Chapter Two

After realising that his family was calling him, Bart dashed to the rune-powered telephone in the drawing room, which was placed upon a small African Blackwood table. He then slid forwards and grabbed it in one fluid motion.

"Hello?"

As the phone dialled, Lisa pondered her next words, knowing that they would be quite revelatory.

Maybe a bit too revelatory for Bart to accept. To be honest, I can't believe that a house elf even came into my room and spoke to me. It feels like a weird out-of-body experience, or a strange dream, but I suppose that all shocking, unexpected events do at first. It takes people time to move past denial and accept that the event happened.

However, Lisa's brain was not just stirred and perturbed by this house elf's presence, since one question demanded an answer – one for which she uncharacteristically had no response.

Whom did that house elf belong to, if not the Farleys?

That she could not answer this question bothered her immensely, because Lisa's academic prowess allowed her to answer many questions with aplomb in her time. She was therefore quite accustomed to solving mysteries, whether magic or No-Maj. So why couldn't she solve this one?

Lisa was driven from her thoughts by Bart's voice, which was tainted with uncharacteristic uncertainty.

Hmmm…he sounds worried. He knows that we wouldn't ring him if something serious hadn't happened.

"Bart, I need to tell you something."

"Yeah, I figured. What's that?"

"A house elf came into my room after looking for you. He mentioned how you were very famous, very brave, very…good", Lisa sourly noted, sounding like she had just swallowed cod liver oil. Although she was loathe to admit it, she never enjoyed being upstaged, and certainly not by her older brother for traits that he didn't even have!

"Yeah, I am pretty great", Bart smugly replied.

He doesn't even know the difference between good and great. His morals and ethics are too screwed up, Lisa thought before Bart continued.

"Soooooo…who was he? Why did he come to you?"

"He told me that you shouldn't go back to Hogwarts, because you'll be in great danger."

"Eh, that doesn't scare me. I faced down Voldemort, remember. So what's this 'danger'? Also, what's his name?" Bart asked more forcefully, wanting Lisa to answer the question so he could end the call and continue basking in Farley Manor's luxury.

"I asked him what the danger was, but all he did was bang his head against the wall."

Bart laughed. "So he's a headbanger, huh? Likes his heavy metal?"

Lisa groaned before replying in an educational, lighter tone which hid her sarcasm. "Yes, Bart. In fact, he likes Metallica and Spinal Tap."

"That's great!" Bart effused as she snickered. "So…name please, sis."

"Dobby."

"Do we know any Dobbys?" Lisa heard Bart ask before boisterous laughter travelled down the line, making Lisa recoil with a wince.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH, HE'S DRAIN-O'S HOUSE ELF? REALLY?

I'll tell you what's up, Lis. Drainy With No Brains sent him there because he doesn't want me going back to Hogwarts!"

Lisa growled. "This is serious, Bart!"

"No it's not! I'll tell you what, I'll march right back there and shove my butt in Drain-o's smug prick face! Then I'll shove this Dobby dude up his butt!"

"Bart, I asked him who sent him! He told me that nobody did, and that he discovered our address after locating your file in Headmaster Dumbledore's office."

"Suuuuurrrrre he did, Lis. Well, it's been nice chatting but if you don't mind, I'll be duelling with Gemma some more. Talk soon!" He then hung up, leaving Lisa facepalming in frustration.

When will he start taking things seriously?

After leaving Lisa hanging on the telephone, Bart sniggered.

Nice try Drainy, but I'm coming back to Hogwarts and no goddamn house elf is stopping me!

"That's some peculiar discourse, Bart", Bella noted with a smirk. "Is that how they usually converse in Springfield?"

"Yes, Bella", Bart politely lied, noticing how Gemma looked ready to hex him back to the Stone Age. "Our dialect is quite different from yours."

"Quite", the Farley matriarch dryly noted. "However, I don't believe that such vernacular would be well received at the soirees we pure-bloods attend. I trust that I will not hear such language when you attend one?"

"I promise that you won't, Bella", Bart smoothly reassured. "Gemma's etiquette lessons have been going well, haven't they Jake?"

"Yes, I would say so", Jake stuffily noted. "And I understand why you would converse with your sister in language she understands. So I will overlook that little exchange."

"Thank you", Bart unctuously replied. "So Gemma, may we duel some more?"

Gemma's expression softened as her competitive juices flowed. "We may."

Soon enough, Bart and Gemma were staring at each other with hungry eyes, prepared to draw their metaphorical guns when opportunity knocked. Bart knew that he couldn't take his eyes off her for a second. He did that before their first duel, resulting in his back unceremoniously slamming into the floor before Gemma stood over him with a smirk.

"Bart, this is a duel", she smugly noted before disarming him and applying Finite Incantatem. "If you lose focus, your opponent will take advantage. Duels aren't about being nice, or fair. They are about beating your opponent. Remember that."

"Of course", Bart placatingly replied. She forgot that I can do wandless magic.

In a trice, Bart banished Gemma backwards, summoned his wand and balletically leapt into the air before flinging a stunner Gemma's way, hoping to revenge himself upon her before she could react.

Unfortunately, Gemma's years of practice duelling her father bore their bitter fruit for Bart, as she regained her footing and dodged the stunner before screaming "YOU LITTLE TOERAG!" and firing a Verdimillious Tria at the floor.

Oh crap, Bart thought, recognising the glowing green orb. He knew that he would be without sight and sound and thus at Gemma's mercy if he didn't act. Luckily, unlike those hapless Slytherins they fought in their common room, he saw it coming, obliterating the orb with a silent Finite Incantatem.

The mage then gracefully landed on his right foot and dodged Gemma's Gaseous spell by lifting his left leg and arms. She followed up with a stunner, compelling him to contort his body by swinging his right foot towards Gemma as his right hand clasped his left wrist.

Holy crap, this actually steadies my aim! Bart instinctively realised before firing a Glacius. However, Gemma was equal to the task, instinctively deflecting the charm with an artful Protego. Forced between flying or freezing, Bart chose the former, performing a mid-air split before casting a Fumos and using the resultant smokescreen to silence and disillusion himself.

She'll figure out where I am pretty quick, but that'll buy me a few secs, Bart thought. He made them count, casting a Bāsākā just before Gemma's Homenum Revelio swooped over him. Having no time to savour the heavenly high, he then bombarded the area before him with spells, hoping beyond hope that Gemma hadn't dodged.

Unfortunately, he was already trapped. Before he knew it, a stunner screamed towards him from his blind spot and knocked him out.

After regaining consciousness, he remembered how Gemma stood over him, with her posture radiating arrogant superiority. Unfortunately for Bart, she still left him paralysed.

Obviously she won't let me get another shot in. I won't try and hit her in the back after the duel; she'll just hit me with that Gaseous spell when I'm distracted or something, Bart thought before Gemma spoke with undiluted glee, like she had just ensnared a werewolf in her trap.

"I didn't know you were so good at ballet, Bart. Your teacher clearly taught you well. But I attended that meeting with Dumbledore and I duelled beside you in Slytherin's common room. I knew about that little Bāsākā trick, that it increases your speed and reflexes, and that you'd use it as soon as you could, because you weren't going to win otherwise.

I'm not stupid, you know. I wasn't just going to stand around and let you do whatever you wanted behind that smokescreen, so I started moving immediately after casting Homenum Revelio because I knew that you couldn't see me through the smoke.

Incidentally, you might recall that my father is an experienced curse-breaker who knows all about charms. I asked him about the Bāsākā and its effects while you were bathing one day, because I wanted to know more about it.

He asked me where you learnt the charm, and I told him that you probably learnt it from that Buddhist Combat Magic book you were so obsessed with. He speculated that because the spell sounded Japanese, and that Japanese wizard combatants were historically obsessed with dying honourably, that the spell's purpose was to let those warriors make a heroic last stand before it wore off, after which they'd have only enough energy left to kill themselves.

He told me that while it could quickly dispatch inexperienced combatants, like the idiots we fought in our common room, it wouldn't work against a skilled, committed duellist because if they couldn't withstand your assault, they'd just conceal themselves and wait until it wore off.

In other words, you need to be accurate, keep calm and wear down your opponent, not just bowl them over with your speed and reflexes."

If Bart could glare at her, he would. He was normally unusually deferential towards Gemma, but he just couldn't get enough of that adrenaline rush. I'll be using the Bāsākā plenty more times, Gemma. Don't you worry…

She didn't, since Bart didn't have an opening to use it again. Indeed, while Bart was not so embarrassingly blindsided in subsequent duels, merely dodging her spells and deflections kept him literally on his toes. Energetic though he was, even he couldn't contort his body forever.

Meanwhile, Gemma's contortions were more economical. Moreover, she was intelligent enough to not prematurely exhaust herself by using overly powerful or complex spells. As such, while she was somewhat fatigued after their duels, Bart was significantly more so. Luckily for Bart, the endurance gap was closing since those workouts built up his fitness. Alas, outright victory remained elusive.

There's one thing I haven't tried yet, Bart thought as they circled each other in the present. Here goes nothing…

"Protego Totalum!" he bellowed, casting a powerful shield around himself. Gemma's eyes widened in bewilderment, causing her to hesitate. Bart gleefully took advantage.

Now!

Before she knew it, Gemma was stripped of her clothes and reduced to shrieking in pain while clutching her genitals.

Bart quickly removed the shield and silently stunned her before keeling over in laughter. After disarming her, he momentarily admired her long, wavy brunette hair and high cheekbones.

Even with a genital rash she's still so pretty, Bart thought. He then uttered "Rennervate!" – a spell which Gemma taught him after reviving him the first time – and let his guard down as she awoke with a groan.

So he was completely unprepared for the sharp jolt of pain that resulted after Gemma bared her teeth and grabbed his groin, forcing him to drop both wands.

"OWWWWWWWW!" Bart yelled, as Gemma braved the pain and swirled around before clutching his robe lapels and dragging him down to eye level.

"An eye for an eye, you little git. Next time, don't let your guard down", she sneered before shoving him onto the floor. As he clutched his genitals, Gemma retrieved her wand before pointing it towards her nether regions, though not without obvious discomfort.

"Episkey", she uttered as the pain receded. Having fully recovered, she retrieved Bart's wand and strode over to the lad, whose breathing was returning to normal. Gemma chuckled.

"Very clever trick, Bart. You're obviously no Gryffindor after all. They'd be too noble to try that."

Bart propped himself up in a fugue of anger.

"Well, what the hell else could I do? It's not like anything else has worked!" he exclaimed.

Gemma chuckled.

"True, but a Protego Totalum won't block an Unforgiveable Curse. If your opponent really wanted to harm you, they'd just shoot through the shield and you'd have to dodge, or else. You wouldn't have time to perform that little trick."

Unforgiveable Curses? Bart thought before suddenly remembering. Of course! That dwarf Fliddick, I mean Flitwick, told me about them!

"Like the Imperius Curse?"

Gemma nodded. "Also, the Cruciatus Curse and the Killing Curse."

"You mean that green curse Quirrell kept shooting at me?"

"Yes, that." Gemma then sat down beside him with a shrewd smile. "About that whole episode…what was the real reason you wanted to stop him?"

"Because he's evil?"

"Because he's evil?" Gemma mockingly repeated. "Really, Bart?"

"Yeah, sure."

Gemma gave him a knowing glare.

Guess she's not buying that one. Time for Plan B.

"Well, why do you think?" Bart teased.

"Well, any Slytherin worth his salt would want the Stone for themselves."

She has a point. "But wouldn't a Slytherin be cunning enough to wait until the Stone was in a less secure location before stealing it?"

"Not if they thought someone else would take it before they had the chance."

D'oh! When Bart just uncomfortably sat there, Gemma laughed.

"I thought so."

Bart looked at her in amazement.

"You're not mad?"

Gemma laughed softly. "Not over that. I was angry that you nearly killed yourself, but your motivations were worthy of a Slytherin. You showed cunning and resourcefulness by getting three Gryffindors to help you without tipping off anybody else in either house, for one thing."

That she knows of, Bart thought, recalling Daphne confronting him over it in the library.

Gemma expression then became serious.

"However, while showing complete disregard for the rules is also very Slytherin, as a prefect I would have had to stop you from taking the Stone. If I didn't, I would have been stripped of my position and there'd be nobody to rein Weasley in," Gemma noted, figuring that playing on Bart's history with Percy would persuade him that her actions were reasonable. She was correct, for Bart opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. Gemma smirked at his expression before continuing.

"That said, given the state of our House, I appreciate a good Slytherin when I see one, and you are definitely that."

"Thanks Gemma", Bart warmly replied.

Gemma gave him an affectionate smile, genuinely caring for the boy despite her machinations. "My pleasure. Now I'll show you how to heal broken noses, toes, and split lips. You move on your toes a lot, so you'll need to know this spell if you find cover after getting injured. It could save your life", she solemnly stated. True to form, Episkey took only minutes for Bart to master. However, he felt thoroughly famished by this point.

Oh man, I hope Sleazy cooks us a real good meal. I'm starving.

To Sleazy's credit, he hadn't let his extracurriculars impede his culinary skills, for he served up a sumptuous cassoulet for the quartet. Bart drooled in delight as the salty sausage hit his taste buds. Really, he had no idea that such delicious food existed until he met the Farleys.

"Sleazy, you cook some terrific meals", Bart appreciatively noted, to which Sleazy smiled.

"Sleazy does his best, Mr. Barty. Sleazy puts effort into everything he does, whether that's cooking meals for his masters or getting favours outside."

Trying not to picture what happened when Sleazy obtained his favours, Bart reassured him.

"I agree."

The house elf beamed, but unfortunately the good mood was ruined when a large envelope was dropped onto Bella's lap by Gemma's screech owl, Aurélien, whom they had acquired in France. Bella opened the envelope and recoiled. Bart, Gemma, and Jake looked concerned.

"Are you OK, mother?" a fully dressed Gemma tenderly asked.

"Yes, Gemma", Bella reassured. "Just a little business disagreement."

Gemma thought for a moment before catching on. "You mean…"

Bella nodded solemnly, but Bart noticed how her eyes and face hardened into a steely, stony expression that he hadn't previously seen from the normally phlegmatic matriarch. Unease slowly but surely followed his cassoulet into his stomach.

"What's going on?" Bart tentatively asked.

Bella's expression softened. "Nothing of importance, Bart. It just involves my apothecary. Some associates have been negotiating a deal with us, and we received a rather negative response to our offer. It is upsetting, but nothing that will really endanger us. It will be taken care of."

Hmmmm, Bart thought. He knew that she wasn't telling the whole truth, but he figured that pressing her wasn't worth it.

"Fair enough", he replied. "Speaking of letters, I really liked all that fan mail that's come through. But why haven't we received…"

"Any Howlers?" Bella finished. "Long ago, Jake and I paid the goblins to set up protective enchantments, or wards, around the manor which block dangerous or malicious mail from people who dislike us."

Bart nodded in understanding before Gemma suggestively asked a question.

"So whom will our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher be?"

"Dumbledore surely has something planned. He always seemed to whenever I dealt with him", Jake replied as father and daughter momentarily exchanged knowing smirks. Bart missed this because he was still consuming his cassoulet. Nonetheless, he asked one more question.

"You would have recognised Dobby if he came here, wouldn't you?"

Gemma nodded. "That's probably why he hasn't tried, because he knows that there's a good chance that we would see him and ignore what he said before having Sleazy forcibly escort him to Malfoy Manor", she replied with an increasingly venomous tone.

Bart nodded, as his thoughts turned to Harry.

Hope Harry's OK. I haven't heard anything from him since Sleazy took him away. Oh well, I'm sure he's just dealing with things.

Bart was right; Harry was indeed dealing with things. Right now, in a form of synchronicity, the bespectacled mage was dealing with dinner. Unlike the Farleys, the Weasleys did not have a house elf to assist them, but the love and care that Molly, the Weasley matriarch, put into the meal was nonetheless breathtaking. However, the sensory deprivation that Harry had recently suffered made him contemplate some disturbing possibilities.

Am I hallucinating? Surely this can't be real? None of what's happened today feels real, actually. I still can't believe that Bart rescued me, and that I'm eating with the Weasleys.

Luckily for Harry, Molly's expectant question dispelled these dark, isolating thoughts.

"Enjoying the meal, Harry?"

Harry shyly smiled at the short, plump but big-hearted redhead, who was wearing a flowered apron which had her wand sticking out, as he savoured his rice pudding.

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley. Very much. Thank you", he sincerely replied. Molly beamed.

"Well, it's the least I could do after the state we found you in."

Harry nodded in acceptance as his mind drifted to that time.

Earlier that afternoon, Harry found himself inside The Burrow. Unfortunately for the young mage, his trip with Sleazy was no more pleasant than that with the Farleys.

"This is The Burrow, Mr. Potty. Sleazy will be getting favours now. Goodbye", the elf blandly announced before clicking his fingers and fading away while Harry regained his bearings.

He then appraised his surroundings. Messy though they were, in his heart Harry knew that this was only because a close-knit family lived in them. A tear formed in Harry's eye upon realising that. That was something that he longed for, even though it had always eluded him.

He wiped away the tear, took a deep breath and steadied his nerves before shakily calling out.

"R-Ron?"

Receiving no response, Harry started worrying. What would he do if the Weasleys weren't there? Just stand around like a lump? But then…

"Harry?"

Harry whirled around with a grin. There, at the living room's entrance, stood none other than Ron Weasley, who gaped at Harry before advancing slowly, his brain not quite believing his eyes. Surely his eyes were lying?

Harry's grin broadened.

"Yeah, it's me Ron."

Realising that his eyes weren't lying, Ron rushed over as the duo shared an emotional hug.

"Harry! It's really you! After all these weeks not hearing from you! We feared the worst, mate! We were going to get the car and get you ourselves but…"

He then stepped back and observed Harry's shambolic state before frowning deeply.

"Harry…what's happened to you? You look like you've been starved."

Harry stared at the floor, not quite sure what to say.

"A house elf brought me here", he replied after looking up, figuring that honesty was the best policy.

Ron's eyes widened. You couldn't just buy house elves from the shop. They came with castles and manors, and were invariably employed by wizarding families – ones with old money, not just Ron's new money. He suddenly had a very uncomfortable feeling.

"Whose was it?" he asked, not expecting to like Harry's answer.

"The Farleys."

"WHAT?"

"Well, you were the one that asked!" Harry cried. Why did he bother asking?

"How did that pack of snakes even find you?" Ron asked, before a shadow crossed his face.

"Simpson was with them, wasn't he?" Ron enquired, in a low, dangerous tone that dared Harry to say 'yes'. Sure, his relationship with Bart had improved since their mutual adventure – but Bart was a Slytherin, so Ron couldn't truly like him, no matter how hard he tried.

Being a consummate Gryffindor, Harry sighed before taking the dare.

"Yes."

"HOW COULD YOU? How could you ask that snake to rescue you? Why didn't you wait for me? Or even Hermione?"

"BECAUSE I COULDN'T GET IN TOUCH WITH YOU! A HOUSE ELF NAMED DOBBY WAS BLOCKING YOUR MAIL AND HERMIONE'S!" Harry roared, having reached the end of his tether.

Ron recoiled slightly.

"Hey Harry, it's nice to hear your soft voice", an older, more weathered voice jovially mocked, with George sporting a cherubic smile as he strode inside.

"Yeah, you might want to raise it a bit. Maybe some people in Portsmouth can't hear you", an identical voice dryly noted, as Fred followed with his trademark swagger. Upon seeing Ron, they both grinned.

"Well, it's nice that you and the family celebrity are having a harmonious reunion", George sarcastically observed as Ron rolled his eyes.

"George and I wouldn't want to ruin the mood or anything, but what were you saying about a house elf named Dobby?"

Harry realised just how belligerent he had been.

"Sorry, Ron."

Ron shrugged it off and placed his arm around Harry, before guiding him to the kitchen while the twins followed.

"Don't worry, mate. You've obviously been through a lot, so I'll get you something to eat. Now why was this house elf blocking your mail?"

In the cosy Weasley kitchen, Harry sat on a chair next to a scrubbed wooden table and ate a Wizochoc while recounting every pertinent detail, from the Dursleys locking up his magical belongings when he returned to Privet Drive, to Dobby's fateful visit, his subsequent imprisonment, his SOS to Bart, his subsequent rescue, and finally his arrival at The Burrow.

"Mafia? What's a mafia?" Fred asked.

Harry sighed.

"Criminals."

Fred and George turned to each other with face-splitting grins.

"Wicked!"

After Ron's eyebrows shot into the stratosphere, he shook his head.

"Yeah, that'd be right. Only a snake would hire a bunch of crims to rescue you."

"Ronald, Ronald, Ronald. How can you be so rude about our Lord and Saviour Bartholomew Simpson?" Fred chided mockingly.

"Yes, Ronald. He saved us from You-Know-Who, he did!" George replied.

"He would have made a ffiiiiiiinnne Gryffindor", Fred exulted, with the twins facetiously punctuating their point by jumping onto the floor and bowing repeatedly.

"ALL HAIL BART! ALL HAIL BART!"

Ron stared at them and shook his head in exasperation before hearing Harry chuckle for the first time that summer. He quickly whirled around.

"Don't tell me that you agree with them?" Ron gasped.

Harry finished chuckling before replying.

"Oh no, he's a Slytherin through and through."

Ron nodded, not being able to picture Bart as a Gryffindor.

"Now this Dobby…he didn't tell you who sent him or why you'd be in great danger if you went back to Hogwarts?"

Harry shook his head. "I asked, but he just banged his head against the wall. It's like something was stopping him from telling me."

George shook his head. "Mate, I think you've been had."

Fred agreed. "Yeah, I reckon that Dobby's masters just don't want you back at Hogwarts. Is there anyone at Hogwarts who really doesn't like you?"

"Draco Malfoy", Harry replied, "but I think he hates Bart more."

"Wow, shock of the century", the twins joked in unison, remembering how they had mocked Draco for losing a duel to Bart.

Harry suddenly had an epiphany.

"If Malfoy sent Dobby to talk me out of going back to Hogwarts, then did Dobby visit Bart as well?"

Fred gave Harry a quizzical look. "But Bart's an American. He lives in America. The Malfoys shouldn't know his address."

Harry nodded but added, "They shouldn't have known mine either, though. It's not like I send love letters to Malfoy telling him my life story."

George nodded. "Our lad Harry does make a fantastic point."

"True. So Harry, have you ever seen gnomes before?" asked Fred.

"Yeah, they look like fat little Santa Clauses and…"

"Right", said Fred, "so you haven't. But that's OK, we'll show you. George, Ron, let's take Harry to the hedge. He can witness the pleasures of de-gnoming firsthand."

Harry grinned. "I wouldn't miss it for the world", he dreamily replied as the Weasleys escorted him.

The Weasleys exchanged meaningful looks. It was truly remarkable that something which was so prosaic to them could seem so enthralling to Harry.

Then again, Harry has had nothing exciting to do while living with those Muggles. No wonder the least little thing gets him all excited, Ron thought as he studied Harry's blissful expression.

As Harry stepped outside, he heard a kindly maternal voice.

"Harry? Is that you?"

"Oh, hello Mrs. Weasley. It's nice to see you", Harry politely stated as Molly, whom he had met by the train alongside the other Weasleys, strode towards him before enveloping him in a bearhug.

"Come on, guys. Let Mum have her time with the Boy-Who-Lived", Fred drawled, as the Weasley boys ventured to a weedy hedge. Molly shot Fred a dirty look before grinning at Harry.

"Oh, it's so good to see you here!" she exclaimed before stepping back and observing his shabby countenance. Her brown eyes, which normally brimmed with sparkling warmth, now carried a much more concerned, haunted look. Harry knew that look; he often saw it in the mirror.

"Harry, dear. What happened to you?"

Harry sighed. He didn't want to set Molly off, but he couldn't lie to her either. After all, she was the closest thing he had to a mother. So, he diplomatically told the truth.

"Bart Simpson and the Farleys convinced the Dursleys to let me come over. The Farleys' house elf then brought me here."

Molly frowned. She had developed a rather negative impression of Bart after reading reportage about him from various newspapers, alongside what Fred, George, and Percy wrote about him in their letters home. Tellingly, Ron just pretended that Bart didn't exist.

I don't really like that Simpson boy. He's such a showboat, like that fraud Lockhart. He also seems like such a bad influence – even more than Fred and George. How could he treat Percy like that?

And as for the Farleys…they were always so mercenary. So selfish. They must have bribed Skeeter to write such nice things about them and that Simpson boy, because she wasn't nearly as positive about Ron. I can't believe that I used to take her seriously!

Still…at least Harry's safe. That's all that matters right now.

She then smiled.

"Well, it's wonderful to see you here, anyway."

"Mum?" asked a small redhead, who was wearing both denims and a red T-shirt that reflected the fiery personality within. However, this personality evaporated whenever she laid eyes on Harry. Instead, she clammed up and went "Eep!" before bolting into the house.

"Come on, Ginny! Don't be shy; Harry won't hurt you!" Molly called out before turning back to Harry. "Forgive her dear; she's just nervous. She usually can't stop talking about you."

Harry half-heartedly chuckled, not caring for being objectified. He quickly changed the subject.

"That's OK. Now Fred, George, and Ron were talking about de-gnoming."

Molly sighed.

"It's pretty boring, dear. Are you sure you want to try it?"

Harry nodded. Molly tightly smiled, placing an arm around him before escorting him to the hedge where the Weasley boys worked.

"Now, gnomes are small, leathery looking things. Fred and George call them 'potato men' because their heads look like potatoes." After rolling her eyes, Molly continued. "Now, you grab them by their ankles, turn them upside down, swing them around in circles and throw them as far as you can, so they get really dizzy and can't just crawl back into the gnomeholes."

Harry looked at her askance. Sounds like something Bart would enjoy.

She smiled reassuringly.

"Don't worry, dear. It doesn't really hurt them. Also, please make sure they don't bite you. They have sharp teeth and they've nipped the boys a few times."

Harry nodded obligingly. "They must come back all the time, then."

Molly scowled. "Only because Mr. Weasley is too lazy to properly get rid of them."

Harry nodded slightly before the quintet began de-gnoming in earnest. Before long, gnome after gnome flew into orbit before landing with an ignominious, painful thud.

After the de-gnoming, Harry's stomach let rip a massive growl, ramming home exactly how little he had eaten that day.

Molly saw Harry doubling over and wrapped his arm around him with a concerned expression.

"Are you OK, dear?"

Harry straightened up and smiled. "Yes, Mrs. Weasley. I'm just hungry, that's all. I haven't eaten much today."

Those Farleys didn't even have the decency to feed him before sending him over! Molly fumed before taking a deep breath and facing the young mage.

"Don't worry, Harry. I'll make sure you have a fantastic meal", she replied, her smile expanding when she saw Harry's bright, grateful smile.

Indeed, Mrs. Weasley cooked the best cuisine Britain had to offer. To well-travelled individuals that wouldn't have meant that much, but to Harry it meant everything given that he previously subsisted on scraps. He tucked into a delicious Shepherd's Pie while sitting alongside the thin, balding, red-haired Weasley patriarch, Arthur, before beginning his rice pudding.

"You know Harry, I still can't believe that you're sitting here with us. You really gave me a fright when you entered the shed with Molly earlier. I thought I was seeing things! So Bart's a Muggleborn isn't he? He'd know all about cars, I imagine. Did he pick you up in one?"

Molly cleared her throat in annoyance. "Arthur…"

"Uh, of course Molly. What Bart did was very dangerous. Harry could have been hurt", Arthur placated, having been told what happened earlier. Unlike his wife, he was not necessarily unhappy that Bart and the Farleys had picked Harry up, but he was certainly surprised.

He didn't necessarily dislike Jacob Farley, but they weren't exactly close. They were fundamentally different people who socialised in different circles. As such, they exchanged only stiff pleasantries whenever they crossed paths at the Ministry. This was rare though, for the pure-blooded Jake never needed to visit Arthur's department, that being The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.

Harry offered them a wan smile. "No, Bart would never hurt me." Physically. "Also, I think the van was a Ford. I wasn't really paying attention, though."

Arthur eyes widened. "A Ford, you say? Well, our car's a Ford, too. A Ford Anglia."

"Yes…a heap of junk that you experimented on until it could fly", Molly remarked, infusing fire into her face and voice.

Arthur recoiled.

"W-well dear, that's not technically illegal. Provided that you weren't intending to fly…"

"Arthur, you wrote that Act yourself! The definition of the word 'intend' covered about five pages! It'd be impossible for any prosecutor to determine whether you had 'intended' to fly that car by that definition, even if you drove it halfway around the world and back!"

"W-well dear, the law is the law, and we must respect it!"

Molly threw her hands up and groaned before cleaning everybody's plates using Scourgify. As she did, Harry suddenly realised something.

Of course! I need to ask Bart about Dobby. He'll also want to know about the flying car, knowing him.

Sure enough, later that night, Ron and the twins were cooped up in Ron's fifth-floor room, as the ghoul in the attic above groaned while striking pipes. Harry had almost collapsed onto the floor from sensory overload when he entered, such was the amount of orange saturating the room. This was because Ron apparently thought that he should lovingly spam the team picture of the Chudley Cannons, his favourite Quidditch team, across the room.

Now that's what you call dedication, Harry dryly thought as he whipped out his parchment before borrowing one of Ron's quills. Normally, the twins would have mockingly called the Chudley Cannons a bunch of chumps, but they were too busy watching Harry write. Ron normally wouldn't have cared but he was honestly as curious about Dobby's origins as the twins were.

"Hey, Bart."

"Hey, Harry. Good to hear from you, dude. You OK there?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Did a house elf named Dobby visit your house?"

"Yeah, but I wasn't there, so my sister spoke to him. He supposedly stole my file from Dumbledore's office. Listen, don't worry about it, man. Drain-o's just trying to keep us away from Hogwarts."

The twins snickered at Bart's nickname for Draco before George turned to Harry.

"We told you, mate."

Harry nodded his head and shrugged before pressing on.

"So…did you know that the Weasleys also have a flying car?"

"A flying car? Really? That's so cool! I have to sucker the Farleys into getting me one. What is it?"

"A Ford Anglia."

"Heh, another Ford, huh? Small world. Is it a cool car?"

"Well, Mrs. Weasley called it a heap of junk."

"Doesn't sound great. I'll tell you what; I'll get the Farleys to buy me a really cool flying car, and you can ride in it."

Harry and the twins grinned broadly, while Ron just shook his head.

Snakey git. He's always upstaging me. Even being a celebrity and receiving all that money from those interviews isn't good enough to show him what for. He even has Skeeter write nicer things about him! I mean, I've enjoyed reading all that fan mail, and a lot of what's been written about me in magazines and papers around the world, but bloody hell, why does he have to keep showing me up?

While Ron lamented Bart's showmanship, Harry suddenly frowned before writing back.

"Mr. Weasley enchanted his car to fly. How are you going to enchant yours?"

"Dude, the Farleys are mad liquid, even without the money me and Gemma have gotten from interviews. They'll find a way."

Ron's face burned in resentment. Oh, of course they will. Those old wizarding families always have loads of money to throw around. Meanwhile, I had to pay loads of money to the goblins to set some wards up so I wouldn't receive any more Howlers and letters full of undiluted bubotuber pus from nutters! But Simpson the Great wouldn't have any of those problems because the Farleys are so bloody rich! Just like the Malfoys!

While envy seared through Ron, Harry pressed on.

"So what car are you going to buy?"

Harry could just picture Bart's grin broadening as he wrote back.

"One that'll wow the living daylights out of people…"

Author's Notes for Chapter Two

Quicker off the ranks this time!

As promised, this chapter teases out the different consequences Bart, Gemma and Ron faced as a result of their newfound celebrity. Canonically, Ron would enjoy the attention and the money, but not so much the criticism. I'll explore the reasons behind why Rita Skeeter reported on Bart/Gemma and Ron very differently in subsequent chapters.

My understanding is that newspapers and magazines will pay celebrities for interviews if they're particularly newsworthy, and given their role in thwarting Voldemort, Ron, Bart and Gemma would be. This is obviously implied by journalists from across the world attending that press conference in Chapter 17.

Apologies to Britons regarding this, but Britain isn't known for its culinary offerings.

Obviously I don't endorse giving women genital rashes, so I had Bart receive his comeuppance immediately afterwards.

bauers374: Yeah, Bart is more of a simp than he normally is (something that I lampshaded in this chapter). I explained why that would be at the end of Chapter 3. I do plan to involve Ravenclaws more in this story, FWIW. Also, Sleazy was inspired by The Seven Duffs.

James Songbird: Thanks for the kind words. The broom scene in Chapter 1 was ripped from Whacking Day, which had Groundkeeper Willie's tractor daring Bart to take it for a ride. Bart does and gets himself expelled afterwards. Same deal with Mandy. The implication was that he was hallucinating. With hindsight, I could have made that clearer.