when he comes to us at the end of the holidays... And you can't have forgotten about the time the children had to go rescue him!"

"We don't know if Harry really needed rescue on that occasion," Arthur said tiredly. "The kids might have overreacted. We have locked our children in their rooms as punishment plenty of times, Molly, and I'm sure they always thought they needed urgent rescue. As to the bars in the window... that's how Muggles ward their homes against burglary."

"What about the time he inflated his aunt and ran away?" demanded Molly.

"Again, we don't know what happened that night. Accidental magic happens for all sorts of reasons, anything could have upset Harry and made him lose control, especially considering that his magic seems to be unusually powerful. As to the running away, I understand there had been some sort of family argument over dinner..."

"I can't believe you're defending them, Arthur!"

"I'm not," he said firmly. "I'm just saying that we don't have all the facts, so we shouldn't jump to conclusions. The Dursleys are undoubtedly difficult Muggles, and plainly Harry doesn't get along with them, but that doesn't necessarily mean they have neglected him."

"It is neglect if they don't love him," said Molly fiercely. "If they don't want him."

Arthur sighed.

"Unfortunately, it's not up to us, Molly. Dumbledore has said that Harry is safe with his relatives and that he must stay there during most of the holidays, to keep the wards up."

"But-"

"Harry is safer in that house during the summer than he could ever be here, Molly," said Arthur. "We can't offer similar wards. We do have other things to offer, but not that level of security. Each time we bring him here during the holidays we're putting him at risk, a risk that we choose to ignore because we are at peace. But you know what happened last summer during the World Cup, how close that was..." He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples for a long moment. "I don't think we will be at peace much longer. There are worrying signs... Harry's involvement in the Tournament is definitely not an accident, Molly. Someone is trying to harm him, and I fear that if they don't succeed in the third task they will continue trying. Considering that, I'm not sure I will take the risk of bringing him here next summer."

Arthur's words were like a punch in the gut. Molly wanted to protest, but she could see how serious her husband was, how concerned about threats far more grave than the lack of a loving environment. She knew that things were getting darker, but... well, perhaps she hadn't wanted to think too much about it.

Molly had been hoping to bring Harry home directly from Hogwarts, and now it turned out he might not come at all?

How could they welcome his pet but not him?

She turned her gaze to the dog, and saw that the animal was very alert, watching them from his place on the rug. Could he sense they were talking about Harry? Perhaps he understood the name? Could Arthur be right about Harry having found the dog in Hogsmeade? Maybe it wasn't a muggle dog at all, in which case Harry might have a familiar bond with him (and in which case perhaps taking him to the Muggle vet hadn't been the best idea).

Molly's thoughts were interrupted when the dog's head suddenly jerked, his ears pricking up, and a moment later Percy's voice came from the kitchen.

"Why is there a hippogriff in the-" her son came to an abrupt stop when he walked into the sitting room and his eyes fell on the new addition to the family. "What is that dog doing here?"

Percy's tone was sharp, and the dog instinctively bristled in response, but an even sharper shush from Molly quieted him.

"This is Harry's dog, apparently," said Arthur amiably from his armchair. "He delivered him to us today, along with the hippogriff."

"The... what?"

"These two appeared outside this morning after you left," explained Arthur with amusement. "They had notes from Harry tied around their necks, asking to take care of them."

"How...? Harry is supposed to be at Hogwarts!" exclaimed Percy with a mixture of disapproval and concern. An instant later his eyes narrowed. "I bet the twins have something to do with this. They must have stolen the hippogriff from the school's herd!"

"The note said it's Harry's," said Arthur with a shrug. "In any case, we will keep him until we can clarify the situation with Harry. The dog too."

Percy stared from the dog, to his father, to Molly, and to the dog again. He seemed to be thinking hard, his eyes still narrowed like a Prefect sniffing for mischief.

"There was a hippogriff last year," he said finally, a triumphant glint in his eyes. "A violent beast that attacked a student and was sentenced by the Ministry to death. It escaped before it could be executed."

Molly and Arthur exchanged a look. Arthur still seemed amused, but he tried to get serious to address Percy's unveiled accusation.

"This hippogriff doesn't seem aggressive at all —not more than it is natural for a hippogriff, that is—. But we will handle him cautiously, just in case."

"We should report it to the Ministry," said Percy crossing his arms. "Or at least to Hogwarts. And Professor Dumbledore should be told that Harry and possibly the twins or Ron sneaked out of school. They should be punished, and-"

"We will do nothing of that," Arthur cut him off firmly, standing up to look at his son from above with a severe expression. "We believe these animals were mistreated or neglected in their previous environment, and that Harry rescued them, as he is prone to do. We will discuss with him this issue —particularly how he delivered them here when he should be at school— the next time we see him, but for now we will trust he had good reasons to do this."

"If I'm right and that hippogriff is the one that escaped its execution then we would be breaking the law hiding it!"

"We don't know where the hippogriff comes from," said Arthur calmly. "As far as we know it belongs to Harry, and as such it is welcomed in our home. We will take care of him and keep him safe for the moment. And you, Percy, will not mention any of this to anyone at the Ministry, do I make myself clear?"

Percy pursed his lips angrily, scowling at his father, but Arthur's tone had been stern and final, and all his children knew not to defy him when he used that tone.

Not daring to pursue the hippogriff subject, Percy turned instead to the dog, pointing at it with an angry finger.

"That animal is definitely aggressive," he spat. "I saw with my own eyes how it almost ripped off Professor Snape's arm!"

Molly glanced at the dog in alarm. To be sure, the animal looked perfectly capable of ripping off an arm or even a head without much effort, but she hadn't seen any sign of aggressiveness from it all day, not even when the Muggle vet had pretty much assaulted him.

"Ron said that Professor Snape always mistreats Harry," she pointed out. She had never paid much attention when her younger son ranted against the Potions Professor, but Skeeter's article had forced her to consider the matter more seriously. "And he's... well, we know what he is. It wouldn't be the first time a familiar reacts protectively when his owner feels threatened."

Percy opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. Molly knew he —like most people— had conflicting opinions on the subject of Severus Snape, having the man gone from being one of his most respected Professors to a Death Eater most people in the Ministry wanted to see in Azkaban. Molly herself wasn't sure what to think of it.

"Harry cheated!" blurted out Percy, sounding really childish. "Somehow he tricked the Goblet to choose a dog as hostage, he almost kills us all!"

Both Molly and Arthur blinked at their son in perplexity.

"What are you talking about, Percy?" asked Arthur with a frown.

"There was this incident, a few days before the second task," said Percy. "I wasn't at Hogwarts, so I didn't feel it, but I was informed. The Goblet of Fire issued Harry a warning for cheating. Dumbledore is covering it up, refuses to say what Harry did, but it's obvious they somehow managed to change the hostage. We could all have died that night!"

Molly felt a shiver run down her spine. Her son was very pale, truly afraid, she realized, even though he was trying to mask his fear with anger.

"What do you mean you could have died, Percy?" she asked anxiously. "It's Harry's name in the Goblet, not yours, how...?"

"I'm acting Head of International Cooperation," he said, for once not sounding smug about it, "so the Goblet can kill me if I don't do my duty as judge, or if someone tries to interfere with the Goblet. All of us, me, Bagman, Dumbledore, the Minister, perhaps all the representatives from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang too, could have dropped dead because of what Harry did. It has happened before, Harry was lucky to receive just a warning. He gives a damn whether he condemns us all, and you reward his behaviour by sheltering his dog and that bloody hippogriff?!"

Horror was too mild a word to describe what Molly was feeling right now. She turned to look at her husband, desperately in need of denial, or reassurance, or anything.

"Did you know about this, Arthur?"

Arthur shook his head slowly. He was staring at Percy with a very hard-to-read expression, not so openly horrified as Molly was but no doubt concerned and afraid too.

"What didn't you tell us, Percy?" he asked quietly after a silent minute.

Their son looked away, his face closing up again. Clearly he was regretting having revealed so much of his inner turmoil in a moment of unusual vulnerability. When he looked back up he had managed to rearrange his angry mask.

"I didn't tell you because I knew you would want me to quit," he snapped. "But I won't resign! Mr. Crouch left me in charge, and I can do this job perfectly. It wouldn't be dangerous at all if only Harry stopped breaking all the rules! He shouldn't have killed the dragon in the first task, and he shouldn't have cheated before the second, nor rescued Delacour's hostage, nor forming an alliance... Any of those things could have ended in disaster! It's like he doesn't even care about the risks, he doesn't care that he's not the only one who could drop dead as a result of his actions!"

His composure was breaking again, but when Molly tried to go to him, eager to comfort him, he jerked away and retreated several steps. She stood frozen, heart clenched.

"We didn't know your life was at risk too, Percy," said Arthur after another silent pause. "I suspect Harry doesn't know either. Harry doesn't have the option of resigning, however. He is forced to participate, and he's doing it as well as he can. I understand your fears, but I don't think it's fair of you to blame Harry. That dragon would have killed him if he had not killed it first. Without an ally probably he wouldn't have survived the second task. That girl he rescued... he rescued her on the same impulse that led him to save your sister two years ago, and I'm sure the girl's sister and parents are as grateful for that as we all are for Ginny's survival." Arthur paused to take a deep breath and probably to compose himself while Molly silently conjured a handkerchief to dry her tears. "As to the cheating you mentioned, I don't know anything about it, so I can't comment on that, but for what I know of Harry I am certain that he didn't imagine anyone but himself could get hurt doing whatever he did. Percy..." he looked at his son beseechingly, "I know you don't want to hear this, but I must implore you to step aside, if you fear for your life. Harry can't quit, but you can."

Percy had began to shake his head long before Arthur had finished talking.

"I won't quit," he said resolutely.

Arthur stared at his son for another long minute before nodding in resignation.

"It is your decision," he conceded, and it took Molly all her self-control not to argue with that. "Sheltering Harry's dog and hippogriff, however, is my decision as head of the family, and you will abide by it."

Percy scowled at the dog again, but he didn't challenge his father's decision. After a moment Arthur sighed and walked past his son and out of the room, probably to hide for a while in his shed or to go check on the hippogriff.

Her son stood where he was for a few minutes, lost in thought, before heading towards the stairs.

"Percy," she called hesitantly. He stopped with a foot on the first step, "Do you know the dog's name?"

Percy seemed to consider for a long time whether to answer or not.

"Dumbledore called it Snuffles or something like that," he finally said.

A minute later she heard him slam shut the door of his bedroom.