In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 69: Visitors
Hedwig swooped down as Harry ran Friday morning in the cool air beneath the fair morning skies above in the breaking of daylight, having lost track of the time.
Hoot!
A silver haired lady, tending to her front hedges in front of her row house, smiled and waved. Harry grinned, returned the wave as he ran past her. Harry turned into the zebra crossing.
Honk!
Screech of the brakes, Harry glanced at the man glaring back at him. Harry shrugged, continued across, and the motorcar continued. A turn onto Ashton Lane, Harry came to the familiar foot path, one his toes dug into, and he came to a halt in front of 26 Oak Street. A twist of the knob, Hedwig flew around the house, while Harry entered the green door set in the orange firebrick.
"Harry," said Kristen.
Harry removed his shoes, turned toward her, and focused in the oversized mug of coffee in her hands as she glanced up from the armchair near the fireplace. Her legs wrapped in her sweats, folded up beneath her.
"Thought you were working," Harry said.
"Busted by health and safety," Kristen said, "So, I'm forced to take time off."
Harry snorted.
"Sometimes it is needed," Kristen said, "Expect you're leaving for school in a short while."
"It's complicated," Harry replied.
Kristen sipped at her mug.
"Suppose we should talk," Kristen said.
Harry moved over to the sofa, leaned back against it. Harry studied her eyes.
"How's everything going?" Kristen asked.
Harry took another minute.
"So so," Harry said, moving over to sit on the sofa.
A crackle from the fireplace, Harry glanced at the charring log drop into the others, before he returned his eyes to hers.
"Couldn't help but notice," Kristen said, "Heard both you and Ron apparently slept most of the day yesterday, tired from his…what did you call it? Under the weather?"
"Something like that," Harry said, before he spotted the doubt in her eyes, "He's…Ill, actually. Don't worry though, the school nurse has visited him several times—"
"Hospitals are more than sculptures," Kristen said.
"Familiar surroundings," Harry said, "Um…if you're worried, she'll be back later this morning, you can talk with her."
Kristen nibbled at a biscuit, sipped from her cup. Harry took advantage of her pause to change the topic.
"Anything on Diggle?" Harry asked, curious.
"Strange that we're getting letters upon letters insisting that you're the culprit," Kristen said, "Some seemed to shout—figure it must've been Dale Tate's latest—he's good with pranks and jokes."
Harry smirked, slightly, realized it's how a Howler would likely come across to a muggle.
"Sheer number wanting to ignore evidence and fry you," Kristen said, "I've never seen it before."
Harry stood, walked past her to the fireplace, bent over to grab the poker. Harry moved the log in the fire, grabbed a new bit of firewood, tossed it on.
"Not surprised," Harry grumbled as he turned back around, "Not exactly well liked at school."
"St. Mary's, right?" Kristen asked.
Harry nodded.
"Whose name starts with H'?" Kristen asked.
"Aw," Harry muttered.
"A background check is standard procedure," Kristen said, "Same school listed for you, Ron, Hermione, Mr. Diggle, and this Finch–Fletchley boy we found. That's not a coincidence, is it?"
"No," Harry said as he leaned back against the sofa. "Sorry, laws of this isle prohibit me from telling you the real name or where it is—wish I could."
"Judging by you being here all the time," Kristen said, "Your attendance record is spotty at best."
"It was good…until this term," Harry said, "Headmaster sympathizes, but his hands are tied."
Harry wanted to tell her everything.
"Seems to me that your problems at school—which you've been quite elusive about," Kristen said, "That'd be a good spot to generate a list of enemies to investigate."
"Wish you could," Harry said, "You'd do it thoroughly and you'd do a better job—"
"Ta," Kristen said.
Harry caught a thought in her eyes, a name, one she'd heard of, one that let him drop it.
"An open mind to the obvious is what they lack," Harry said as he stood, again. He crossed his arms. "They ignore the motives of the Death Eaters."
"They're real?" Kristen asked, "Ron said—"
"They're most definitely, real," Harry said as he shifted his weight to his left foot, "And they have motive enough."
"No reason to kill," Kristen said.
"For them, no reason is good reason…" Harry stopped himself, realized he was about to tell his full tale, but couldn't without spilling magic, his past. "They get a perverse pleasure from killing, hence the name."
Chirp! Chirp! Ding!
Harry glanced at the clock on the mantel of the fireplace, the morning was already in progress.
"If you'll excuse me," Harry said, "School nurse should be along shortly."
"Of course," Kristen said.
Harry turned, felt the carpet beneath his toes, until he got to the stairs and went up. Harry smiled as Gia headed into the bathroom, heard the shower start, however, Harry entered Gia's bedroom. Hermione was sitting cross–legged on the bed, she flipped the pages to The Daily Prophet spread out on the duvet.
"You went running?" Hermione said, "Thought you needed rest, or so you claimed."
"At a certain point," Harry said as he closed the door, "Simply needed to get out."
Harry turned, picked up the envelope addressed to them in emerald green ink.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Ms. Granger,
The Board of Governors passed another resolution. The Minister of Magic is now authorized to issue suspensions of up to a month. I am obliged to honor them.
Albus Dumbledore
"That may be advantageous," Hermione said.
"Why?!" Harry exclaimed.
"The reality is that we can study more during a suspension," Hermione said, "Now, I need—"
Knock! Knock!
"Yes?" Harry asked as he sat behind Hermione.
"A Madam Pomfrey is here to see Ron," Kristen said as she opened the door.
"Sure," Harry said, "Let her in."
"Good morning Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey said as she entered.
Madam Pomfrey stepped over stuff on the other side of the bed, pulled the duvet, to show Ron, as she started to feel and examine.
"Thank you for bringing her up," Harry said to Kristen.
"It's my house and I'm concerned," Kristen said, "So, I'm curious to how he's doing."
"I'll inform you of the results," Madam Pomfrey said.
"Harry," Kristen said, "I'm holding you responsible if I don't get full disclosure."
Kristen stepped out, closed the door.
"Meaning?" Hermione snapped.
"She's a muggle and smart," Harry whispered, his chin on Hermione's left shoulder, "She knows St. Mary's is a ruse. It's getting dicier to keep her in the dark."
Madam Pomfrey's wand roamed over Ron. Harry glanced down at The Daily Prophet in front of Hermione.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Statement from the Minister
by Victor Fallerschain
As Minister for Magic, I am naturally concerned by the rumors of vandalism that had occurred at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this past week. However, that pales in comparison to the paranoia that Potter is rumored to be experiencing, a persecution complex deluding him into preparing and carrying out a descent into darkness. If, as reports hint, a group of concerned citizens are taking it upon themselves to proactively help address Potter's madness, I suggest they coordinate with the Ministry of Magic.
Harry sniffed at the scent of apple that he knew came from the shampoo.
"They love you," Hermione said, "You're still getting blamed for Diggle and Finch–Fletchley."
"Explains the campaign being waged with Kristen," Harry said, "They're getting Howlers at her work."
"How are we expected to keep magic a secret when they do that?" Hermione asked.
"Had to explicitly state we're under a secrecy decree," Harry said, "That'll stop the questions, but won't stifle her curiosity."
"Don't be the leak," Hermione replied.
Madam Pomfrey sighed.
"Trouble with being wizards in a muggle household," Harry grumbled.
"Most of our kind chose seclusion to make that…manageable," Madam Pomfrey said.
"Ron's doing better?" Hermione asked.
"I think the worst is over," Madam Pomfrey said, "However, I plan to keep Mr. Weasley in the coma for a short while longer."
"So we can't wake him?" Hermione asked.
"And he's second only to Mr. Potter on complying with orders to rest!" Madam Pomfrey said, "Well, they're in competition with the Headmaster."
Hermione snorted, Harry blushed. Madam Pomfrey pointed her finger at Harry.
"Study up on the general Healing charm if you haven't already," Madam Pomfrey said, "I can assign an essay if that'd help you."
"He'll do it," Hermione volunteered.
"Hermione," Harry whispered.
"Do not make excuses Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey said, "As you swore me off as your Healer, then you must be able to handle things You might yearn to debate me on this, but I'm rather certain your friends and girlfriend have a vested interest in you learning."
"Thank you for tending to Ron," Harry said, "Talk to Kristen."
"Have a pleasant day," Madam Pomfrey said.
Madam Pomfrey left the bedroom.
"Hermione?" Harry asked.
"In the heat of the moment," Hermione said, "Ron chose you, not me, for help. One big risk."
"Got that prophecy to contend with," Harry said, "Can't die before then."
"Wanna bet?" Hermione said, "Study—you owe me!"
"Alright, alright," Harry said.
Harry turned to the desk, a letter to him and a big heavy package addressed to Hedwig and Pigwidgeon Disposal, LLC. Harry opened the letter, set the enclosed quill aside.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Harry Potter
After your abysmal and appalling behavior at St. Mungo's Hospital, you have been billed for damages occurred. 5,000 Galleons have been added to your bill, now outstanding at 6,500 Galleons. Enclosed is a quill to write out 5,000 lines, "I will not damage hospitals." Remit these by the end of next week.
Dolores Umbridge
Chair of the Harry Potter Guidance Committee
"Think they're trying to drain you dry," Hermione said.
"Figure that out?" Harry asked.
"I wouldn't trust that letter to wipe my arse," Hermione said, "Now, I suspect Percy's book deal with Ronald is the most useful."
Harry snorted.
"Thank you for that assessment," said Percy as he entered through the open door.
Red hair, in a pinstriped suit, Percy's stature was above Harry's.
"Thank you for those," Harry said, "Already been useful."
"A department of the Ministry is allocated only so many," Percy said, "They can't go over the quota, if so, then they have to be disposed of."
"Aw," Harry said.
"So," Percy said, "How's Ron?"
"I'd like a bit of privacy," Harry said as he reached for a dirty towel.
"I've got little sick leave as it is," Percy said, "Since he's here—"
"We had no good spot," Harry said, "All the others were denied to us."
"He'll recover," Hermione said, "Madam Pomfrey thought it best to keep him asleep until then."
"I need to talk to you," Percy said.
"She can—" Harry started.
"In private," Percy said, "No shared walls."
"This way," Harry said, motioning.
Harry escorted Percy down the steps, waved at Kristen, and took another hard right to the second set of stairs.
"They had a study," Harry said.
"You had anything—?" Percy asked.
"Their daughter's a bit eccentric," Harry said, leading Percy into Richard's workshop, mostly restored to a semblance of order.
Harry turned around, leaned back against a chair.
Percy shook his head.
"How much do you know about your finances?" Percy asked.
Harry studied the eyes, there was depth to the question, but Harry couldn't understand it.
"Pile of gold in Gringotts, right?" Harry asked as he crossed his arms.
"Not much then," Percy said, "As the perk in a Ministry job is the benefits and networking, not pay, I've taken to consulting for Gringotts. Goblins are rather irritated that their vaults are being used for money laundering—"
"That takes soap, right?" Harry asked.
"Not that type," Percy said, "Your personal vault is empty."
"What?!" Harry stammered as he stood up.
"Relax!" Percy said, hand reached and grabbed Harry's shoulder, "Goblins are sorting this out, it's covered by their deposit insurance, may take a bit of time to sort out, that's all."
Took a moment until he relaxed. Harry's butt returned to the back of the swiveled chair, and he leaned against it.
"Earlier this week," Percy said, "Contents vault number 687, yours, was transferred into Mr. Diggle's vault the morning after his death. Yours is one of many involved in unauthorized transactions."
A motion of feet, Harry's wand was out by the time Lupin's face showed in the door, crowding them into the small room.
"Daedalus mentioned something last week," Lupin said.
Harry caught those sullen eyes, ones that wanted to hide the scope of it.
"He was murdered over this?" Harry demanded.
Percy's eyes glared at Lupin for a moment, Lupin with the ragged worn brown suit, before he returned his attention to Harry.
"Though a fool," Percy said, "Diggle kept meticulous financial records—as some on more limited means do, and it'd be wise for you to start doing."
"Debit card works," Harry said.
"And can be tracked," Percy said, "I've examined Diggle's records, and while I know how much he's spent on self–cleaning cat litter, I also know that small transactions were occurring that he could not account for as he'd try to reconcile his ledger against his statements."
Harry shifted his weight, watched those blue eyes, ones that truly agreed that something fishy was going on, for Percy had seen evidence he believed in.
"And it's only gotten worse after his death," Percy said, "Instead of petty transactions, its huge ones, like your personal vault, drained into his, along with a fair chunk of the Potter Family Trust."
"The what?" Harry asked.
"We put it aside—oh," Percy said, "Not surprising you weren't aware, Dumbledore tends not to elaborate despite making the arrangements."
"Dumbledore?" Harry said, "He tends to…" Fur brushed against his feet. "Meddle."
Harry bent over, picked up Crookshanks, rubbed the belly.
"Your parents died without a will," Percy said, "Thus, as the last Potter, you inherited everything including the family trust. Obviously, you were too young to manage it, so the Headmaster stepped in, filled the role as executor of their estate until you were of age."
"Ta," Harry grumbled.
"Only others in line to do so would've been Petunia Dursley," Percy stated.
Harry knew Uncle Vernon would've enjoyed it, glad that didn't happen as Dudley was spoiled enough as it was.
"Won't bore you with the details to how trusts work," Percy said, "Your vault was your father's, containing his money, along with tribute from various people over the years. And Albus Dumbledore has invested some of both the trust and your money in various ventures, property, with some pretty decent returns. No, Albus Dumbledore's doing you a favor managing the vaults for you."
"Guess I hadn't thought about it," Harry said, "Kinda…you know, been there."
"And gone," Percy said.
"How much went missing?" Lupin asked.
"Don't have an exact figure, yet," Percy said, "Millions of galleons involved, maybe more. Goblins are pissed, so they hired an outside auditor—me—to help them sort it out, as this is costing them dearly."
"Thank you," Harry said.
"If you'll excuse me," Percy said, "I need to get back to work."
Percy went across the basement, climbed the stairs.
"Can you trust him?" Lupin asked Harry.
"Why?" Harry replied.
"Fred, George, even Charlie and Bill, all have tried writing him only to get Howlers and curses in return," Lupin said, "Exactly why he's willing to go to bat for you or Ronald is—well, baffling."
Harry thought about it for a moment, wondered how much disdain Percy was putting up with by talking to Ron and himself, before he latched onto one possibility.
"Might be a debt—we did rescue him last year," Harry said, scratching Crookshanks beneath the chin, "Otherwise, beats me. Nice to see him—and useful."
"Advising caution," Lupin said, "If he's benign, no harm, though admit he managed to get you a nice book collection. How somebody walks out of the Ministry with those—it's an offense on par with an Unforgivable. Not to mention the failure for them to self–destruct. Keep them safe, think you'll need them—not even Voldemort has those."
"Give Hermione some essays?" Harry bemused.
"I'll have Moody stop by—" Lupin started.
"What?!" Harry snapped.
Meow!
Crookshanks jumped out of Harry's arms.
"You have Ron in a—your mind is likely—" Lupin said, "I mean, you're worth the extra precautions."
Harry glared at those sullen eyes, the ones searching for a way to soft peddle his concerns.
"Not only do I consider you a dear friend," Lupin said, "You're the offspring of two dearly departed childhood friends of mine."
Harry continued his glare, his arms crossed.
"So," Lupin continued, "Even though I know you're perfectly capable of protecting yourself, I'll impose upon it from time to time, to ease your burden."
A grin on Lupin's face, for a moment, erased the glare from Harry.
"I'll check in on Ron, and take off myself," Lupin said, "Take care."
"Ta," Harry grumbled.
Lupin crossed the basement. Harry stared at the circuit board on the desk, while mulling it over in his head. Harry breathed, sighed as fur brushed against his feet, again. Harry went across, climbed the stairs himself.
"You certainly soft–peddled that Ron was unconscious," Kristen said to Harry, "Bit more serious than 'under the weather', wouldn't you agree?"
Harry read the danger behind her eyes, stopped in his path.
"I…" Harry said, his mind going into overdrive to dance around the web that's been woven. "Things have gotten complicated, cause you're right, our troubles at school would be a good spot to start your investigation, but to disclose would get me into further trouble."
"That's not an answer," Kristen said.
"Other students beat Ron up," Harry said, "Others chased us out of the Hospital and we didn't want to move him more than we had to. Therefore, Madam Pomfrey's been coming here to treat him."
"I'd like a list of names," Kristen said, "Of these others that beat him up, and chased you out."
"As far as I could tell, they wore masks," Harry said, "Talk to our Headmaster, he might know more, and knows the laws better."
"Will he be one of the party coming through?" Kristen asked.
Her eyes on him, mostly on his face with those bottle green eyes studying her back.
"Dunno, maybe?" Harry said.
"Wish you'd be more open and forthright," Kristen said, as her blue sweatpants covered legs shifted beneath her, "I can lend assistance—"
"I'd love nothing more," Harry said, "However, I can't—even what I've said already could land me in trouble, sorry."
"I'd love a peek at—" Kristen started.
"Sorry," Harry said before he lied, yet again, as his hand moved to rub at his scar, "Need to shower."
Harry went for the stairs, climbed up, and entered Gia's bedroom. He heard the voices, tried to ignore it, tune it out. Hermione was still on the bed, her eyes on the Daily Prophet, while Ron's hand was idle in her lap. Hermione folded one of the pages to the paper, handed it to Harry, the one with his implants fully described.
"I've got them already," Harry said.
"You need to know what they expect to see," Hermione said, "After all, you're not supposed to still have your original equipment. Don't want anybody getting wiser about you dodging the entire procedure!"
"I wouldn't call it dodging—that curse hurt," Harry said, "I don't need to re–read about it!"
Harry sighed, the voice became loud behind the pain of his scar, his hand moved to hold that.
"Know it was revenge that Mr. Patil wanted," Hermione said, "It was about shame and humiliation. Given a choice, think you'd still go through to keep future victims from experiencing what Parvati did."
Words became intelligible, of Wormtail talking to Voldemort.
"Master, only a matter of time," Wormtail said, "Potter will become weak."
"It was done?" Voldemort asked.
"He was afraid it's arouse suspicion if it were immediate," Wormtail said, "A week, maybe three, before they began to leech, a small dose at first so the old fool will be too preoccupied to realize what's happening, ever increasing, and it'll weaken the boy."
"I said I was to take him down," Voldemort said.
"Others have grievances with Potter and are assisting," Wormtail said, "This'll make it easier for the hunt, which we reserve for you."
Voldemort laughed.
"Who made them?" Harry asked, his hand on his scar, "The implants?"
"Supplied by the Ministry," Hermione said, "Why? Your scar?"
"Wormtail telling Voldemort," Harry said, "An extra surprise—" he tossed the newsprint to the side, "Poison by the sound of it, designed to seep out, and I'm guessing it's not for my health and well being."
Hermione's brown eyes focused on him.
"Not at a good time, not for us," Hermione said, "You have to write—"
"NO!" Harry said, "I wouldn't be able to keep Madam Pomfrey away, they'd learn the truth, and be obligated to 'fix' it, AGAIN!"
Harry laid down on the bed, legs over the foot of it.
"We got them out, that's what matters," Harry said, "It needs to remain between us… pretend, forget that you ever did it, as far as you're concerned, the implants are still there, fully operational."
"I'm seeing evidence that contradicts—" Hermione started.
"Okay, maybe defective," Harry said, "As far as I could tell, from that is it's like having the real things, minus the fun stuff."
"You—" Hermione said.
"Anything else of interest in there?" Harry asked, wanting to change the topic, .
"Apparently, they love you," Hermione said, "Guess Dumbledore was busy yesterday, the board of governors called that emergency meeting yesterday after a riot."
"Riot?" Harry asked.
"Students wanted more of you around the castle," Hermione said.
Harry heard the lie, knew the truth.
"Ha, ha," Harry grumbled.
"Letters to the editor make it clear we're still to blame for Diggle's and Finch–Fletchley's deaths," Hermione said, "Encouraging people to letter write to Kristen."
"They're sending her howlers," Harry said.
"Some were disappointed they stopped at castration," Hermione said, "Felt it should've continued with you getting drawn and quartered."
"Guess that'd hurt a bit more, too," Harry grumbled. His left finger went up the center of his chest, before it crossed beneath the ribs. His imagination was enough.
"Ban of St. Mungo's was extended to all magical clinics," Hermione said, "As to Diagon Alley—forget about it anytime soon."
"We'll get back there," Harry said, "If nothing else, you'll need more parchment."
"I'm sure Professor McGonagall would work with us there," Hermione said.
"What else?" Harry asked.
"An 'EM'," Hermione said, "Inquiring to your faithful patronage of Gringotts."
"Who the heck are they?" Harry asked.
"Ministry not only refuses to investigate, they've called it a proactive citizen cleanup effort," Hermione said, "I wonder…" she flipped the pages.
Harry flung his wand, a metal dart embedded itself into the plaster above them.
"Yep," Hermione said, "This EM's taken credit for the riots, beating up Ron, and chasing us out of St. Mungo's. Somehow, I doubt the Ministry's going to investigate them."
"You'd think investigating real Dark Wizards would be important!" Harry grumbled.
"Disinformation," Hermione said, "We know Voldemort's got somebody in the Ministry, and they're obviously taking advantage of a Minister paranoid about the Dark Arts. Guess it's easier to bury the messenger that Voldemort is still around. You're it, and a reminder of the truth."
"Can't I be allowed to grow up?!" Harry complained, realized even times with the Dursleys were much simpler. An overwhelming urge filled him, an urge to return the calendar back to that time.
"Voldemort doesn't want you to," Hermione said.
"It's still…" Harry glared at the metal dart still embedded in the plaster ceiling, it exploded into sparks, showered down onto the bed, where Ron remained idle beneath the duvet, unaware. Pigwidgeon fluttered on the perch, and Hedwig's wings came out.
Hoot!
Hedwig hopped over to Harry, nipped at her ear.
"Go downstairs!" Harry snapped.
Hedwig's eyes went wide, flew over to the window, and tapped. Hermione pointed her wand, the window opened long enough for both birds to make their escape, and flew out.
"She's mad!" Harry exclaimed.
"And so are you!" Hermione said as she stood. "While you've got every right to be mad, she's sensitive to it."
Hermione handed Harry his Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6.
"Get Flying with the Canons, please?" Harry asked.
"You need to study," Hermione said, "Voldemort has, and so should you."
"Gah!" Harry grumbled, he wanted to have some fun, preferably with Ron.
Hermione bent over, began to rearrange the books on the shelves.
"I won't be able to find a thing," Harry said.
"If Lupin can see these handbooks all neatly arranged in a row, so can others," Hermione said, "They're not something you'd find in Flourish and Blott's."
"Guess not," Harry grumbled.
Hermione opened Ministry Penal Devices, began to read it aloud.
"Want this?" Hermione said, "It's a spiked collar consisting of—"
"Don't give them ideas!" Harry snapped.
Harry scrambled off the bed, grabbed the book, shoved it into his book–bag, and left the bedroom.
Dumbledore wrote with the quill in his hand, listened to the wireless.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
"For those tuning in," said Bert, the commentator for Wizarding Sports Network, "Enchanted Knitting Needle Hour is not happening this week, so we can bring you the match between Puddlemere United and the Appleby Arrows."
"Not sure if I should be happy or sad," said Dumbledore as McGonagall entered the office, "How did your trip go?"
"I got the supplies," McGonagall said, "Had to make an excuse, but that's not the disconcerting part. I think I was followed."
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows as he studied her wire frame glasses, the emerald green robes below, a tad curious about whether she was wearing the socks he'd knitted for her.
"For groups—they're making themselves known and aren't hiding," McGonagall said, "Yellow jackets—same as we've seen here. They were watching me shop on Diagon Alley. I spoke to Fred Weasley, he's seen the same, said they were around when he spoke to Doris Crockford. Fred hopes the disillusionment charm worked to cover his tracks while ferrying the goods from her shop into theirs, a good will gesture."
"I would hazard a guess this yellow is the EM group that have been staking claim to incidents against Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, "As we've seen students flaunting their wares, I suggest some inquiries."
"Mr. Finnigan's become rather hostile," McGonagall said.
"Still, he has the right to an education," Dumbledore said, "So ordered by the board of governors."
"They've never overriden an expulsion order before!" McGonagall said.
"Unfortunately, we've been dealing with a lot of firsts as of late," Dumbledore said, "I do not expect that to abate any time soon."
Early that afternoon, as the light outside was already deep into sunset around five, Harry was halfway through another Charms essay, when multicolored light of fireworks exploding above his head cast deep shadows. Harry glanced up at Fred, standing there. George entered the dining room to stand behind Fred. Both twins were in matching Puddlemere United jackets.
"It's a MUGGLE house!" Harry said, "Emphasis on MUGGLES—their Dad's a firefighter and their mother's a cop."
"Had to practice before we entertained our brother," George said.
"Upstairs," Harry said, "Hasn't gone anywhere for a bit, and he's lucky Hermione's managed to charm the bedpan, else we'd kick him out…" Harry spotted the lack of grin. "Sorry, poor taste."
"Requires practice on the delivery," Fred said.
Harry spotted the compassion behind those eyes, a willingness to forgive over pressing charges.
"Show us the way or do we have to guess?" George asked.
"A moment," Harry said. He put the quill to the side and got up.
"How'd you find this place?" George asked.
"Long story," Harry said, though he paused long enough in the living room to notice the cars gone, "Upstairs."
Harry climbed the stairs, and came to a crowd of shoulders blocking the doorway into Gia's bedroom.
"Shall we draw up tickets and use a stopwatch?" Harry shouted.
Shoulders moved enough for Harry to slip in and stand in the doorway. Professor Dumbledore was there, along with Ginny and Madam Pomfrey. Madam Pomfrey's wand going over Ron as she checked him over.
"Nice decorations," Fred said, pointed at the Puddlemere United robes nailed to the back wall.
"It's my bedroom!" Gia stated, from the landing.
"And my brother?" Ginny asked.
"I do not see what all this fuss is about," Madam Pomfrey said, "As I told them earlier, he's stable and should pull out—"
"You knew?" Ginny demanded of Harry, her long flowing red hair over her shoulders and scarlet red Gryffindor T–shirt.
"Do I look like an owl?" Harry asked, taking the glare that showed the concern and anger behind those eyes.
"Thought I'd come and see…" said Professor McGonagall, as she came up the stairs to a halt on the landing.
"Room's a bit cramped," Gia said.
"Easily fixed," Professor McGonagall said as she removed her wand from her emerald green robes..
A flick of Professor McGonagall's wand, the room expanded, doubled in size, allowing for everybody to come in.
"Need I remind you it's a muggle house?" Lupin asked as he came up the stairs, entered.
"Join the crowd," Harry stated, arms crossed. Harry's eyes turned back to Madam Pomfrey changing the EverDrip IV patch, for a moment.
"I apologize Mr. Potter," said Professor Dumbledore, "I should've scheduled this. Apparently we all had the same idea, pop over for a visit before…nevermind."
Harry caught the glance to Professor McGonagall, and Harry turned his attention to her, wondered if it was a date.
"With Ronald being here—" Professor Dumbledore continued.
"Why isn't he in the Hospital Wing?" Charlie demanded as he came in, Edward in his arms, for a moment.
Edward wrestled, and Charlie let him down onto the bed.
"That is out of the question," said Professor McGonagall, "This EM, whoever they are, are the ones who claimed credit for attacking him in the first place, and expelling him from St. Mungo's. They have made threats promising blood if Mr. Potter or Mr. Weasley so much as set foot in the Hospital Wing. Students, who're not hiding their association, violated the Trophy Room, smashing and defacing anything bearing their names. Any pictures or posters, aside from the Wanted, have been similarly destroyed."
"Raided my trunk," Ginny said, "Destroyed theirs. I've received…threatening notes. Seems body armor might be a wise investment after all."
"Graffiti on Hagrid's door," Professor McGonagall said, "Their wrath is directed at anybody they consider a Potter sympathizer. At least they're leaving their signature with each act, which should make it easier to catch them, however, a majority of the students are in on it. Even the ones we do catch in the act, like Mr. Finnigan, punishments get overriden by the board of governors, directing blame at us for our supposed inaction with Mr. Potter."
"That's—" Harry grumbled.
"Unfair, I know," Professor McGonagall said, "Even some members of staff are sympathetic to the students' cause. House prefects, with only a couple of exceptions—" Her eyes turned to Ginny. "Are in on this, refusing to divulge anything of use."
"I didn't realize how bad it had gotten," Harry quipped.
"Don't blame yourself," Professor McGonagall said, "Peer pressure being brought to bear on those believing you…afraid some will break to it."
"Peer pressure features a lot during these times," said Lupin.
"Need some fireworks?" Fred asked.
"No," said Charlie, wrangling Edward away from Madam Pomfrey.
"And?" Ginny asked.
"He's stable, and I'll be back in the morning," Madam Pomfrey said, "If you excuse me, got a Hospital Wing to protect."
"Ginerva has requested to stay the weekend," Dumbledore said.
"Um…sure," Harry said, ""There's a sofa downstairs…"
Those eyes of Ginny's glared at Harry.
"It's what's available," Harry said, arms still crossed.
"We'll be off," Dumbledore said to Harry.
Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Madam Pomfrey left the bedroom.
"Got dragons to tend," Charlie said, picking Edward up, "Take care Ginny."
Charlie left.
"Got a shop," Fred and George said as they left.
"If you're suspended on Monday, we'll talk," Lupin said, "If not, it's that time of the month."
"Understood," Harry said.
Lupin disapparated, and the bedroom returned to its usual on the stairs, multiple sets.
"Who are all these…REDHEADS?!" Andy stammered, on the stairs.
"Family of the friend of the fiancee to the girl with title to the guest bedroom Dimwit," Richard said, two steps behind on the stairs. Jen followed Richard, a step behind and loosening her jacket.
"Seems simple enough," Jen said as she pulled down the zipper. She followed Richard into his bedroom, closed the door.
"Ant needs a friend," Harry whispered to Ginny, he pointed toward the bedroom painted in green, "One bedroom away from Ron."
Ginny left Gia's bedroom, turned toward Andy's.
"Hi," Ginny said to Andy.
"And you are—?" Andy asked.
"Ginny," Ginny said as she stepped between the strings of multi–colored beads pretending to be a door, "Brother to the friend—enough with that."
Harry glanced at the landing, neither Hermione nor Gia were there, he leaned over Ron, pried the lids open enough to see into those blue eyes.
"Had to set them up?" Ron quipped, "Know the mischief they'll cause?"
"Ain't kidding," Harry replied, "Ant does need a friend, a good friend, a Weasley—they're similar age, maybe it'll work?"
"I'll tell my Mum," Ron implied.
"What?" Harry snapped, "Don't!"
"It'd be so easy to see her," Ron quipped, "Minutes away—"
"No!" Harry pleaded, "I wagered—"
"Poor bet," Ron replied.
"Leaving me to face Hermione…alone?" Harry thought, "How could you do that to me?"
Ron's chuckling came through.
"HARRY!" came the shout.
Harry was shaken by Hermione, he was already on the bed, her brown eyes on him.
"What?" Harry stammered.
"You're convulsing, both of you," Hermione said, "Hedwig's already left."
"Hermione," Harry grumbled, glanced at Ron.
"Did you do anything?" Hermione asked.
"No," Harry lied as he stood.
Harry glanced at Ron's open blue eyes.
"Don't give up," Harry quipped, "Your Mum will be there—later, I need you to stay."
"Suppose…don't make me regret this," Ron replied, "Lemme sleep."
"I came as quick as I could," Madam Pomfrey said as she entered the bedroom.
"Harry, out," Hermione said, "Unless you want her wand turned on you."
Ron's eyes shuttered again before Madam Pomfrey brought her wand to him. Harry left the bedroom, went back down the stairs. Once again, Harry sat on a chair in the dining room. Harry pulled the light brown outback hat out of his book bag, and the Advanced Legilimency.
"Any hints to where I'd find out more on this—Katra Effect?" Harry asked as he thumbed through the book.
"You're hoping for more information Potter?" the Sorting Hat replied, "What do you think is happening?"
"Hoping I talked Ron into staying around," Harry said.
Harry realized he was scared, the fear real, of losing Ron.
"What are you not telling me?" Hermione demanded as she entered the dining room, her brown eyes fixed on Harry.
Harry pulled Quidditch Though the Ages over the other book.
"I'm doing essays?" Harry replied.
"You're lying," Hermione said, leaning over the table, "Level with me, Harry. Madam Pomfrey assured me Ron's the same as before—what did you do?"
"It's…" Harry stopped, he didn't want to disclose it all. "Not now, hope I persuaded him not to give up."
"Cause comatose people are really the talkative type," Hermione said.
"Ron simply needs to listen," Harry said, "He can do that."
"Right," Hermione said as she smacked her lips, "Wish you'd trust me."
"It's fucking long to explain, not now," Harry grumbled, "I need to study."
"Fine," Hermione said, "I'll watch you study."
Harry pulled the Charms book back out, began to read, and grabbed his quill. He studied late into the evening with Hermione on the other side of the table.
A mask of white beneath a hood of black, around a slender feminine body, illuminated by the fire.
"Walden's persuaded," the figure said, "Weeding can be postponed—"
"No names!" Voldemort shouted, "Crucio!"
Laughter as the witch cackled.
"Bit more on the spine?" the figure asked.
"Crucio!" Voldemort said, wand aimed.
She shook, trembled.
"HARRY!" came the shout.
Harry woke Saturday morning, Ginny stood over him. Harry was leaning against Ron on the bed, the blanket and comforter gone.
"What are you doing?" Ginny asked.
"Maybe it'll help Ron," Harry quipped.
Ginny snorted as Harry stood.
"And you wet the bed," Ginny said.
"I KNOW!" Harry snapped.
"I thought Hermione falling for my brother weird enough," Ginny said.
"He's…" Harry started.
Red hair, the partially fluttered eyelids over the blues beneath. Harry knew this was his friend at his most helpless moment, entrusted to them.
"Madam Pomfrey," said Gia as she opened the bedroom door.
"Good morning Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey said, in her robes of white. She brought out a vial. "Luckily Fawkes cried a bit last night."
"It's not that serious anymore?" Harry asked, arms crossed.
"Humor me Doctor Potter and let me pretend to be the healer around here," Madam Pomfrey said, dripping the drops between Ron's lips. "I'll give him every advantage I can give him."
"Thank you," Harry said.
"Can we wake him?" Ginny asked.
"Give him another day," Madam Pomfrey said, "You know how reckless they can be."
Ginny snorted.
"I'll likely need the rest of this for the match," Madam Pomfrey said as she secured the vial.
"It's not involving Gryffindor," Ginny said, "I'd attend—except—"
"Same year as your mother," Madam Pomfrey said to Ginny, "I know you're making the right choice."
Ginny smiled.
"And I'm a bit curious," Madam Pomfrey said as her eyes went to Harry, "How long have you lived here?"
"Since summer," Harry said, "Often been here when attacks were going on back at school."
"So, it's true?" Madam Pomfrey asked.
"Polyjuice is my guess," Harry said, "I was locked up in Professor McGonagall's office when they raped Parvati, in my likeness."
"My goodness," Madam Pomfrey said.
"I haven't figured out how they keep getting my hair, or whatever," Harry said, "But they are."
"My apologize for my actions," Madam Pomfrey said.
"I forgave you," Harry said, "However, your wand's still to remain away from me."
"Regret your choice, but I understand the sentiment," Madam Pomfrey said, "I need to get moving."
"Ta," Harry said.
"Good day," Madam Pomfrey said, "See you tonight."
Madam Pomfrey left.
"You've been…commuting?" Ginny asked Harry.
"Yeah," Harry said, "Every single day."
"Explains…a lot," Ginny said.
"And still needs to be kept a secret," Harry said, "Those Death Eaters impostoring me, realize what they'd do if they KNEW?"
"SHIT," Ginny exclaimed.
"Yeah," Harry said, "It's safe here as long as they're not hanging around."
"Sorry I doubted…" Ginny said.
"Hey," Gia asked as she stepped in, "Breakfast?"
"Um…" Harry wanted the escape, went for clothes.
"Meant her," Gia said, "Girls only, so unless you want further surgery—"
"No," Harry said as he shook his head.
Ginny left. Harry sat back on the bed.
"Interesting…relationship," Charlie said as he entered the bedroom.
"It's FRIENDSHIP!" Harry protested.
"Charlie," Bill said, "How's your FRIENDSHIP with Adam going?"
"Lovely," Charlie said.
"It's in the paper," Harry said, "I'm certified not in the game."
"Of course not," Bill said, "So how is our brother?"
"Sleeping it off," Harry said, stepped off the bed, "Madam Pomfrey—"
"She wouldn't induce a coma unless it's serious," Charlie said, "It's now SATURDAY when he was knocked out days ago."
"He's breathing," Harry said, "Still taking dumps and pissing into the bedpan beneath him. So, he's alive, if that helps you."
"You're being—" Bill started.
"What else is there to say?" Harry said, "He's going to stay here until it goes either way. I ain't a healer."
Harry spotted Richard on the upper landing.
"Say," Harry said, "Stay with him, I want to get my morning run in."
"He doesn't need—" Bill started.
"He was attacked at Hogwarts," Harry said, "A place I'd always been told is the safest spot in the wizarding world, a place I've been attacked, assaulted, and castrated. Here isn't Hogwarts, a wizard or witch should always be nearby cause he's so…helpless now."
Harry realized the pity welled up within him.
"Where's Ginny?" Charlie asked.
"Girls wanted a girls only breakfast," Harry said, "I wasn't going to stop them."
"You've definitely been neutered," Bill said.
"Excuse me," Harry said, "Have fun with your brother. At least he's not talking back."
"Got us there," Charlie said.
Harry left the bedroom. Richard went down the steps with Harry, and they headed out the front door into the overcast morning.
"Tough not to notice all of Ron's family showing up," Richard said.
"They—" Harry started, "They no longer have a mother to fuss, guess they're being Weasleys."
Harry had no better explanation for it, he'd always been an outsider to that family, even though they certainly tried to make him feel otherwise. He did wonder about the girls, a bit, however, the running felt good.
Harry's right hand moved the quill in his hand as he continued to study at the dining table. Hermione's pages to the other side, tempted to take a peek with her out of the house with Gia.
"I'm here to see—" came Madam Pomfrey's voice.
He stood. Left foot onto the adjacent chair, a right foot to the wooden surface, Harry jumped over the table, landed on the other side, and ran through the living room, unsure if he actually bolted up the stairs, Harry was in Gia's bedroom before Madam Pomfrey entered.
"Interesting…timing," Ginny said.
Harry crossed his arms, leaned against the bookshelves, Hedwig's perch empty.
"Anything out of the ordinary?" Madam Pomfrey asked, her wand already going over Ron.
Ginny shook her head. Harry watched as Madam Pomfrey changed Ron's EverDrip IV patch.
"It'd be easier if he were awake to feed himself," Harry said.
"Know how many specialists I'm consulting?" Madam Pomfrey said.
"Um…no," Harry admitted.
"Plenty!" Madam Pomfrey said, "Of course, they'd love to see the patient in person, however—"
"It'd endanger—not happening," Harry said, "Not here."
"You see my dilemma," Madam Pomfrey said.
"Yeah," Harry grumbled before the thought came to him. "Blindfold them, bring them, and have them sleep on the sofa—"
"He's not the only one needing specialists," Madam Pomfrey said, working on Ron.
"Oh?" Harry asked.
"Quidditch," Madam Pomfrey said.
"Who won?" Ginny asked.
"Ravenclaw won the match," Madam Pomfrey said, "Both lost the subsequent fight."
For a fleeting moment, Harry regretted not showing up to watch, though he knew his presence would only have made matters worse.
"Thank you for doing what you can do," Harry said.
"Finally, a thank you," Madam Pomfrey said, "Pay is…it's not a profitable profession."
Harry kept watching her.
"I'll let you know in the morning," Madam Pomfrey said, "If the results are good, I expect to be waking him."
Harry spotted the sense of relief in Ginny's eyes, the same Harry began to feel.
"See you then," Harry said.
Madam Pomfrey left the bedroom.
"Finally," Ginny said.
Harry left the bedroom, returned to the dining room. Harry turned to his Transfiguration book, began to read.