To Ride the Carousel Again
Chapter 10
No money made, no rights to the characters.
JK Rowling owns them all.
Allies or Trouble?
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Approx. 6,000+ words.
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Harry was sitting in a small room adjacent to Mrs. Tonks office, nervously sipping tea. He was tired and out of sorts. His anxiety about this meeting had kept him from falling asleep, and when he finally had, a nightmare of him being back with the Dursleys had woken him up, and he wasn't even sure he had fallen asleep again, or merely occasionally lightly dozed.
At the appointed time, Remus Lupin entered her office through the door being held open by the elderly receptionist. Mrs. Tonks stood as the tall man walked forward into the room.
Harry was closely examining his not-yet/former teacher through a one-way magical window the solicitor had created in the wall. He looked mostly as Harry remembered. Tall, yet stooped, thick brown hair that was prematurely streaked with grey, with many small scars and knicks littering the visibly weathered skin on his face and neck. His brown robes were almost as shabby as they would be in a year, apparently, the goblins had not yet informed him of his inheritance from his parents' will. Still, his light brown, almost amber eyes showed his intelligence.
Harry had put some hard thought into how to approach his to-be/former professor. Despite having spent a lot of the second half of third year in Lupins' presence, the man had not been particularly forthcoming about his relationship to his parents. Only at the frantic near disaster that the capture and escape of Wormtail had produced, had Harry found out how close Remus Lupin and Sirius Black had been to James and Lily Potter.
That reluctance on Lupins' part to be more open to Harry that year now had the effect of making him more wary of the werewolf. The nagging feeling that the man had seemed to abandon his supposed friend Sirius, and been downright close-mouthed about Harry's family, meant his remembered interactions with Lupin now seemed 'off' to the time returned wizard.
All these thoughts had formed the way he had now chosen to deal with the Marauder. He was going to treat him as an unknown person who might have been close to his parents since he was mentioned in the will. And Harry had plans to make sure the scarred man could not reveal any of his secrets to Albus Fumbledork. His little farewell speech as he was leaving the castle almost two years from now showed a gratitude verging on worship of Fumbledork for the seven years of a Hogwarts education, and giving him the job of DADA professor in Harry's third year.
Harry's thoughts had wandered into the territory of wondering if the headmaster's manipulations in his life had included persuading Lupin to remain distant from Harry.
Harry remembered the unmitigated acceptance he had given to the man back then, happy with the dropped crumbs of knowledge about his parents
No longer.
First, Harry remembered how he had to ask him to teach him the spell that could save his soul from the dementors. Harry had realized a few days ago, how he had reduced himself to begging to be taught the Patronus spell by one of his father's supposed best friends.
Second, the information that Lupin had in fact killed him and Hermione was a big blot on his copybook. Forgetting to take his wolfsbane that night had turned the usual gentle soul into the slavering, killing monster feared in all of Britannia.
Among the after-effects of his journey to limbo?, to the almost afterlife?, was the memory of the pain felt as he was literally shredded by the werewolf's claws and teeth during his fifth death. After all, they had allowed him to keep all his memories.
He could only imagine the terror Hermione must have had as she died horribly also. Thankfully her memory of the rending teeth and claws must have been removed by Upper Management just as his had been when the werewolf had caught them the first time around.
Harry's memories of talking with Lupin had just about convinced him that the werewolf was a microcosm of Britannia wizardries near worship of the headmaster.
Harry almost snorted at the thought Lucius Malfoy was probably an exception to that constant adulation.
Small pleasantries were exchanged as tea was poured. Harry did not bother to hide a grin as Remus' eyes kept flicking around, trying to pry more information from any clues in the office.
Andromeda straightening up unobtrusively signaled that the polite preliminaries were over.
"Mr. Lupin, my client has need of a Facilitator. He also has need of a Seneschal of the Family and a tutor. I have been given your name as a friend of his parents."
Lupin obviously perked up when 'friend of the parents' was mentioned.
"Before I go any further, I will demand an Oath of Secrecy from you. My client insists on this as a pre-employment interview provision due to many people being much too interested in his activities. This oath will keep you from revealing your prospective employer is even looking for someone to fill these occupations. Unless he gives you explicit permission, you cannot even mention this job even to people you feel you can trust implicitly."
She then passed over a sheet of parchment with the Oath written upon it, which he quickly perused.
Seeing no trickery or vague entrapments in the Oath, the wizard carefully took his wand out of his robe, held it vertically before him, and stated his oath in a quiet, but steady, voice. A light blue glow from magic surrounded the wizard as the oath was acknowledged.
Mrs. Tonks then handed him a thin light brown folder.
Opening the folder, Lupin settled back in his chair to read the contents. The few sheets with his proposed duties were read in two minutes. The final parchment, which listed his salary, including his bed, board, a clothing allowance, and a monthly supply of wolfsbane, startled the older man, although he quickly brought his startlement under control.
"How in Merlin's name had the client known he was a werewolf?"
"I see that there are no names as to who my prospective employer would be?" Remus asked quietly. He was working hard to keep himself under control. Some stranger knew far more about him than he wanted anyone to know.
"That is correct," was the solicitor's reply. "As I stated earlier, the employer does not want it discussed freely that he is even looking for a Facilitator. So, oath first, then employer's identity."
Her face became very blank. "I will add that I believe he is not paranoid. There truly are people out to 'get him'."
That frank admission left the man blinking hard a couple of times. Again, an oath was read by the wizard and again acknowledged with a surrounding glow.
It was at this point the concealed door in the wall opened and in stepped Harry, who proceeded to walk slowly towards the stunned man.
"I believe we met a long time ago, although I don't remember it, Mr. Lupin. My name is Harry Potter, and I have seen you listed in my parent's wills as a friend of theirs."
The youngster had to fight to keep a huge smirk off his face at the sight of the slack-jawed, confounded, sagging-in-the-chair Marauder. As a prank he could never admit to, it was one worthy of his father.
As he sat down in the remaining chair, the shock he could still see resonating through the weres' mind made him decide to carry the conversation.
"As you have surmised, I am a rather paranoid individual. Explanations as to why will have to wait until later. What I am hiring you do are all those many things that a Head of House would normally perform if he were an adult."
At that point, Harry held up his hand and willed his Lord Potter ring into visibility. The startlement and confusion grew deeper on the face of the older man.
"No one is going to take me seriously right now." Harry waved his hand across his front. "I mean look at me. I'm short, scrawny, and know absolutely nothing about being a Lord, or how to act in the Wizen-maggot, 'gamete, or whatever."
He didn't see Madam Tonks smothering a grin at his faux pas.
Harry gave Lupin a moment to look closely at him before continuing.
"I guarantee you that there will be at least one politically powerful voice raised against me being emancipated due to my Head of House and Lord status. And others who will believe they could possibly end up as the controller of my future will probably pile on.
So, at a minimum, I need someone to arrange for me to take lordship lessons, and I need to do some important business in the muggle world. Are you familiar with being in the muggle world, Mr. Lupin? During some talk in the common room last year, it was brought up that werewolves find it almost impossible to work in the magical world due to the prejudice against them, and therefore have to take work away from the magical world."
Harry regarded him curiously. "Can you move freely in the muggle world?"
Remus John Lupin was still attempting to gather his scattered wits. Out of all he had planned, or even dreamed about how his first meeting with Harry would go, what was actually happening was beyond even the strangest scenario.
"Uh . . yes. I, uh . . . have held several jobs in the non-magical world."
"Very good," said Harry. "That was the answer expected given your furry situation. My mother's diary says that you were the most intelligent of my father's friends. I am hoping that means you will be able to serve as a tutor. Many subjects taught at Hogwarts are . . . not presented as well as the premier school of magic in Europe should be doing."
Harry found he was hoping his acting was creating the misdirection that his mother's grimoire was how he had found out about Lupin's "furry little problem".
With a slight body shiver, Harry shook off his moment of introspection. "How many days until you can start?"
"Um, Ha . . Lord Potter, do you truly understand the probable backlash that you will face when my 'furry situation' becomes public? And it will become glaringly public, as The Lord of a Most Ancient and Most Noble House employing a," his eyes cut over to Madam Tonks, "werewolf in almost any capacity will certainly be discovered if your enemies dig hard enough."
Harry shrugged. "Right now, I value two things. Loyalty to the Potter Family and work competence. Again, when can you start?
"Um . . the fifteenth."
"Excellent. I'll have Gringotts set up an account for you at Madame Malkin's. Make sure she sells you good quality or better clothes. You will be representing my house in public from now on. You will need to project my family's wealth and stature in magical Britannia. Dress to impress, and act as the deputized agent of the powerful Potter Family, and everyone will believe you belong.
However, no House crests are to be worn until further notice."
Madame Malkin's lips are not always sealed properly, and a reactivation of an almost dormant House would be great gossip material.
"Second, go to Gringotts and claim your bequest from my parents will."
Harry paused and looked thoughtful for a moment. "Contact Solicitor Tonks on the fifteenth and she will give you a letter with directions on how to get to my house. So, I will leave you to sign your contracts with her today, and I will see you then."
Harry stood and offered his hand. As a still bewildered Remus stood and shook his hand, Harry had one last thing to say.
"Mr. Lupin, pay particular attention to the clause that informs you that if you ever tell Albus Dumbledore or anyone who would carry word to him, as to where I am, or what I am doing, that mistake will result in the clause being activated. I do not care that you feel you owe him after he allowed you seven years of Hogwarts education. There will be no second chance. Good day, Mr. Lupin."
With that, Harry walked unhurriedly to the door and left the office, not seeing the shock on the old Marauder's face at the hostility towards Albus Dumbledore.
With his exit, Remus turned his stricken eyes upon Mrs. Tonks and asked, "Surely it cannot be that bad. Every time I tried to get him to let me see Harry, Albus said he was happy and well taken care of. The boy who just walked out of here is definitely not happy, looks malnourished, and certainly seems to have developed severe trust issues. What's happened to him?"
"Mr. Potter does not speak of his past situation. I can only guess, Mr. Lupin. And I do not like the directions my guesses have taken me. Now let's get your contract signed. My take on the situation is that young Lord Potter needs all the help he can get."
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Harry managed to exit the offices before stopping and leaning against the building to take deep shuddering breaths as he willed his nausea down. Again, he was exposing himself to discovery. Moony was a supposed friend and ally, but Harry felt in his soul that he needed all the time he could get to strengthen his position that as a Lord, he was an adult and not to be under anyone's guardianship.
Straightening himself up, he reminded himself that he was to have dinner at the Tonks' house tomorrow evening. Harry had attempted to politely decline the invitation, but Madam Tonks had trumped him by asking him when had he gotten his inoculations against the various wizard-specific diseases?
Dragon pox could still kill, and spattergroit could disfigure one's face for life.
Or had he been given a true physical examination before attending Hogwarts? In fact, were his muggle inoculations up to date?
Harry had given her a blank look.
"No? Well," she had stated, "isn't it fortunate that my husband is a Healer at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and can take care of all those items in the strictest confidence. After all, you do not want anyone to be able to claim your lack of medical care shows you to be incompetent and in need of a guardian."
"We will expect you at half six, casual muggle is the expected dress," she finished off in a no-nonsense, let the adults take care of this, tone of voice.
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It was a few minutes before six-thirty when Harry was ejected from the fireplace in the Tonks' parlour in a tumbling slide across their polished light wood floor. He lay there for a moment cursing magical travel. That trip had been worse than his messed up original diagonally floo trip to Borgin and Burkes's Shoppe of Many Horrors years ago. Or this summer, actually. Whatever. Maybe the fireplace at The Leakey Cauldron was at fault.
"Hmmm. I see we shall have to work on your floo arrival skills, Cousin Harry. Young Lords are expected to be competent in all forms of magical travel. Your lack of training is obvious."
Harry, who at that point was lying on his back, peered up at the upside-down solemn face of Andromeda who was womanfully almost suppressing the mirth shown in her eyes.
With a sigh and a groan, and a hand up from Mrs. Tonks, Harry gained his feet, which allowed her to quickly charm the ash from his clothing. Taking the open robe he was wearing over his black slacks and dark blue button-up shirt from him, she exited through the entrance archway just as a brown-haired, tall man with a smiling, open, pleasant face entered passing Andromeda.
Advancing on Harry, he extended his hand and introduced himself as, "Edward Tonks, Healer, and the husband of the finest solicitor of our time."
"Harry Potter, student, and friend of Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of our age," he replied, shaking the man's hand.
That answer took the male Tonks by surprise Harry noted before the man broke out into chuckles.
"Andi told me I was going to like you, Lord Potter," he said.
"Please, at the age of twelve, I find it both a mouthful and painful for everyone to keep using that title. Especially among family, or at least relations. Please, just call me Harry."
The older man looked thoughtfully at Harry. "And please call me Ted. Everyone else does."
He continued but raised his voice. "Dear, which one of your relatives makes young Harry part of the Black family?"
"His grandmother, Euphemia was a Black from the Cephus Black cadet branch before marrying Fleamont Potter," came the recognizable voice of Andromeda Tonks through an archway behind Ted. "Bring him into the dining room, please. Dinner is ready to be served."
The three of them sat at one end of the table for six. Ted sat at the head of the table with Andromeda to his right, and Harry on his left. Short snippets of work tales, or family foibles, and a few stories of their daughters' auror training, were told as Harry worked on decorously at eating as much of the delicious roast lamb, gravy, potatoes, parsnips, and peas with pearl onions, as he could without being a Dudley about it. Afters were scoops of gilderberry chocolate ice cream Mrs. Tonks had brought home from Fortescue's, drizzled with chocolate sauce.
Harry started to help with the clean-up as the meal ended. He was promptly scolded and informed invited guests were not expected to help with dinner. She chivvied him and Mr. Tonks out of the dining room back to the parlour. They there spent the next half hour apprising each other about Hogwarts classes and teachers they had or classes of years ago.
Harry found it interesting to see a bit of Hogwarts history from Ted's Hufflepuff perspective, and then fifteen minutes or so hearing about a Slytherin House, when Mrs. Tonks was a Hogwarts student. And while it had always been the house of ostentatious hauteur concerning ancestry, while she was there was when the house truly began its descent into PureBlood fanaticism, complete with the whispers of a rising Dark Lord.
Harry actually was sorry to have the talk end. He had been getting more and more nervous as he knew that when the conversation stopped, his physical exam would begin. Especially as he knew Healer Tonks was probably about to ask Harry questions he really did not want to answer.
Mrs. Tonks smiled at Harry in a way that signaled the end of the conversation.
"Since Ted here is a St. Mungo's healer, I'm sure you would want for him to examine you to make sure all your inoculations are up to date."
Harry for his part, didn't want Healer Tonks anywhere near him. He was so close to being free, the last thing he wanted was someone who, while trying to protect him, might get him entangled with 'The Authorities'.
"Step into my office, Harry," Healer Tonks said as he led him to a door just left of the front door. The doorway opened into a small-ish room with a desk against the lefthand wall, a cloth padded covered table opposite, and shelves with rows of potion vials sitting on them. The only two chairs in the room were the desk chair and a small armchair to the side of the desk.
The Healer turned towards Harry. "Please remove your clothes down to your undershorts. You can hang them there in the corner, and lie on the examining table on your back," he said while pointing to some wall hooks near the foot of the table.
As Harry made a reluctant start on disrobing, Ted made a show of sitting in his desk chair with his back to Harry fiddling with some parchment sheets.
At the moment, in his Healer Tonks mode, he was attempting to allay some of Harry's skittishness. He had carefully and discretely been closely watching the very young Lord Potter throughout dinner and the talk afterward. He was disturbed by what he had seen.
Young Harry had many of the hallmarks of a boy raised in an abusive home. Verbal and/or physical, was the only question left in the healers' mind.
Ted had been keeping an ear on Harry and when he heard him finish squirming around on the examination table, he stood and walked over to the boy.
"Malnutrition, that was obvious" he mused looking closely at the front of the recumbent boy's body. "Every rib and his shoulder bones are prominent. His hip bones protrude and his belly is shrunken. Some of those lumps showing on his ribs indicate badly healed cracks and breaks."
Feeling Harry's intense gaze on him, he looked him in the eyes and spoke. "Lord Potter, I am going to run a series of diagnostic tests. It will take a few minutes, and I will be using that Dicta-Quill there, to make a record for your medical file, a copy of which I will send to Madame Pomfrey so she knows if there is any continuing care she needs to follow up with for you."
"Hold still now," he finished, starting to wave his wand in intricate patterns over Harry's prone body starting at his feet and moving up.
All Harry could see were occasional, subdued soft lights that flickered over him. He saw Mr. Tonks pause and spend extra time along his right ankle, his left forearm, and on his forehead at his scar. He was growing more nervous at each pause.
He also repeated a series of complicated wand movements over his chest.
The ankle was the one that always ached since Aunt Marge's dog, Ripper, had leapt up and bit down on the ankle trying to pull the boy out of the small tree he was frantically climbing to escape the crazed bulldog that his sadistic owner doted on. Harry remembered hanging on for his life as that stupid dog had refused to let go for long, endless minutes.
The worst part of the whole episode had been that he couldn't even scream from the pain of the dog hanging by his teeth from his ankle. If he had drawn the attention of the neighbors, Vernon would have given him a hiding that would have hurt a lot worse.
His left arm had been broken when Uncle Vernon had twisted it while throwing him into his cupboard when he was eight. Harry still had no idea why he had been blamed for something that had happened at his office.
Harry thought little of the attention the Healer paid to his scar. After all, everybody paid attention to his scar. It never really bothered him, except as a constant reminder of his dead parents, and the fact that it burned and became so painful that he had nearly passed out when he had twice been near Voldemort in First year during Quirrell's possession, and months ago in the graveyard. Oh, yeah, dementors seemed to be drawn to his scar, too.
"Another story I'm am going to have to keep straight," he thought.
It seemed a lot longer than a few minutes when Ted said he was done and Harry could sit up. The healer stepped over to the roll of parchment the Dicta-Quill had been writing on and stared at it for several minutes.
"You can get dressed, Harry," he said absently over his shoulder.
"Reckon I'll start with the easy problems," Ted thought.
"I would have expected more scarring," the Healer mused. "Except for the obvious dog bite wounds on his leg, he has few abuse scar marks on his back or arms. His hands however . . ."
Remembering how the boy had leaped to perform the dining table cleanup, he spoke without looking at Harry again.
"Harry, what sort of chores did you do at your relatives' house?" "Always refer to them as 'relatives' Andi had said. He never, ever calls them family at our meetings."
"Um, I did cooking and cleaning and gardening mostly."
"Cooking. Did you do a lot of cooking"?
"Err, yeah. I started cooking breakfasts when I was six."
"Did the garden have lots of rose bushes?"
"Oh, yeah. Aunt Petunia always wanted her garden's roses to be the envy of the neighborhood."
"How long did you have a cast on your arm after it was broken?"
"Uhh, not very long," Harry said so quietly Ted barely heard him. The fact was, the Dursleys had never taken him to a hospital for any of his injuries.
The picture was in focus now. Verbal and mental abuse certainly. The physical abuse was a lot subtler. Ted was sure that the dog bite, the radially fractured arm, and the rib cracks and fractures were mostly accidental. Drink or temper probably. And could be explained away as accidents to any authorities.
The hands however said differently.
Ted was one of the rare St. Mungo's healers who would treat the muggleborn and squibs who worked in the few manual labor jobs the magical world still had.
And Harry's hands resembled theirs. Hard, calloused, with almost uncountable nicks, scars, and burn marks. In his case the obvious was magnified by what Ted was sure were at least a dozen bits or pieces of thorns or wood slivers still embedded under the skin.
The Healer sighed as he scrubbed a hand down his face. Looking at the sitting Harry squarely, he spoke. "Does your leg hurt all the time?"
Harry looked away with a quiet, "Yes."
"Alright, I can give you some potions that will repair the tissue damage, destroy some lingering infected abscesses, and give you exercises to strengthen the tendons that took damage. I'm surprised the muggle doctors didn't put some stitches in the larger skin rips and punctures."
Harry merely kept looking at his knees where they hung over the edge of the examining table, but his body was starting to tense like a long bow being drawn.
"Your arm I can fix with a Bone Mending potion, followed by a Bone Strengthening potion, and that should remove the pain from there also."
The slight relaxation and look of relief on the boy's face told him his diagnosis had been spot on.
"Your hands, I can do two things there for you. I have some skin healing salve that rubbing on your hands will make the scarring virtually disappear. Also, you have some foreign bits of plants under your skin and a couple of them are rubbing on some finger tendons.
Get the bits out, and another one of your sources of nagging pain will go away."
"As for your ribs, repairing them is going to be tricky, but doable. They will have to be carefully Vanished and regrown one at a time. We just can't disappear your rib cage in one go. It would kill you because your lungs would collapse.
But the good part is we can do that over a year, if not longer. No rush for them."
At this point, Ted stopped to re-order his thoughts.
"You have five further problems," he continued ignoring Harry's flinch. "And I believe two of them are or were affecting your health. First, you had a binding on your magic core restricting the amount of magical energy you could use for spells. It was a standard one-quarter restriction on your magical strength and it's fairly common. Parents often place one upon children that have large or destructive outbursts of accidental magic. However, another binding was placed only about four years ago and also was not removed when you started attending Hogwarts."
However, there is evidence that the original binding to your core was removed a few days ago. Can I assume you have felt an increase in your magical power? In your ability to cast spells easier?"
Harry sort of shrugged. He had been performing very little magic when not at the manor.
"However, that second binding placed upon you is a problem. A forty percent binding on your magical core. That is the one placed about four years ago."
Ted's mien turned thunderous. "Not releasing the bindings last year is not against the law, but it is against custom and would be considered a huge black mark against your guardians by society."
The healer took a moment to calm himself, Harry, on the other hand, was thinking that Upper Management was both wrong and right. Having his Lordship ring had removed the binding on his magical core as they had written, but there had been a second one not removed. Harry had an instant of wondering if that was why accepting the ring had been so painful. The ring had lost the power struggle with the second binding.
Ted was continuing on. "There is a second part to the second binding that is most unusual. It is a binding on your magic core restricting the amount of magical aether you can gather and I have never seen one personally before. It is a restriction on how fast you can refill your body's magical core. It's not only an unusual curse charm, it's regarded as a punishment to the child it is placed on because they are too powerful.
Again, it was also applied four years ago and not removed when you started attending Hogwarts. I've heard whispers of such a thing being placed upon younger sons who were suspected of being more powerful than an older heir. Some families are absolute nutters when it comes to who gets to ascend to the Head of the Family."
Harry froze in place as though petrified. He had to re-concentrate on Healer Tonks to keep from jumping down from the exam table to be able to pace.
"You also had a third binding on you that affected an area of your brain that is usually associated with some type of magical ability or family magic gift. It also was removed a few days ago."
"Fourth, your scar concerns me. It scans as an area of very dark magic, yet it doesn't read as curse residue, and that it still looks recent bothers me. It's almost as though it is a curse that didn't quickly affect you."
Harry could not help himself, and gave Ted a look of 'Are you kidding me? Everyone and his idiot relatives know how I got this scar.'
Ted snorted. "No, Harry," he said kindly. "You don't understand. You have the only scar from a supposed Killing Curse anyone has ever seen. Part of the curse's mystique is that it leaves no marks on the victim." Instant memory flashed through Harry as he remembered Cedric's face. It had had a horrified look upon it, but no marks.
"Has Madame Pomfrey talked to you about it? "
Harry shook his head mutely and watched as the Healer sat back in his chair and gazed at Harry's forehead with distracted interest. "I wonder if I could get a Cursebreaker to take a look at your forehead," he mused.
Harry again wondered if he could get Bill Weasley to keep his secrets. "Ron had bragged lots of times his oldest brother Bill was a Cursebreaker for Gringotts and had told a bunch of stories about the Weasley family's visit to see him in Egypt before Third year. Right, Scabbers . . ."
Hearing Healer Tonks speaking up again, Harry snapped his attention back to him.
"I can remove the first part of the remaining binding on your magical core tonight if you want, but you will have to promise not to use magic for two days. From the strength of your bound core, the release will leave your magic unstable and unreliable for at least that long. For example, if you try a shaving charm, you're liable to curse your face off."
"Your core refilling curse I would rather have removed by a senior curse specialist at St. Mungo's. As I said, I've never seen it before."
"Oh," Ted said snapping his fingers. "I got so distracted I almost forgot the two minor charms on you. One is a mail re-direct charm, and the other is a mild Avoid-Me charm.
The first is possibly a blessing as The-Boy-Who-Lived probably should receive more fan mail than Duran Duran."
Seeing Harry's utterly confused look, Ted sighed and said, "Have you ever gotten letters from fan girls, such as my daughter, on your birthday?"
The blank look from Harry was proof to the healer that the ward existed.
"The Avoid-Me Charm is a mild Notice-Me-Not Charm," Ted continued. "People see you, notice you, can even talk to you if sufficiently determined but are dissuaded from casually approaching you. Very obscure charm. It was applied some years ago, but refreshed last year. Not sure if it was ever considered 'in favor'."
Healer Tonks straightened up in his chair. "My professional recommendations are we remove the core binding tonight. I'll get someone to remove that vile core refill binding. I'll discretely check around for someone familiar with curse-breaking. The mail re-direct ward you might want to keep, and from what little that closed-mouth solicitor of yours has told me, we keep the avoidance charm. At least until school starts. Sound like a plan?"
Harry thought for several seconds before slowly nodding his head in agreement. "I think I know a cursebreaker who would work on my scar in secret. I'll talk with you about it later."
"Also, could you please give me my medical exam report? I promise to give it to Madame Pomfrey, but not as soon as we get to school."
"Hmm. I wonder if this is what Andi means. He sounds paranoid, but she understands why he acts that way."
"Very well," Healer Tonks said, nodding his head. "Let's get to business. First, you get to take this bunch of horrible tasting immunization potions against wizarding diseases, two shots against muggle diseases, then I'll remove those pesky thorn bits, and finally, we'll remove that remaining core binding."
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Harry was so worn out that he hardly remembered calling a Potter elf to him at the Leakey Cauldron after Mr. Tonks had side-apparated him to the dingy old pub.
With a small pop, Peama appeared before him and had him elf popped to Potter Manor before he said anything.
A swaying Harry was so exhausted he didn't object. Reaching into a robe pocket, Harry pulled out a small wooden box. A tap with his wand, and it enlarged.
"These are potions I am supposed to take. The green ones I take at breakfast and dinner. The purple, one is to be with my lunch. The red and sparkly red ones I have to drink for the next two days. They are to fix some old injuries I have. Place the lotions near my bed as I will use them before sleeping."
In spite of the early hour, Harry then proceeded to slowly climb the stairs and barely undress himself before collapsing into bed. Hand lotion would have to wait.
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A/N:
As a point, Healer Tonks did not find evidence of the Wit Dulling Potion or the Anti-Curiosity Charm because they were removed by a "god". No residue left.
Ten chapters and a very busy two weeks for Harry. Kind of boring for the rest of us, but Harry is busier than a one-armed wallpaper hanger.
I NEED SOME HELP. As was shown in Chapter 8, Harry has an inheritance, or stash, in the Mundane
World. My problem is I have a fair handle on how the US taxation would work on trying to access
and cash out such Long-Term Capital Gains inheritance. I DO NOT understand what the web is trying to tell me about such a scenario in 1990's England. (A Mundane Will? Taxed as an inheritance only?)
I am trying not to play the "Gringotts has so many ties to the Muggle banking world, they can literally ghost millions of pounds back to Gringotts" card. Without HM Revenue & Custom Service knowing a thing.