Chapter 10, everybody! In which we go from the end of first year into summer vacation…alas, poor Harry….

Not sure if I mentioned this before, but Dumbledore here is based more on my favorite depictions of him, not the least Saphroneth's fic Harry is a Dragon and That's Okay. Also, got a good head of steam on this fic thanks to reading Wishweaver's fic Realizations—it's incomplete, but it's 200+k long and finishes in a comfy spot so it's worth the investment. :)

And yeah—just take a look at the beginning of Chamber of Secrets—book-Harry is a sarcastic little snot who will take the swing, consequences be hanged. And in this case, referencing Don't Starve and Tolkien.

Thanks for the review, d8rkforcen1ght7! Ah, yeah—at this point ANY sense would be good for those three. XD

Harry Potter © JK Rowling

Harry was actually kind of surprised to run into Dumbledore on his way out, accompanied by Professor McGonagall.

As he was informed, Professor McGonagall had, upon sending them back outside, sent an owl to Dumbledore, who realized as soon as he was at the Ministry that he was needed back at Hogwarts (the owl caught up with him about then, wearing an extremely aggravated expression), immediately came back, had a brief conference with Professor McGonagall, confirmed that Quirrell had gone after the stone, and then headed down here. Ron and Hermione had already been sent to the infirmary, so all that really remained at this point was taking care of Quirrell and getting Harry out of there.

Dumbledore took care of the former while Professor McGonagall took care of the latter, thoroughly reading him the riot act the whole way up regarding jumping in without looking.

"I'm sorry, Professor," he told her when she paused to suck in a breath. "But I knew it was important that Quirrell not get the stone, and it didn't seem like anyone was doing anything about it—"

Professor McGonagall held up a hand. "I understand your reasoning, Mr. Potter, but understand that I had to confirm things first, and had to make sure you three didn't just run off spouting your theories. As it is, you lot are lucky you weren't killed." Put a hand to his shoulder when he sagged. "That's not to say I'm not proud of you for doing what you thought was the right thing—just temper your actions with caution from now on."

"I'll try, Professor."

The next day saw the school rife with rumors, something Harry noticed whilst apologizing to Neville for the night prior. Dumbledore's announcement at dinner "to clear up some confusion" didn't help matters—although the points were nice and Neville disappearing under a cloud of cheering Gryffindors for earning the ten points needed to pull ahead of Slytherin was a scene that Harry was certain he'd never forget.

Professor Quirrell resigning from his post "due to unfortunate circumstances as well as exploding in a puff of smoke" was definitely questionable.

Other than that, the rest of the end of the year was quite pleasant, and even saw Gryffindor winning the house cup—and Dumbledore assured them all that the next time Hogwarts was used to protect a rare object by means of a long series of traps, he'd be certain to announce it earlier in the year so as to give everyone a fair chance to try for it (much to the chagrin of most if not all the teachers).

Yes, Harry had no complaints about school, or the train.

It was when he got back to Privet Drive that things came to a screeching halt.

All of Harry's school things were quickly thrown under the stairs and locked in, and he got clocked over the head for refusing to let go of Hedwig's cage—he pointed out that Hedwig would literally die being locked under the stairs and Uncle Vernon countered that he wouldn't have owls flying everywhere—Harry finally pointed out that if his friends or the school didn't hear from him they'd send someone like they did his first year, and that finally got Vernon to let go.

That, and the deep bites that Hedwig left on his hand.

The first thing Harry did upon getting up to his room was to let Hedwig out and tell her not to come back under any circumstances, something she and Snips both protested—Harry pointed out that Uncle Vernon would most likely kill her if he caught her, tried to get Snips to go with her—

Was cut off by Aunt Petunia rapping on the door and telling him to get dinner ready.

Harry hated everything about this—it was as if Hogwarts had never happened, he was still the useless freaky boy that did the chores and cooked the meals. If it weren't for Snips hanging on to the inside of his shirt and the white owl locked in her cage, he would have thought he dreamed it all up.

The looks he was getting from Snips didn't help at all.

"It used to be a lot worse," Harry said, taking a bit from his slice of bread and giving it to Snips, who turned his beak up at this. "Come on, you can't be picky—that's all we're getting today."

If a weird bat-thing could look dumbfounded, Snips was doing it perfectly.

Hedwig nibbled on her cage, cross—gave him a look when he gave her a crust of bread.

"Don't be that way—it's only until September. Hopefully. Just don't get Uncle Vernon mad at you."

Snips started squawking—squawked further when Harry tried to shush him. "And I know they'll all squash you if they see you. Just—lay low, okay?"

Snips groused mightily at that, apparently convinced that this was Harry being irreparably dense for some reason, but Harry figured he'd get used to it.

Harry certainly had, unfortunately.

Summer continued much as summers had at Privet drive before Hogwarts had become a thing, with Harry working long hours in the hot sun and occasionally sneaking sips of water from the hose. Snips was miserable, being a color that absorbed heat easily, but Harry didn't dare let him be exposed and Snips refused to stay in Harry's room. In all honesty, Harry was quite looking forward to hiding in his bedroom while his uncle Vernon did his business deal with Mr. and Mrs. Mason tonight—his plan to be as quiet as possible involved going to bed early and sleeping hard.

The first sign his plans were to be derailed came from spotting a pair of big green eyes in the bushes.

Harry stared, reasonably certain his aunt hadn't gotten a bush with eyes while he was gone, mostly because that was not normal. He toyed with sending a letter to Neville, who would know of such a plant—except he hadn't gotten any letters from anyone. Maybe Dudley was right, maybe nobody really wanted to talk to him.

As if the thought had summoned him, Dudley came out with the express purpose of taunting him with words and ice cream.

Harry tolerated this for a grand total of one minute. Prior to Hogwarts, he usually kept his mouth shut, reserved sharp turns of phrase for when he was assured of a quick getaway.

Hogwarts had changed things, however—had certainly given him the opportunity to develop his wit and his tongue, and with the worst punishment he had gotten being that detention in the Forbidden Forest, the one cardinal rule of keep quiet and don't ask questions had slipped from the top of his priority list (indeed, he had been called down by one or two teachers for not asking enough questions). So, really, he should have thought twice about answering Dudley when he asked, "What are you even staring at?"

Certainly should have thought twice about answering with "Figuring out which spell I should use to set the bushes on fire."

Dudley dropped his ice cream at that—must have really shook him. "You wouldn't."

"I would," Harry said, emboldened by Dudley's reaction and his own recollection of Hagrid's advice before boarding the train, about not letting his relatives know he wasn't allowed to do magic over the holidays. "Or I could turn the bushes into a great big dragon, or make them get up and walk—"

"Y-you wouldn't—mummy and daddy would be so mad—"

"Not if I had a bunch of walking talking bushes to protect me."

Oh wow Dudley had gone a very impressive color—Harry didn't think he had ever seen a whiter shade of pale.

Which had been the last straw in making Harry gesture at the bushes. "Treeguardius entus maximus!"

Snips, having also spotted the eyes in the bushes and having dove in to investigate, chose this moment to send up a screeching ruckus, rattling several branches and sending Dudley screaming into the house.

Harry took this opportunity to grab the ice cream Dudley had dropped, gestured Snips over as he started licking in earnest.

"Better get a good mouthful now," Harry counseled. "We're probably going to lose dinner over that stunt."

They did.

Possibly the only reason Harry wasn't punished more severely was because his cupboard under the stairs had his things in it and the Dursleys were too busy getting everything ready for that business meeting. Harry was dragged up to his room and locked in—something he didn't have too many complaints about, except for being sweaty and dirty. He managed to rub the worst of it off with his shirt and change into some fresh clothes, constantly shushing Snips and Hedwig's indignant racket.

Hedwig had glared at him, but Snips had refused, had made enough noise that Uncle Vernon stormed in.

"I thought I told you to shut up that bloody owl!" Vernon hissed.

"Um," Harry noised, quickly throwing his dirty shirt on Snips to hide him (and quietly apologizing). "She's…mad…because she's stuck here." A moment where he should have kept his tongue—"After all, this place isn't fit for man or beast."

Vernon clocked him one, started warming up his tirade about how put-upon they were to take care of Harry—was cut short by Petunia announcing the guests.

Instead, Harry was treated to a finger in his face and a sharp growl. "Not one. Single. Noise. Do you hear me?"

Harry nodded, not trusting himself at the moment—Vernon grunted, stormed out, slamming the door behind him—Harry winced, heard the door lock. Yay.

On the positive side, he had every intention of staying quiet—now to convince his roommates.

In retrospect, he really should have sent them with Ron.

"Sorry," Harry said, pulling the shirt off of Snips, who hissed indignantly. "Now hush—if Uncle Vernon finds you, he'll squash you. You don't want that, now do you?"

Snips huffed, crossing his wings tightly and looking away. Harry sighed, figuring that was the best he was going to get, tossed his shirt away with the intent of opening the window and crawling into bed.

"Oof!"

That made Harry and Snips both look in alarm, because there was nothing else in the room that really should have made noise—

Harry blinked at the odd creature pulling his shirt off its head, and reflected that his evening was about to go sideways in a most horrible fashion. He didn't know how, it just seemed like it would.

Mostly because he usually didn't get strange little creatures that identified themselves as "Dobby the House Elf" as visitors to his room, nor was he used to anyone devolving into a blubbering mess just from being asked to sit down please, or beat themselves for nearly saying things they said they shouldn't.

It was enough to get Vernon back in his room, hissing and spitting that Harry was on some very. Thin. Ice. Thin enough that Harry knew he was doomed even if the rest of the evening went smoothly.

It got worse when Dobby said that "Harry Potter mustn't go back to Hogwarts!"

"What? No," Harry said flatly, gesturing to the door. "Did you see that? That big brute that was just in here? I have to go back!"

"No!" Dobby insisted. "Harry Potter is in terrible danger!"

"I'm in terrible danger here—Dobby—" Wince at Snips' bite, look—the little bat-thing fluffed his feathered crest out, jumped up and down with a paw raised in passible imitation of Hermione before pointing at Dobby.

Harry thought he got the message—ask about him. "Dobby…what, exactly, do you do? I mean, what do house elves do? How are they treated?"

"House elves tend to their families, Harry Potter sir," Dobby said. "Dobby cooks and cleans and is expected to do all without ever alerting the family to his presence, sir."

"And what you're wearing?" Harry asked, when Snips tugged on his shirt.

"Tis the mark of a house elf's enslavement, sir—a house elf cannot go free unless they are presented with clothes." Sniff. "My family is careful to not even give me a stray sock."

"And if you do something wrong?"

"Dobby must punish himself, sir!"

Harry pointed at the door again. "I'm a house elf here, Dobby—the only difference is I don't go free if I get clothes."

"Surely not, Mr. Harry Potter sir!"

"Trust me Dobby—whatever's at Hogwarts, I can handle it. Being here would be worse."

Dobby shook his head. "No no no—Harry Potter would be in mortal peril at Hogwarts!"

Mortal peril? "And would it affect just me? I have friends there, Dobby—won't they be in danger?"

"Friends who don't even write to Harry Potter?"

Harry didn't need Snips going still on his shoulder to alert him to the issue. "How would you know that?"

Dobby hesitated—pulled out a ridiculously thick bundle of letters. Harry picked out letters from Ron, Hermione, Hagrid—even one or two from Neville and Professor Slughorn. "Dobby thought—if Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten him, he wouldn't want to go back."

Harry wasn't exactly sure what to call the emotions going through him at the moment, just that his voice was very calm. "Give me my letters, Dobby."

"No—Harry Potter must stay away from Hogwarts!"

"Dobby—"

Snips apparently had enough—shot off Harry's shoulder with a screech, lit into Dobby, tail wrapping around the string binding the letters as he flapped frantically, snipping and squawking indignantly—

"No!" Harry hissed, trying to grab Snips away from a shrieking Dobby. "Snips, stop it—"

Vernon banged the door open.

Harry—and Snips and Dobby, and even Hedwig in her cage, he was vaguely aware—froze. Glance at the situation, at the color Vernon was turning—

"This wasn't my—" Harry started to say.

Harry's next clear recollection was looking up at the ceiling, Dobby and Snips fretting over him.

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"The walrus man struck Harry Potter sir!" Dobby wailed, keeping his voice down this time. "I made him leave, but oh that was dreadful to see!"

Harry managed to sit up, leaned against the nearest wall. "So you see why I can't stay here."

Dobby nodded, wringing his ears. "But Harry Potter can't go back to Hogwarts!"

"Yes, I can," Harry insisted. "Whatever it is, I can figure it out with my friends—if the danger is at Hogwarts, then my friends will be in danger too—or have you been popping into houses and warning everyone else too?"

"Harry Potter is as noble as they say, putting his friends' lives over his own!"

"It's not that drastic," Harry said. "It's called caring for others."

Dobby glanced at the door, seemingly at a crisis. "Harry Potter mustn't go back to Hogwarts, but Harry Potter can't stay here!"

"I know," Harry said—looked down at Snip's barking.

Once he was assured of the attention, Snips pulled a letter out of the bundle—one from Ron.

Whom, Harry recalled, had offered for Harry to come spend the summer at his place.

"Here!" Harry said, snatching the letter and holding it out to Dobby. "My friend Ron's place—can you get me and my stuff there? I'll be safe there, his family's a bunch of wizards—and you have to at least let me warn my friends about Hogwarts, please, Dobby."

Dobby hesitated—searched Harry's face….

Nodded finally.

Harry gusted a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Dobby—my stuff's under the stairs." Hesitate—"Um, can you get me out of here?"

"Of course sir—I'm an elf," Dobby said, like this was commonplace knowledge.

Harry nodded, beaming. "Thank you, Dobby—I promise, if you do this for me I'll be extra-extra careful."

"And not go back to Hogwarts?"

"I can't promise that one, Dobby—but I will promise that I'll tell Professor Dumbledore as soon as I can—if anyone can stop horrible things happening at the school, he can."

Dobby fidgeted, glanced at Snips growling at him—nodded finally. "Dobby will be right back with Harry Potter's things."

"Thanks—" Wince when Dobby disappeared with a crack.

"He's probably not coming back, is he?" Harry asked Snips, who shrugged.

The answer came moments later when Dobby appeared again, this time sitting on Harry's school trunk.

"Is this all of Harry Potter's things?" Dobby asked.

"All that matters," Harry said, gathering up the letters, Snips, and Hedwig's cage. "Um, how does this work?"

Dobby patted the trunk, indicating that Harry sit next to him. Harry did so, gave the room one last cursory glance to make sure he didn't miss anything.

And then blinking in disorientation when—one sharp crack later—he found himself outside, in the dark, looking up at a building that had to be held together with Divine Ordinance and positive thinking. Also possibly magic.

"This is the Weasley house, sir," Dobby said—squeaked in surprise when Harry hugged him.

"Thank you, Dobby," Harry said, with feeling—and then had to calm Dobby down when Dobby started sobbing about having done the great Harry Potter a favor.

Dobby finally left when he said his family was summoning him—Harry told him to be careful and assured him he'd do the same. Square his shoulders—drag his trunk up to what looked like the door (but you never knew with wizard houses, he supposed).

Ron answered on the third round of knocking.

"Blimey! Harry!" Ron yelped.

"So I'm really hoping one of your letters said it was all right to come over," Harry said, getting ready to launch into an apology for coming so late and with no advanced warning.

Fred cut him off. "Merlin's beard, Harry! What happened to you?"

Harry really had no idea how this must look, him standing there in the dead of night with his school trunk, owl cage, and nearly a month of letters in hand. "It's a long story."

The boys parted to let their mother through—Molly Weasley looked him up and down sharply before herding him in.

"You can get started over tea," she informed him.