AN: I like having a lot of development and world-building so I can really shake things up in a single chapter. A lot of stuff gets revealed so sit back and grab the popcorn.
.o0O0o.
The kindly old grandfather of the wizarding world sent the shopkeepers of Diagon Alley fleeing from their early breakfasts in the Leaky Cauldron in something approaching a panic. It had long been Albus's custom to watch the Alley suddenly spring to life like the desert after a rare rain so they all knew what his arrival meant. This was why the Mailings had always been sent out at the same time, and never announced. The surprise was the best part.
Albus had to admit he did love this reaction though; it made him feel so important. To think that just his appearance so early in the morning so late in the summer could cause such a stir was almost enough to give one a big head. 'As if that would ever happen to someone like me,' the kindly and ever so humble Dumbledore thought to himself.
"I'm sorry, Tom," he said as he smiled to the hunch-backed, gap-toothed barman. "I seem to have cost you all of your patrons."
"That's alrigh'," Tom replied merrily and started to clear the plates with a wave of his wand. "They already paid."
After considering it for a moment, the merry old man thought as long as he was here it wouldn't hurt to have one of his few little indulgences.
"I don't suppose you happen to have Sticky Buns this morning, do you?" Albus asked.
"Only when I don't change me underwear," the barman quickly replied with his classic 'I got you' look on his face.
Albus had a good chuckle; the earthy barman's humor would never change.
"I'll bake some up fresh like," Tom said. "I take it today's the big day?"
"Oh yes. Today is a very big day," Albus said with more meaning than one in mind. He so loved wrapping everything up in one outing.
.o0O0o.
Lichfield stumbled as he was pushed out of the emerald flames. Catching himself on the rough wooden seats of the Leaky Cauldron, he felt a twinge in his hand as a splinter dug into his skin, adding extra flavor to his early morning grumble. It happened every time Lester tried to take a short cut and hop out of one of the Gringotts fires instead of his stated route but he couldn't help but check every once in a while.
As he drew his wand to extract the splinter he just knew that today was going to be a lousy day. Why the Ministry saw fit to restrict passage to and from Gringotts like they did, even for employees, he'd never know. It's not like they'd have an entire goblin army belch itself out of a fireplace, no matter how famous the kid who asked for one was.
How Legal could've lost that rental agreement after it took so long to write up, given the boy's particularly tricky legal standing, was enough to get his dander up. If it wasn't for the fact Barchoke had wanted heads on pikes, leaving him to run interference since beheadings wouldn't be doing Harry any favors, he would've felt free to vent his spleen on the issue. The new one should be done sometime today and he'd finally be able to put the kid's mind to rest. Merlin knew the kid needed a chance to be a kid when he could have it. What he'd learned of that kid's life was repellent.
The smell of Sticky Buns hung thick in the air causing his stomach to growl. His morning toast hadn't been enough after all. Maybe he'd call for Mipsy so she could make him a sandwich when he got to work. The elf would be so thrilled she'd probably be smiling and bouncing off the walls all day. He mentally corrected his schedule so he could stay late at work, leaving Mipsy free to go berserk in an overload of euphoric cleaning before he got back.
Lichfield wouldn't put it past her to fix his neighbor's large metal muggle contraption he'd broken last night when he'd gotten home. If that idiot didn't learn to stop blocking his stairway with that automocar there was going to be hell to pay.
"Ah, thank you, Tom. They smell wonderful."
The sound of a certain old man's voice drew the Litigator's eyes to him.
"I think I'll just take these at the little sitting area outside Florean's shop," the vicious old fraud said with a condescending smile. "Do you want me to send the plate back to you?"
Lester didn't stick around to hear any more of the old man's prattling, instead striding purposely towards the Alley proper. 'Of course it just had to come down to an old man race,' Lichfield thought to himself as he stole the better start and opened up a lead, leaving a string of muttered curses behind him like he was an automocar himself.
As he hit the alleyway he paused only a moment to shake his head at the brilliant green sign now decorating the front of the shoemaker's shop. 'Come See Harry Potter's Shoes!' it proclaimed. He was sure it would cause as much of a stir as the new broomstick at Quality Quidditch Supplies.
Muttering about the anti-Apparition field enshrining the Alley, he put one foot in front of the other as he made his way forward, each step coming faster than the one before. Before he was even two shops along Lichfield was running. No old man was going to out old man him because he was a grumpy old man, damn it, and he needed all hands on deck. He'd have to call Mipsy after all.
.o0O0o.
Harry tossed and turned as the sun started peeking above the horizon before he got up to pace again. The last day or so hadn't been so pleasant for him. It had basically been waiting for the hammer to fall and filling the time however he could.
He quickly found he couldn't keep his mind on studying without subjecting what he was looking at to the 'would this be any good against Dumbledore' test, which nothing seemed able to pass. Quidditch and chess had been victims of it too, though he made sure his broom never left the side of his open bedroom window, just in case he had to make a mad dash for freedom.
Even writing to Hermione had been short-changed. When she wrote to inquire why she hadn't heard anything from him that day and ask if anything was wrong he had sent back a response which probably did more harm than good. Now that he thought about it, how exactly was she supposed to handle a letter that said, 'Whatever's going to happen will happen soon. I may be able to tell you everything this weekend. I hope I can see you again' and not be worried? Though Hermione had said she understood she did close with: 'And don't you think for one minute I'm not going mad with worry over here and won't demand every minute detail when you're able to explain.'
After his sudden departure from supper the night before, a breakfast he'd hardly picked at, and an hour spent staring off into the distance rather than watching Fred and George put Ron through some Keeper drills, Mrs. Weasley had finally stopped by to make sure everything was alright. That almost had him spilling the beans about everything. The only reason he didn't was because it would've been a really sorry way to repay the hospitality he had already felt bad for imposing upon.
The only person who looked gloomier than he did was Ginny. Harry didn't really know what was going on with the girl and he had given up even trying to care. While he could sympathize with not having any friends, since both he and Hermione had gone through something similar, this was something else and whatever it was it was starting to creep him out a bit.
He hoped once school started they could disappear into their own little groups and not have to deal with each other until Christmas at least. Maybe by then she'd have made friends of her own and snapped out of it.
When he thought back on his week at the Burrow, he didn't particularly like what he saw. While he loved spending time getting to know Hermione, he had spent way too much time away from the family who had welcomed him in and really hadn't done anything to show he appreciated it. Helping de-gnome the garden didn't really count in his mind since the little potato-headed creatures seemed to love it so much.
If this was going to be his last day at the Burrow, Harry didn't want to be remembered as this sullen little kid who had shown up unannounced, imposed on them from the first minute he was there, and didn't show any gratitude for being invited in the first place. He should do something for them, Harry decided. Having been unable to sleep at all last night may have had him see the sun rise, but it also had him up before anyone else, even Mrs. Weasley.
Harry smiled. He knew exactly what he was going to do.
.o0O0o.
Albus looked curiously at a handle that refused to move. The large bronze door would not budge, even trying his keys didn't work. He wondered what could possibly be going on. This was most inhospitable, even for goblins.
"Is there something I can do for you, sir?" came a goblin voice from behind him.
The kindly old grandfather of the wizarding world turned to see a courteous goblin in a finely cut suit. Though it was somewhat odd to see any goblin aside from the occasional guard with a shaven head, the wizard in swirling purple robes with silver moons cast the eccentricity aside, goblins were an odd people.
"I seem to have found my way barred," Albus said sadly. "Perhaps you could help me through? I have business to attend to."
"Of course, there are additional security concerns to take care of first, however," the goblin said, gesturing to a nearby desk. "I take it you haven't been here since the first of the month?"
"I've been away," Albus said nebulously as he followed the goblin and took the proffered seat near the desk. "I trust this will not take too much time? I have other business to be about as well."
"No, no," the goblin said pulling out a set of writing implements. "It should take no time at all. We just need to do a simple account and identity verification."
"Verification?" Albus asked curiously; surely everyone knew who he was. "Is all that really necessary?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
"Unfortunately, yes," the goblin explained. "There was a regrettable incident which left one of our most prestigious Financial Managers permanently unable to return to work and his accounts have had to be reassigned accordingly. These new measures are here for your protection and ensure account holder security. It wouldn't do to for someone to access an account unlawfully during this rather sensitive time."
"Ah," Albus said jovially, "of course, of course. I can respect your commitment to your legal obligations, mister–?"
"Barchoke," the goblin smiled.
"–Mister Barchoke," Albus continued, "having written quite a few of our bylaws myself."
"It's really quite simple, Mr. Dumbledore," Mr. Barchoke said as he pointed to the quills. "This is a Blood Quill and this one's a Truth Quill. All we require is a quick scratch from one, a statement outlining where your authority to access the account in question comes from with the other, and your magical signature added at the end."
The kindly old man tried to hide his distaste at having to surrender his blood. He had never liked trafficking in blood, most unclean, if not bordering on Dark, no matter what anyone said. Indeed, many years ago he'd had to outline the acceptable uses of dragon's blood, lest the child-like masses be led astray by the power such substances contained.
All that accomplished for his two accounts, Albus moved to stand.
"Just a moment, Mr. Dumbledore," Mr. Barchoke said, reviewing the vellum slips in front of him. "I'll need the Keys for the accounts for our verification process as well. And you have the Ministerial document that backs up this claim?" the goblin asked pointing to one part in particular.
"Ah, yes. I have them just here," Albus said as he reached into his robes.
The goblin seemed to tense for a moment and out of the corner of his eye he saw a set of scarlet and gold Gringotts guards begin to move.
.o0O0o.
Molly Weasley waited impatiently while her daughter got ready. She'd seen her daughter change dramatically in the last week in ways she certainly didn't approve. Ginny had gone from starry-eyed wonder just shy of outright devotion to just the idea of Harry Potter to distressed antipathy to the very real young man who had arrived before taking a detour through pining for what she had "lost" before "catching a case of the sullens" (as her own mother had called it) when it came out the real Harry had already found himself a girlfriend.
It was well beyond time for them to sit down and hammer this out once and for all. Though she loved the home she and Arthur had made at the Burrow in the last twenty five years with all her heart there remained one real downside to it – now that the children were older there was always someone lingering about to the point where outside the school year it was almost impossible to have a private conversation without being overheard. This need for privacy was what had Molly dragging her young daughter out of bed before the sun was fully above the horizon.
"Come along," she chided as her daughter emerged with her bathrobe wrapped around her sleeping clothes. Where once the girl had worn it because it made her comfortable, it seemed she wore it now out of some sense of mourning.
She led her downstairs to be further from the sleeping others and tried to come up with what to say. Only once had she ever seen such absolute foolishness in a girl before and there was no way that she was going to let her daughter go down a road that'd see her have to withdraw from Hogwarts before she'd taken her O.W.L.s because she had been found to be in the family way like that one had.
The girl had disappeared almost entirely after that, and the boy joined her soon afterwards. She saw them occasionally in Diagon Alley but never acknowledged ever knowing her. She wasn't going to let that happen to her daughter. Red hair was the closest any Weasley would ever come to being a Scarlet Woman. This was going to be taken care of one way or another.
.o0O0o.
It had taken Harry some time to figure out how to turn on a magical stove and even longer to find where Mrs. Weasley kept the food. In the end he had to resort to poking things with his wand. He didn't think it counted as magic though, or at least not something Mrs. Weasley would get mad at him for, considering he was doing this for her.
He was already well into cooking breakfast when he heard it, a soft pop! behind him and turned to see what it was.
"Mister Hairy Pots-sir?" a curious little elf with big brown eyes asked. It was carrying a large bundle of papers and Harry thought it was female.
"Er – Hello," Harry greeted the elf, cautiously wondering if this visit by an elf would be just as interesting as the last one was.
"Mister Lichy says yous be needing this," the little elf said, offering the bundle of papers to him.
'The rental agreement!' the Harry part of him cried and threatened to make him break out in a celebratory jig. He tried to keep his eager anticipation under wraps but couldn't help but to give a relieved smile.
"Thank you, um–"
"I be Mipsy, sir," the elf answered his unasked question.
"Well thank you very much, Mipsy," Harry smiled. "And thank Lichfield for me too, will you?"
Mipsy beamed and gave him a cute little curtsy, as if the repurposed striped pillowcase she was wearing were some sort of dress.
"Oh!" she cried, her big eyes bulging. "Mister Lichy say to give you this," she said as she reached down the neck hole into her makeshift dress and pulled out a scrap of parchment to hand to him.
"Bye, Mister Hairy Pots-sir!" she said with a wave before she disappeared with a pop!
'A little strange,' Harry thought to himself. 'But nobody beats Dobby.'
Harry looked at the scrap of parchment and a lead weight settled in his stomach. All it said was 'NOW!' He felt cold as he realized it could only mean one thing: Dumbledore was on the move and he'd be here soon.
Lichfield was certainly cutting it very thin. Harry could only hope he could talk his way into getting the Weasleys to sign before the headmaster got here and that Lichfield was as good at delaying people as he was at delaying deliveries.
The bacon started to sizzle on the stove as he heard someone on the stairs. Harry stashed the rental agreement into a nearby drawer full of odds and ends until the time was right.
"Ginny, I just don't know what's going on inside that head of yours," Mrs. Weasley said. "First you're ready to follow him into matrimony, then you say you don't care, and now you sulk around all day. Do you suddenly want him again or do you just not want anyone else to have him just in case you change your mind later?" There was a slight pause before she continued, "Do you smell bacon?"
"Good morning, Mrs. Weasley," he called from the kitchen. Short quick steps sounded on the stairs as Mrs. Weasley looked curiously into the room.
"Harry? What on earth are you doing?" she asked as if puzzled why any man would be in a kitchen, much less hers. "If you were hungry I could have made you something."
"Oh, no, Mrs. Weasley, this is for you," Harry said as he fixed her a plate. "You've made me feel so much at home this last week that I wanted to show my appreciation."
He set the set the simple meal of eggs, toast, and bacon down on the kitchen table along with a glass of milk before pulling the seat out for her. She looked at him with her mouth partially open, as if she had never seen such a mind-boggling thing in her life.
"Mrs. Weasley?" he said when she didn't move.
"Oh, um – Thank you," the kind woman said as she uncertainly took her seat. "You have to be the most curiously kind boy I've ever met. Hermione's lucky to have you."
He ran his hand through his hair embarrassed.
"Mmm!" Mrs. Weasley said in non-syllabic praise as she seemed to relish the rare moment of private pampering. "Harry, if I could I'd keep you."
This was his moment.
"Actually, Mrs. Weasley–," he began.
"Oh, please, Harry," she said as she dug in to the toast. "After a meal like this you can call me Molly."
"Er – right, er – Molly," Harry tried to continue, edging his way back to the drawer. "About what you said–"
With the worst of all possible timing a strange owl thought that particular moment was the perfect time to land on the windowsill and tap for entrance.
"Oh, that'll be your Hogwarts letters," Molly said as she left the table to open the window. "Boys! Ginny! Wake up and come get your letters!" she cried upstairs before carrying her plate to the kitchen to snack on as she began puttering around to make breakfast for the gang of Weasley children who'd soon groggily make their way downstairs.
'The perfect moment come and gone,' Harry thought as Ginny tried to slink into the dining room unnoticed. How was he supposed to bring it up in front of everyone now without seeming rude or ungrateful for what they'd already done? He began to feel the beginnings of a nervous flutter jumbling around in his stomach.
"Will you look at this?" the twin he thought was Fred said as the quartet of brothers entered. "Either we've gotten slower–"
"–Or Mum's gotten so fast she can feed herself while cooking for everyone else," the other twin finished for him.
"Nonsense, dears," Molly said as she slapped Ron's hand away from her eggs. "Harry made this for me."
The boys looked to him in disbelief.
"No matter what you do–," George said seriously.
"–We're never gonna call you 'Dad,'" Fred finished for him.
Harry couldn't help but chuckle, which had a pleasantly soothing effect on his nerves.
There came another pop! from outside before Mr. Weasley's voice cried out as he entered.
"Morning, Weasleys!" he called and the Weasley clan answered back in kind as Percy started to hand out the Hogwarts letters as everyone found their seats.
"Looks like they sent us Harry's as well," Percy said, passing Harry his specially addressed envelope as the owl took off again. He'd never noticed before how the green ink looked so much like one of Snape's poisons.
"Dumbledore must know you're here, Harry," Mr. Weasley said cheerfully. "Doesn't miss a trick, that man."
'Why did he have to say that?' Harry mentally moaned as his nervousness jumped up by several notches. He decided to look on with Ron as he read his letter, just in case his had been enchanted to attack him or something.
Ron immediately flipped over to the Second Year reading list to see how much trouble they'd be in for this year. There was The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk, which Hermione had already been studying away on for the past month, and then seven books by Gilderoy Lockhart.
This had to have been the same Lockhart which Cadogan and Lichfield had spoken so poorly of, though he didn't voice any of those concerns to Mrs. W-Molly yesterday when she had been gushing about his advice from the pest control book she had. He had tried to look through it himself later in the day but it seemed to be nothing more than a glowing review of how good the man was at dealing with everything and a bunch of nonsensical words he tried to pass off as spells, none of which had worked for him. With seven books it was sort of lucky the man had only used the Blood Quill to sign the contract and not write the whole book or he wouldn't have any blood left.
Fred, who had finished his own list, peered over at Ron's.
"You've been told to get all of Lockhart's books too!" he said. "The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan – bet it's a witch." He then caught his mother's eye and busied himself with his letter again.
"That lot won't come cheap," George said with a quick look to his parents. "Lockhart's books are really expensive."
"Well, we'll manage," Molly said, though she did look worried.
Perhaps this was something he could offer in exchange for them signing the agreement? Buying everyone a load of expensive books seemed a reasonable trade to him.
"I expect we'll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny's things secondhand," Molly continued.
It was only then anyone noticed something wrong; Ginny was trying to covertly look around as if she suspected one of her brothers of hiding something from her. She didn't have an envelope.
As Harry was about to voice his concern another owl swooped in to land on the table. It carried a single letter; Ginny looked relieved. George got to it first and looked concerned; he had noticed the absence of her letter too.
"Mum," he said quietly as he passed it over. "It's for you and Dad."
There a moment of silence as the husband and wife read the short letter. As the only outsider there Harry got the sense that he was intruding on someone's funeral.
"It's from McGonagall," Molly said. "The money for the Hopefuls program hasn't come through. They say they can't give out any scholarships at all this year. Arthur?" At a loss she looked to her husband. He seemed lost as well.
With a sob, little Ginny ran from the table and up to her room.
"George, will you–?" his mother asked. The boy was already moving towards the stairs before she had even finished the question.
Harry felt horrible. The Hogwarts Hopefuls hadn't been something to help graduating students find jobs, like Barchoke thought, it was to help kids who could only hope to go to Hogwarts in the first place. That day at Gringotts he'd never thought about what stopping the transfer could mean for the lives of other people. It was one thing to make older people look after themselves and something else entirely to take an opportunity away from a kid, even if it was Ginny.
He tried to tell himself the whole thing was Dumbledore's fault for stealing the money in the first place, that the old man hadn't cared if Harry had everything from his parents drained away before he knew it was even there so he shouldn't care now what it took to get it back, but that just wasn't something he was able to do.
"We don't need a set of books each," Fred told his parents in an unusually serious tone. "We've still got Bill and Charlie's old books. And if we could pry this year's out of Percy's hands–"
"–They're yours," his prefect brother quickly agreed.
"–Then George and I can share," he continued. "One set of Lockhart books could do for all of us for all the good they'll do."
"I'm sure Bill and Charlie would help a bit," Mr. Weasley said uncertainly. "And if anything could get Aunt Muriel to help–"
"The old crone would blame us, Arthur," Molly said. "And we can't ask our children to pay for this."
"I could pay for it," Harry said drawing all the Weasleys' eyes to him.
"Thank you, Harry," Molly said when she was able to speak again. "But we can't ask you to pay for it either."
"I can pay for it," he pressed, "because I was going to be paying for it originally anyway."
The Weasleys looked confused; Harry took a breath before continuing.
"I – I said last week that someone had been stealing from me," Harry chose to look only to Molly since she had been the one to stand up for his privacy back then. "Well, they weren't just stealing money," he explained. "They were giving it away too. One of the things they gave to was called the Hogwarts Hopefuls; it looked like they had been doing it for years. We didn't know what it was," Harry said quickly. "Nobody at Gringotts had ever heard of it, so we stopped it," he shrugged. "I never thought I'd know someone who needed it," Harry finished weakly.
If Dumbledore had come to collect him right then, he didn't know if he'd even bother to put up a struggle.
"So first you take her money," Ron said rising. "And then you want to be a hero and give it back? Some friend you are, Harry," he said sourly as he stormed off to his room.
"It wasn't her money, Ron, it was his," Fred called after him.
"Fred, Percy could you–," Molly started before Fred interrupted.
"–Let the git stew," he said as he pulled Percy back to his seat when he had numbly moved to rise.
"You'll have to forgive Ron, he–he's just concerned for his sister," Molly said to Harry.
"And a git," Fred stared mutinously at above him.
Harry took it as a sign of the seriousness of the conversation that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley let the comment stand.
"Ginny wouldn't have wanted the scholarship if she knew the money had been stolen, Harry," Molly said. "None of the family would have."
"What?" Harry asked confused.
"Half the family's benefited from the Hopefuls program," Mr. Weasley said explained. "Really, all of us have. Bill, Charlie, and Percy are all Hopefuls–," he said as Percy stared numbly into space. "And it was only by saving up for all those years we've been able to send Fred, George, and Ron to Hogwarts. We may not have much, but we pay our way when we can."
Strangely enough, that did make Harry feel better.
"I'd still like to help," Harry said. "You'll be doing me a favor, actually." He went on when they looked at him curiously. "The person who stole from me was only able to do it because they claim to be my guardian."
"You mean those muggles you live with?" Mr. Weasley asked with an odd look on his face.
"No, this is someone in the wizarding world," Harry explained. "He abandoned me with the Dursleys a long time ago. They would've had the account cleaned out in a single day and dumped me at an orphanage if they'd known."
"You know who this person is?" Fred asked.
"Yes, which is why I need your help to stay away from them," Harry said to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. "I need a place I can stay, at least until my next birthday."
"You can stay here as long as you need, Harry. You know that," Molly said.
"Thanks, but I really need to pay," Harry explained. "My litigator said that it would really help us out. Actually," he got up and retrieved the rental agreement from the drawer, "He sent this over today. I just didn't know of anything I could offer you in exchange for letting me rent a room and I didn't think you'd take money for it."
Molly looked down at the agreement for a while before turning to her husband.
"Arthur?"
Mr. Weasley scratched his head and looked thoughtful.
"With Bill and Charlie gone, taking on a renter does make sense," Mr. Weasley said. "And his stuff is already here. Paying for Hogwarts entirely is out of the question, but paying for the year – if you think of it as a lump sum payment rather than paying month-to-month, it's actually much more reasonable."
"But Arthur, we couldn't charge–," Molly protested.
"We'd both be benefiting," Harry said. "And I for one would consider it well worth the price to be able to call this place my home."
Molly smiled and gave him a pat on the hand.
"What do we need to do?" she asked.
It was with great relief that Harry ran past George coming downstairs as he made his way up to his room to fetch his Blood Quill, though he did have to double back for a regular quill and ink. He had no intention of pulling a Lockhart and signing the whole thing in blood, and didn't think the Weasleys would like to either. He got back in time to hear the end of George's report on Ginny.
"That'll make her feel better," George said. "The Harry thing might be a bit – Oh, hey Harry, or should we call you Roomie now?"
"Just Harry will be fine," he answered.
Fortunately, while it may have taken forever for it to arrive, it appeared the rental agreement was charmed to walk them through the process. It even outlined the section for them to fill in what way, or how much, Harry was going to pay in return and where they all needed to sign. The twins looked at him in askance when he pulled out his wand, but seemed to accept contracts being an exception to the 'no magic outside of school' rule when he explained it.
A huge weight lifted off his shoulders when it was done, so much so he felt a little lightheaded. With a pop! the house-elf from before reappeared with a bright smile and her arms held out like she wanted a hug.
"Oh, Merlin!" Molly said with a hand to her heart. She obviously hadn't been expecting such a sudden visitor.
"Er – Are you here for this, Mipsy?" Harry asked, holding up the agreement.
"Oh! Yes, Mister Hairy Pots-sir," she said embarrassedly.
"Make sure to thank him again for me, won't you?" Harry asked as he handed it over.
Mipsy nodded and with another quick wave and a "Bye!" she left again with a pop!
"Mister Hairy Pots?" Fred asked with a grin.
"How do you grow hair on a pot?" his twin continued.
"Apparently, I'm some sort of Chia Pet," he answered.
The twins may not have known what he was talking about, but he found it hilarious.
"Ron will be alright, won't he?" Harry asked. "It'd be rather awkward staying here until next year if he hates me."
"I'll look in on him and Ginny," Mr. Weasley said wearily, running his fingers through his sparse hair. "I'll make sure they know what's going on."
As Mr. Weasley left, Harry thought he heard a muttered 'git' from one of the twins, no doubt talking about their petulant missing brother.
"Oh! Where's my head?" Molly said, rising to her feet again. "I've forgotten all about breakfast."
Seeming to make up for lost time, Mrs. Weasley had a feast on the table in no time at all. Harry ate gratefully, his hunger returning as soon as the agreement was settled. Ron didn't return for the meal but Mrs. Weasley tried to put his mind at ease.
"Ron'll come around eventually," she said as she dished out a second helping onto their plates. "He's got too much of the Prewett pride in him though to make it easy. My brothers were just the same. They'd be the first to jump to each other's defense, but one wrong word and Fabian and Gideon wouldn't speak to each other for months. Merlin knows Ron could do more to be proud of though," Molly said with a shake of her head. "His grades were dreadful."
"Fred and I were thinking about getting him to try out for Keeper this year," George said.
"Wood's not going to be there forever," Fred explained, "and McGonagall lit into him when we lost our chance for the Cup last year for not having any reserve players. Even if they can hardly fly they're better than none at all, and Ron's not half bad."
Percy put down his fork; food in his stomach finally seemed to solidify what he wanted to say.
"Harry, on behalf of myself and all the other Hopefuls," the prefect said formally, "I'd like to express my appreciation for what you've done for us."
"You don't have to do that," Harry said embarrassed. "I didn't do anything, so there's no use in appreciating what a thieving guardian did with the money."
Mrs. Weasley looked embarrassed as she heaped another helping onto their plates.
"Still," Percy pressed, "the Hopefuls have always felt immensely grateful for our chance and have always looked for some way to make a difference. Bill always applied himself because of it and Charlie chose the dragons over Quidditch because he thought living the rest of his life on a broomstick would be a poor way to pay Hogwarts back."
"You remember the broom England gave him to try to change his mind?" Fred asked George enviously.
"Wish he would've left it behind," George agreed. "The burst of speed would knock your socks off."
A look passed between them sending George to his feet and heading for the stairs. Fred lingered for a moment, shoveling what he could of his eggs into his mouth before he moved to follow.
"Now where are you two going?" their mother asked.
"Can't tell you that, Mum, but I solemnly swear we're up to no good," Fred said piously.
"That's not good enough," she said, grabbing the back of his shirt and pulling him back to his seat. "You tell me what you two are up to."
Just then there was a knock at the door, causing Harry's stomach to plummet.
"You wait right there," Molly told Fred with a warning finger and steely look as she went to answer the door.
Harry put his fork down and took a calming breath, waiting for the inevitable.
"Albus! How are you? What a pleasant surprise," Molly said as she welcomed the traitorous old man inside.
"Fine, just fine," Dumbledore said as he entered. "Ah! I see that your letters have arrived."
"Well – yes," Mrs. Weasley said, a bit flustered. "We were rather concerned at first, of course, but everything's turned out for the best. You can keep Ginevra's name down, we'll be able to pay," she explained with a smile to Harry.
"Really?" Dumbledore smiled to Harry, a gesture he didn't return. "Quite fascinating. I don't suppose I could trouble you for a minute of Harry's time? We have a lot to discuss."
"We don't have anything to discuss," Harry cut in before Mrs. Weasley had a chance to respond.
Harry felt his nervousness grow in leaps and bounds and he quickly tried to get a hold of himself. 'Be Harold,' Harry said to himself. 'If there's one moment to be Harold, this is it.' He felt like he was going to be sick.
"I think you'll find there's a great deal you need to know," Dumbledore said in what he thought might pass for kind, if you didn't know any better.
"I think you'll find there's a great deal I know already," Harry said coldly.
"Harry–," Mrs. Weasley said, trying to keep things civil, as if Dumbledore being there were some kind of grand event in itself.
"I think it might be best if I take young Harry back home to his family," Dumbledore said to Molly with a hurt look.
"That place was never my home, and those people were never my family," the Harry who was Harold said.
"Certainly, you don't mean that," the headmaster said, as if trying to sooth a distraught child. "They're the only family you have."
"An accident of birth," Harold said, the phrase popping up from somewhere as he stood. "It doesn't make them my family or that place my home. This is my home," he explained. "That was signed and sealed before you ever arrived. These people have been more like family to me in the last week than the Dursleys ever were in ten years."
"Wha–what is going on?" Mrs. Weasley asked, standing by her sons. Percy looked torn while Harry doubted Fred's eyes could get any bigger.
He felt his hands grow heavy, as if all the blood in his body decided to congregate there at once. Harry flexed his fingers and had to keep himself from reaching for his wand, just to make sure it was there.
"Yes, why don't you tell her what's going on?" he asked. "Why don't you tell her how you abandoned me with those magic-hating monsters and how you've been stealing my parents' money away all this time?"
"Albus?" Molly asked, at a loss for what to think.
"Harry," the headmaster said with a wounded expression. "I never abandoned you. You don't think I'd do that to you, do you?"
Mrs. Weasley looked to him.
The nervous flutter in his stomach exploded to life once more and Harry felt the edges of panic. Had he been wrong? Was this Quirrell all over again? All last year he'd been so distracted by Snape only to learn it was Quirrell who was trying to steal the Sorcerer's Stone for Voldemort, who'd been possessed by Voldemort.
Was there some other guardian out there?
'No,' the Harold part of him thought. 'We're right. We have to be right. It's the only thing that makes sense.'
'Since when does the wizarding world make sense?' his doubt asked.
'He's the snake,' the Harry part of him said, full of righteous anger. 'We can't trust the snake. We're not as dumb-as-a-door anymore.'
"Yes," Harry said, looking Dumbledore straight in the eye. "I think you did exactly that."
"Harry," the headmaster said sadly, "the goblins have twisted your mind. I never abandoned you, and I never stole from you. Your family has always been very generous patrons, I was merely following in their footsteps and doing what I thought was best."
"Then you are his guardian?" Mrs. Weasley asked.
"His magical guardian, yes," Dumbledore explained. "His aunt and uncle have the right to him in the muggle world."
Harry's doubts fluttered again and he tried to tamp them down, remembering what Lichfield had said.
"I was born at St. Mungo's to a witch and wizard," he said with maybe a touch of panic coloring his words. "I never should have gone to the muggle world. Someone here should have looked after me."
"The person your parents picked proved untrustworthy, so I was appointed by the Minister of Magic herself," Dumbledore said in a tone clearly communicating he thought he shouldn't have to explain himself, especially to a child. "It was up to me to decide what's best for you."
Harry switched tracks and attacked again.
"Like it was up to you to decide what was best for my parents' money?" Harold asked. "They locked their account down as much as they could. My grandfather called what you did the Beggar's Circuit. That doesn't sound generous to me. It wasn't your place to help yourself to their money or to kick people off their land."
"It's a guardian's duty to see to the financial affairs of their charges, and I never kicked people off of anything," the headmaster said in the same wounded voice, but Harold wasn't having it.
"Right, you just had Gropegold do it for you so you could keep your hands clean," Harold attacked again.
"Gropego–!" Molly exclaimed.
"And the only person who twisted anyone's mind is you," Harold said forcefully. "I saw what you did to Hammerhand. He tried to protect my family and you twisted his mind!"
The part of him that was still the little boy in the cupboard spoke up and the Harold part of him proved defenseless against him.
"It's a guardian's duty to actually raise their charges," Harry said quietly. "They're not supposed to throw them away the first time they need their nappy changed."
Mrs. Weasley looked at the headmaster in shock and for the first time he seemed uncertain how to respond.
"Living with your relatives was the safest place for you," Albus said at last. "And what happened with the goblin was an unfortunate accident. I only intended to persuade him that it was for the best."
"Albus," Molly said, looking stricken. "Gropegold? Surely you wouldn't do that."
Dumbledore for once looked humbled and hung his head.
"We only have five years left. We've been here for twenty five years," she said beseechingly as Harry looked at her curiously. This time he was the one at a loss.
"I'm sorry," the headmaster said, "but it's for the greater good."
Mrs. Weasley paled, whatever she had thought his answer would be – that wasn't it. A moment of silence held before–
"Get out!" Mrs. Weasley said.
"I beg your pardon?" Dumbledore said.
"You heard me," Molly said forcefully, pointing at the door. "GET OUT!"
"Surely you don't think so ill of me," the headmaster said, back in his wounded old man voice. "Two of your sons: Fred, and Percy are named for me."
Percy legs fell out from under him as he collapsed back to his chair; Harry hadn't even recalled him standing. Fred looked like his brain had melted.
"And don't you think for one minute I'm not considering changing them to James and Barry for what you've done," Mrs. Weasley said, backing Dumbledore towards the door. "Steal from a child? Abandon him? HOW COULD YOU?"
Harry watched in stupefied silence as plump little housewife, Molly Weasley, faced down the most powerful wizard in the country.
"You are not welcome in this house," she said. "And if I never hear the name Albus Dumbledore again, it'll be too soon!"
"Might I use your floo?" the old man asked, as if hoping for one last courtesy.
"No, you may not use our floo!" an astonished Mrs. Weasley said. "Boys!" she cried imperiously. "Throw him out!"
Fred and Percy got immediately to their feet. Her tone was such even Harry found himself moving to open the door as the brothers shuffled their headmaster out into the garden. Harry slammed the door with a smile on his face, though he did peek through the curtains until he saw Dumbledore start to walk away.
There were quick footfalls on the stairs as a concerned-looking Mr. Weasley came back down.
"Did someone say Dumbledore?" he asked.
"He was here," a still-fuming Molly said. "And you won't believe what he said."
"We don't believe we could be named for him," Fred said, standing by a nodding Percy. "How does that happen?"
"It's a long story, Fred," their father said.
Fred sat down and crossed his arms in defiance, clearly communicating he wasn't going anywhere until he heard it.
"It's about – relations," their mother added.
Percy mirrored his brother while looking to his parents expectantly. Harry thought it would probably be best to leave and give them a good long moment alone; he could get his questions answered later.
"No, you can stay, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said as he began to leave. "This has to do with you too, and I'm sure you have questions."
Harry shot her a curious look and wondered if they were about to get a wizarding version of "the talk."
"Not those kinds of questions," she said quickly. "I think we've both have had quite enough of would-be guardians for today."
Somewhat relieved, though unsure how relations with Molly Weasley could have anything to do with him, Harry cautiously sat down by the two brothers. Mrs. Weasley looked to her husband as he put his hand around her shoulder.
"The truth will out," he said as he pulled out a chair for her.
"But how do we even begin?" she asked.
"We got married?" her husband shrugged and sat across from them.
"Well, yes, I suppose that would be a way to start," she said as she sat as well. "When your father and I got married," Molly said to her sons, "we lived for a while in this very small flat."
"Tiny, really," Mr. Weasley added.
"It certainly wasn't the place you'd need if you wanted a family, which we did, very much," she continued. "Your father had a friend at the time who worked for Gringotts and he asked around for someone who'd be willing to rent out a place for something we could afford."
"Eventually, he found someone," Mr. Weasley took up the tale. "It wasn't a house but it was a nice plot of land, at a good price, close to a village where we could get anything we might need."
"It was a chance to build a home of our own, however we wanted to build it," Mrs. Weasley smiled.
"–And when the kind old man who owned the place found out why we wanted it," Mr. Weasley shared her smile, "he took the land and doubled it saying–"
"–'Lots of kids need lots of room to play,' what a nice old man," Mrs. Weasley finished for him.
"And Dumbledore?" Fred prompted.
"We're getting there," his mother scolded. "The first bit of house came quick enough and we thought we'd make a start on a family in no time," she said as Percy squirmed a bit.
"As time went on–," Mr. Weasley said.
"–We thought that something might be wrong," Molly said, somewhat embarrassed. "For two – three years we'd tried with no luck–"
"We tried potions, charms, standing on our–"
"They get the idea, Arthur," Molly cut in on him. "Finally we went to St. Mungo's to see if there was anything they could do."
"The healers there said we had already tried everything they could think of," Arthur said somberly. "If the magic was going to work, if there was anything there for it to work on, it already would have."
"I was devastated," Molly said. "One of the Healers took pity on me and suggested I approach Albus Dumbledore for help."
"But how could he help you?" Fred asked.
"Because Albus Dumbledore used to be a great man," Molly said as her husband looked at her in askance. "He and this friend of his had studied cures and the like for decades, and the Healer said if anyone could help us, that friend of his could."
"Of course we told him we couldn't pay–," Mr. Weasley said.
"–And Dumbledore said the man had no need of money and he was sure he'd be willing to help," she continued. "He lived in this tower in the Hebrides, of all places, with goblin guards of all things."
"I said it was like going to the North Pole to see a very odd Father Christmas," Arthur said.
"I called him Saint Nick, because that was his name," Molly said.
"Nicholas Flamel?" Harry asked.
"You've heard of him?" Arthur asked.
"We've heard of him," the boys replied.
"Well," Molly continued, "these other goblins came with this heavy steal chest and–"
"And?" Fred asked.
"I don't know," his mother said with a shrug. "For the life of us we can't remember. They said they had to Obliviate us in order to protect the secret of how it was done, and we were so thankful for even the chance it might work that we've never pried into it."
"Needless to say, it worked," Arthur said with a smile. "In three months or so William was on the way. Of course we called him Bill bec–"
"–Because of Uncle Bilius," Fred and Percy said by rote.
"And then came Charlie," their mother said, "who we named after Charlus, the nice old man who gave us such a nice home to begin with."
"My grandfather?" Harry asked, astonished.
Mrs. Weasley smiled as the brothers gave him an interesting look.
"But how do you get Fred and Percy out of Albus Dumbledore?" Fred asked.
"Because the man has more than two parts to his name," his mother scolded him for ruining such a nice moment. "Albus Percival–," she gestured to Percy, "Wulfric–," she gestured to Fred "–which became Frederick, because we certainly weren't going to call you either Wulf or Rick," she shot her husband a glance, "Brian – which Ron was very nearly named – Dumbledore."
"That's a lot of names," Fred said, echoing Harry's own thoughts at the moment. "Why didn't you ever tell us?"
"What was the point of telling you?" she asked in return. "It's the same reason we had not to tell Harry when he arrived. We thought the land and lease had been sold years ago when the goblin we paid rent to changed, we didn't think anything shifty was going on. Saying, 'Oh, Hello, Harry, we used to rent this land from your family,' would have made things awkward."
Harry heard the fireplace roar to life but he only had eyes for Mrs. Weasley.
"So I'm your landlord," Harry said, trying to wrap his head around the situation. "But I'm also your tenant?"
It was a gruff voice that answered him.
"Law gets kinda funny, don't it?"
Harry looked up to see his litigator brushing soot off his clothes with a grin.
"Lichfeld?" Molly Weasley asked curiously as if trying to place the face to a name.
"Close," the old bailiff said. "It's –field, not –feld. Looks like you got those kids you wanted."
"You know Lichfield?" an astonished Harry asked.
"Of course we know him," Molly said. "He used to pick up our rent from time to time and gave us a nice long extension on our lease."
"Hang on," Harry said, turning to Lichfield. "You said you thought you knew the Weasleys."
"I did think I knew them," the litigator said. "I knew I knew them. It's a kind of thinking."
"You could have told me, and you could've gotten here earlier, you know," Harry said. "Dumbledore came by and tried to take me with him."
"Sorry," Lichfield said. "But I thought it was more important that everything was done as soon as possible so him taking you would've been illegal. Besides, I didn't think you needed your nappy changed. I would've been here sooner but I had to calm a panicked Overseer."
"What happened?" Harry asked concerned.
"Dumbledore made an odd move and Barchoke thought he was going to curse him in the middle of the lobby," the old bailiff explained. "Probably thought he was going to go out the same way his father did. Damn!" Lichfield said when he caught what he said.
"Hammerhand is–"
"Don't you dare tell him I said that, got it?" Lichfield said with a look.
"Got it," Harry said with his hands up. "So," he said to Mrs. Weasley, "when I mentioned Gropegold–"
"–I knew then the land had never been sold off," she answered quickly.
"It couldn't be," Lichfield interjected.
"–And with Albus acting as guardian–," she continued.
"What do you mean it'd never been sold?" her husband asked. "I thought for sure that–"
"Albus was going to have that–that goblin kick us out as soon as our lease was up," Mrs. Weasley said, again with a full head of steam. "He stood right in our house and admitted it. I never would have thought he'd attack the other goblin though; he was very professional."
Mr. Weasley looked shocked.
"He attacked him?" Lichfield asked. "He admitted it?"
"He said he tried to persuade him," Harry answered.
"How the hell did you get him to say that?" the litigator asked.
"I just said I knew what he'd done," Harry shrugged.
"No you didn't," Percy said. It was the first time he'd spoken for a while.
"Sorry?" Harry said.
"You said you saw it," Percy explained.
"Well, it's what I meant," Harry said. "Does it make a difference?"
"Oh, yes," Lichfield said. "Because there are ways you can actually see the past. In memories. If he thought you'd seen Hammerhand's memory of the event he would have wanted to put his own spin on what you saw. Might actually mean there's something there to look for."
"You're really going after him, aren't you?" Mr. Weasley asked. "Dumbledore, I mean."
"Absolutely," Lichfield said. "Speaking of which, I'm going to need a statement and memory from everyone here who saw that exchange, and your permission for it for those kids who saw it."
Mrs. Weasley looked to Harry, then nodded.
"Mipsy!" Lichfield called, bringing the little elf pop!-ing back.
"Yes, Mister Lichy, sir?" she asked.
"Go to my office. I need Truth Quills, vials, legal vellum, and two Underage Witness Forms," Lichfield said to the elf before she disappeared with a big grin. "I may just have to make her my legal secretary," he said to Harry. "She's come in quite handy today."
In moments Mipsy was back with a load of stuff in her arms. Harry helped her put it on the table so it wouldn't spill out all over the place as Lichfield slid the forms over to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. It took several minutes and some precise spell casting and labeling by Lichfield before the four somewhat smoky vials full of memories found their way into his pocket.
Harry didn't think he wanted any more Memory Extractions performed for a while; the side of his head felt decidedly numb and it felt odd to blink. Mrs. Weasley sent Fred and Percy off to find something to do, completely forgetting what she had wanted to know from Fred in the first place.
Harry remembered something he had wanted to give Lichfield and had forgotten in his letter. Telling him to wait there, he ran up to his room to put back his Blood Quill and retrieve the other odd Boy-Who-Lived book he'd gotten from Ginny.
If he had found it odd, Lichfield had looked at him like he was crazy. The old bailiff took it anyway though, saying he'd check it out.
As the Litigator rose to leave, Harry remembered something else to talk to him about.
'When did my life get so complicated?' he asked himself.
"Did you find Dobby?"
"Oh, right," Lichfield said, as if he had forgotten as well. "I found him. Negotiations are done, we just need a time to finalize the exchange."
"We're planning on visiting Diagon Alley on Wednesday, if that's what you mean," Harry said.
"Wednesday works," Lichfield said with a nod. "I'll tell them and be on the lookout for you. Did we have anything else?" he asked as if mentally reviewing things himself.
"I don't think so," Harry said. Maybe he should start carrying around a list.
With a nod to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, the wizened old bailiff left in another gout of green flames.
It was only after the Litigator left that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley spoke again.
"Harry," Mrs. Weasley started delicately. "We wanted to thank you for being so understanding about the whole book issue. I tried to get rid of them for years but they kept disappearing and popping up again."
"It's alright, Mrs. We– er – Molly," Harry said before an idea came to him. "If it's not too much to ask, I actually had one other thing to ask you for."
"Just name it, Harry, and it's yours," she said kindly.
.o0O0o.
"You left at the wrong time, little brother. We learned a lot after you left," the twin the thought was George said – or was that one Fred? They should have to go around together all the time so no one would have to guess like that.
"It doesn't matter what you learned," Ron said stubbornly. "I know all I need to know. So much for him being a true friend."
"There's nothing wrong with telling a thief to stop stealing from you, Ron," Freorge said. "And that's all Harry did. How could he know what the thief was going to do with it, or how much other people were counting on it happening?"
Ron tried not to listen, they were only trying to confuse him.
"And Harry has been a true friend – to this entire family," Percy said.
What Percy was doing hanging around with one of the twins, Ron didn't know, but he certainly wasn't going to spend his time thinking about it.
"You have no idea what he's done for us," his stuffy brother continued. "Paying for Ginny's school this year is only the start of it. He has this whole family in the palm of his hand and he's more concerned with having to leave and losing your friendship than anything else!"
Tha–that didn't sound right to Ron. How could it be? Why would Harry care about him more than he did money? Money was everything.
"And worse for you," the Geored-twinthingy said, "is you've got Mum miffed at you, and seeing as she just faced down Albus Dumbledore and threw him out of the house, her bad side is not a good place to be at the moment."
If the rest didn't make any sense, the last bit was loony. Mum loved Dumbledore and never heard a word against him. What could make – It just didn't – And Percy didn't go along with–
"What the bloody hell are you going on about?" he asked.
.o0O0o.
"I can't even talk to him! Not a single word?" a distressed Ginny asked.
"Not. One. Word," her mother reiterated.
"Not even to say 'thank you'?"
"You can say 'thank you,'" her mother said, "by not saying 'thank you.'"
Ginny couldn't believe it. How could things have gotten even worse? The moment Harry came through for her when she needed help the most, the moment that showed he might one day grow up to be the Harry from the stories – that's the moment she can't talk to him any more?!
"But my birthday's on Tuesday," she said anxiously. "He'll be there, won't he?"
Harry had to be there on her birthday. It was the day she became eleven, when she really became a young woman of Hogwarts age.
"He'll be spending the day in his room, alone, and probably writing to his girlfriend," her mother said, twisting the knife inside her. "I'll be casting a spell on the stairs myself to make sure you can't get up to his level."
"But Mum!" she cried.
"No buts," her mother said. "You've had your chance to get to know him and you've blown it. You'll stay away from him from now on. He's been incredibly generous to even let you go to Hogwarts at all, so you'll keep your mind on your books when you're there. Your brothers will be watching to make sure you don't bother him when you're at school too."
"They know?" she asked, shocked at the betrayal.
"Of course they know," her mother said. "How could they not know. You creep him out! You've been creeping them all out. The sooner you forget about Harry and find people your own age to talk to, the better off you'll be."
Ginny glared mutinously at her mother with her hands folded across her chest until the woman left her room. Her mother wasn't happy she had no books anymore, she just had to take her imagination and any possible hope from her too. Now she didn't have any friends at all and no one to talk to.
.o0O0o.
Frail old Albus looked back at the cheerful little house with scarcely any cheer in his heart. The Greater Good had presented Harry with an opportunity to do its will, and though he had acted on its behalf, he had done so halfway, and for something in return. Perhaps if he had gotten here sooner, or if those goblins hadn't worked against him, greedy as they were, he could have achieved more for the Greater Good.
As the thought weighed heavy on his heart though he contented himself with the knowledge that there was still plenty of time left for the boy. Years lay ahead of them before Harry had to do what must be done, and the lad was well on his way. There was still plenty of time to guide the boy until he was ready to make the ultimate sacrifice for the good of all.
Still, one thing did trouble the kindly old grandfather of the wizarding world. So much of what young Harry had said were but twisted parts of the truth of things. Should his trusted allies hear those twisted beliefs before he could make the truth known to them then there was a chance, however small, they might believe them, just as Harry did. Perhaps it was time to take them into his confidence.
With a weary heart, Albus turned for home. It hadn't been the outing he'd been hoping for, but everyone deserved a second chance.
.o0O0o.
AN: I've never liked it when others refer to Fred and George collectively as Forge (as if the two had fused into one body, without Gred along with it – though that joke's far past its expiration date too), which is why I particularly enjoyed Ron's attempt to call one of them something else. And after not bashing the Weasleys for this long, you didn't think I'd start now, did you? Besides, why make them evil when you can make them serfs? And as for a confrontation using magic? Action like that has to be earned and both Harry and Dumbledore (insane and deluded as he may be) are smart enough to know it'd be precisely the wrong thing to do to get what they want.
Thanks for reading.