After lunch, Mrs. Weasley put the boys to work degnoming the garden while Mr. Weasley puttered around in his shed. Ginny and her mother were going to the village to finish their shopping. Before they left, Harry made a trip to the bathroom and then ran up to his room. Before stowing the moneybag he extracted a handful of coins. When he came back down, Mrs. Weasley was alone, putting away the last of the dishes.

“Here,” he said, handing her some galleons.

She frowned.

“It’s for my share of the food this week,” he said.

“Harry, you don’t need to do that,” she protested.

He sighed. “Mrs. Weasley, you did promise, remember?”

“Harry, that’s very nice, but it’s really not necessary.”

Harry frowned. He didn’t think he was going to have to re-fight this battle. “Mrs. Weasley, I appreciate everything you and your husband have done for me. But I’m really not going to feel comfortable about staying here if you won’t let me help out a bit.”

The matriarch of the Weasley clan gave him a long, measuring look. “Why is this so upsetting to you, Harry?”

He debated using his trump card, but his desire to avoid repeating this argument every week squashed his sense of fair play. “Well, my aunt and uncle were always after me about being a freeloader. I couldn’t tell them about my vault, or else they’d have taken it all, but it always stung that they were just a little bit right about me.”

Mrs. Weasley’s face got a little red, and her mouth opened to say something. But she stopped herself and took a deep breath. “All right, Harry, if it will make you feel better, but only two galleons. I don’t think you realize how much a galleon is worth, but that is more than enough to cover what you could possibly eat.”

“Money sitting in a vault isn’t doing anyone any good,” he replied, shrugging.

“Harry, you might need that money some day. You really need to think about your future.”

“I do,” he said softly. He was proud that there was no tremor in his voice, but she still looked at him oddly. He beat a hasty retreat to the garden and began flinging gnomes with Ron and the twins. Percy begged off, saying he had something to work on, and stayed up in his room. That would later prove to be a mistake.

“So, what do you plan?” Ron asked Harry as he spun a gnome around and heaved it over the hedge.

Harry blinked. “What do you mean?” He’d been eying a beetle crawling through the dirt with some suspicion. Fortunately, it didn’t have any unusual markings around its eyes.

“About Percy.”

“Ron, full sentences and the Queen’s English, please,” Harry said as he grabbed another gnome.

The youngest Weasley boy rolled his eyes while his older brothers snickered. “What are you planning to do to get even with Percy?”

“For what?”

“Harry,” Ron said, aghast. “He ratted you out to Mum and Dad!”

Harry shrugged, uncomfortable at being reminded about the scene with Mr. Weasley. “Well, I was being kind of stupid.”

“You didn’t do anything that bad,” Ron disagreed. “Besides, that prat couldn’t wait to get you in trouble! If you aren’t going to do anything about, then I will. He gets away with that, he’ll be worse on the rest of us.”

Harry was a little surprised. He remembered the tension between Percy and his family, and how he never really got on very well with his brothers. He hadn’t realized that the rift ran back this far or this deep. He pondered this until his thoughts were interrupted by the twins.

“While normally we’d agree–“

“-- with anything that involves punishment–“

“-- for Perfect Prefect Percy–“

“Impressive, that. Can you say it three times fast?”

“Back on topic o’ brother of mine!”

“Right, sorry. While normally we’d agree–“

“We can’t let you do it, Ron.”

Ron scowled at the twins. “And why not?”

“Because ickle Gin-Gin called it first.”

“Brings a tear to my eye, George.”

“That it does, Fred.”

“Ginny?” Ron asked incredulously.

“If you didn’t notice,” Fred said, fixing Ron with a gimlet eye. “Mum gave her a bit of a talking to while they were clearing up and Harry was upstairs. She went on about how Ginny needs to not encourage Harry to take her places and not take advantage of him being a nice bloke.”

Harry winced, thinking about the wand he’d bought her. Mrs. Weasley didn’t know about it. Not yet.

“By the time Mum was done with her,” George continued, “Ginny looked like she was going to cry. So when she followed us out here, we were prepared to offer brotherly comfort.”

“Of course, she wanted none of that,” Fred chuckled. “She’d just put on a face like a wet weekend to satisfy Mum. She came out to see us on calling dibs, and for some… er,”

“Technical advice?” George supplied helpfully.

“Yes, quite,” Fred agreed. “Anyway, I took her up to our room and we discussed some possibilities.”

“While I distracted Mum,” George interjected.

“And quite nicely too,” Fred agreed amiably. “Anyway, she gets first shot at the berk. Now, if she muddles it–“

“Fat chance of that, o brother of mine.”

“Indubitably; but if she does, then we’ll let you take a crack at him.”

“How come you two aren’t queuing up for the opportunity?” Harry asked, grinning for the first time since he’d returned from Diagon Alley.

“Well, it’s not much fun anymore–“

“Not terribly much anyway. We’ve done–

“Just about everything we can think of.”

“Though if a new opportunity shows itself–“

“--rest assured we will pursue it post-haste.”

Harry chuckled as they returned to routing the gnomes from Mrs. Weasley’s vegetables. When they were done, they got their broomsticks out and played a little two on two Quidditch. While Harry was a good flier, he couldn’t throw a Quaffle to save his life. The twins absolutely destroyed him and Ron.

It didn’t help that Harry often found his eyes wandering toward the two-track lane that eventually led to the village. He wasn’t completely aware of what he was doing until he saw a heavily-laden Mrs. Weasley and Ginny return. A heartfelt sigh of relief made Harry chide himself for his paranoia.

They reluctantly called a halt to the game as the light failed. Locking the brooms up in the shed, the four of them walked back to The Burrow. Harry noticed Ginny was rather quiet through dinner, though she did shoot a few glares Percy’s way. He wasn’t sure if anyone else noticed, but the normally boisterous family was a trifle subdued.

He jumped up to help Ginny clear the dishes, avoiding Mrs. Weasley’s eye. Unfortunately, Ginny didn’t say much either, and when they were done she retired to the couch with a book. Harry let Ron talk him into a game of Wizarding Chess.

Harry’s abysmal play rose to new heights of incompetence that evening. Between his resentment over the aftermath of the Diagon Alley trip and Ginny’s silent treatment, he was barely able to remember how the pieces moved. After losing his queen, Harry stretched, twisting his neck back and forth. That gave him an excuse to look toward the couch. Ginny looked up just then and their eyes met. She frowned and looked down at her book.

Three moves later was checkmate. Harry shook his head when Ron asked him if he wanted a re-match. He went upstairs to go to bed.

~+~

Instead of biting back a scream, Harry awoke with a sad sigh. He stared up at the ceiling of Ron’s room and blinked rapidly. His dream had been a replay of his last conversation with Ginny, the night after Bill and Fleur’s wedding.

His reasoning had been so sure, so logical. The fact that he didn’t want to leave her was just his own selfish desire, right? She’d be in horrible danger if Voldemort knew how much he loved her. She couldn’t Apparate yet and was too young to even practice it legally. He wouldn’t be able to concentrate if she was in danger.

All those were valid reasons why he left her there at The Burrow. In the end, his head told him he was doing the right thing while his heart was breaking into pieces. The sight of her standing there, her heart in her eyes but refusing to cry was burned into his memory. He said goodbye and kissed her softly, promising to return to her. And then he left her, and all his dreams, behind.

He’d tried not to cry then, but now he let the tears come. He wept silently for what had been lost, and raged at himself for his stupidity. He’d let her down that day, and she died slowly, painfully, knowing he’d broken his promise to her.

Harry rolled onto his side and curled up into a ball. He couldn’t stop shaking — the dream had felt so real that he wondered if his entire journey into the past had just been an elaborate delusion. Had he truly died in the scorched ruins of number four, Privet Drive? Maybe hell is coming back and realizing that these weren’t the same people, not really.

He had no logical reason to expect this Ginny to understand him. True, she’d been one of the few people to truly know him in the future, but that Ginny was dead and gone. Even his efforts to intervene were making this one different.

Harry gritted his teeth, disgusted with the tide of self-pity he found himself wallowing in. This wasn’t about him, this was about them — making the people he cared about safe in this reality. When all was said and done, and all his manipulations were revealed, they’d likely want nothing more to do with him. He was no better than Dumbledore, manipulating the people around him ‘for the greater good’ without consulting them first. He remembered how angry he’d been when he first heard the entire prophecy. He had no idea at the time that he’d eventually prove to be a complete hypocrite.

Anger did what no amount of self-control could do, and dammed the flow of tears. Eventually his breathing slowed and he got control of himself.

Well, there’s no way in hell I’m getting back to sleep after that, Harry thought with a sigh and pulled on his dressing gown. He slipped out of the room and down the stairs to the hall bath to wash his face. That made him feel better, but even more wide awake.

The clock in the hallway told him it was nearing four in the morning. Sitting and listening to Ron snore for hours was not how he wanted to start the day. He ended up heading down to the sitting room again, hoping he could at least stretch out on the couch.

Padding down the stairs, he took special pains to avoid the loose stair right below Ginny’s landing. He didn’t want to wreck her sleep two nights running; she seemed annoyed enough at him already.

Like before, the darkened sitting room seemed oddly peaceful. He sat on the couch and took a deep breath, trying to relax. He was finally starting to loosen up a little when he noticed hints of motion outside the darkened windows.

Harry was on his feet in an instant, pulling the wand from inside his dressing gown. He kept the lights off as he crept up to the door. He eased the ancient latch open slowly enough to avoid any noise and slipped outside. The grass was slightly damp under his bare feet as he slipped around the garden and toward the orchard. Something large was moving quickly through the air, but it wasn’t until it flashed past a patch of dimming moonlight that he saw a flash of red and made the connection.

Harry sighed, releasing the breath he’d been holding. He turned and started walking toward the door when he heard a gasp. “H-harry?” Cursing silently, he turned back around.

She hovered above him, wearing a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, the moon painting silvery highlights in her hair. This isn’t my Ginny, Harry reminded himself again. But he knew that wasn’t completely true. If the words of his future self were honest, then he was still partially of this reality, and this was partially ‘his’ Ginny. But that still didn’t mean she would mean the same to him, would it?

His thoughts chased one another as he stared at her, barely registering when she brought her brother’s broom to the ground. It was only the stricken and guilty look on her face that snapped him out of his reverie. “I-I told you I borrowed my brother’s brooms sometimes, so I would at least know how to fly before I got to Hogwarts. D-don’t worry, I wouldn’t touch yours.”

Harry frowned in confusion. “Go ahead and use the Nimbus if you want, I don’t mind.”

“No!” she snapped and shook her head violently. She sniffed quietly and Harry realized she was suppressing tears. She picked angrily at a splinter on the end of the broom handle.

“What did your Mum say, Ginny?” he asked softly.

She looked at him sharply, lips pressed together in a tight line that reminded him of Professor McGonagall.

“The twins don’t miss much,” he explained. “I won’t hold her words against you. Did she blame you for us not staying at Gringotts?”

She nodded and took a deep breath. “All right, if you must know… she said that I shouldn’t take advantage of you. She said you lost your parents when you were a baby, and now you’d lost another family, and that you were in this, you know, fragile state. She said that you had to be desperately lonely and that you would do anything to have people that cared about you. She said you probably saw your money as a way to get people to like you, and that you were likely to offer to spend it on us to ‘make sure we liked you’ after the way the Dursleys treated you. She-she said I was an awful person if I took advantage of that.”

“And you immediately thought about the wand.” It wasn’t a question.

She nodded. “I didn’t say anything because I knew you’d be mad I told… and I didn’t want to start another row right after Dad talked to you. But I feel really guilty now. I never should have let you…”

“Bollocks!” Harry snapped. He knew Mrs. Weasley meant well, but she’d really hurt Ginny with her words. “Are you a whore?”

Ginny’s head snapped up and for a moment Harry thought she was going to slap him. Still, angry Ginny was easier for him to deal with than that stricken look she’d been wearing. “How can you say such a thing?” she hissed.

“Are you for sale?” he asked coldly. “Because the girl I’ve been writing to all last year isn’t. She didn’t write all those letters complaining about having old clothes, or trying to get me to buy her presents. You helped me at King’s Cross and agreed to write when I was just another scroungy-looking first year. It was my idea to leave Gringotts and it was my idea to get you a new wand. Your Mum was right about some things and dead wrong about others. Maybe I am lonely. Maybe I do think you Weasleys are a brilliant lot. Most of the time, anyway. But I’m not daft enough to think I can buy you off… at least not with Galleons.”

Ginny swallowed, her anger forgotten. “What do you mean by that?” she asked, her voice little more than a whisper.

“A different type of coin is needed… friendship, caring, trust — though I haven’t done too well with the last one it seems.” He frowned. “Ginny, if you hadn’t pushed your brothers to come get me when you did, there’s a good chance I’d be dead right now. I made a mistake and almost paid for it with my life, only you and your brothers saved me from my own stupidity. Next to that, a pile of galleons means nothing at all. Please, Ginny, don’t let what your Mum said make you second-guess yourself. I trust you, so please trust yourself.”

She let out a sigh, but he noticed her shoulders relaxed a bit. “You know Mum is going to pitch a fit when she sees that wand.”

“I’ll deal with it.”

“Dad will probably agree with her.”

Harry sighed. “He was right when he got after me yesterday. But I think I can handle it if I know I’m in the right this time.”

She looked at him curiously.

Harry smiled. “If we were at Hogwarts, and you saw someone sneaking up behind me with a wand, getting ready to curse me, what would you do?”

“I found this spell written on the flyleaf of one of Uncle Gideon’s old schoolbooks. It’s called the Bat-Bogey Hex and it sounds absolutely gruesome… I figure I might try that out on them.”

Harry smiled, nodding. “And that’s what I’ll argue. Your parents and I have a little agreement we made while I was in St. Mungo’s regarding security expenses. I think I can skate on that.”

Ginny looked thoughtful. “This is all rather odd, isn’t it? Are you really expecting that many problems?” Her voice took on a slightly worried tone. It hurt, a little, to hear it coming from such a young girl.

Harry sighed. “We never did get to have that long talk with Ron yesterday, did we? We definitely need to make the time for it today. Have you been up all night?”

Ginny shrugged. “Almost. I got a couple of hours, but I wasn’t sleeping well.” She looked at Harry’s pyjamas and dressing gown. “You’re up early as well. Do you have trouble sleeping?”

“A bit,” Harry agreed ruefully. “It’s sort of tied in with other things.” Ginny looked confused but didn’t press. “Are you hungry? If you want to stow that broom, I can throw something together.”

Ginny nodded happily and Harry went inside and turned up the lamps in the kitchen.

~+~

Mrs. Weasley was a little shocked when she came downstairs to find breakfast almost ready. Harry waved off her protests, saying he wanted to practice some of the household magic Ginny had been teaching him about. Most magical stoves required a tap from a wand to activate, which protected young children, but since it didn’t involve actual spell-casting it didn’t count as under-age magic.

Harry cracked a couple of eggs into the frying pan, and then pulled a tray of muffins from the oven as the yolks sizzled. Ginny poured her mother a glass of chilled pumpkin juice. She’d had time to cool off from their conversation, and it probably helped that he’d reassured her that he didn’t think Mrs. Weasley had said those things to be hurtful.

Working together to prepare a meal had been a strangely comforting experience. Cooking for the Dursleys had been a solitary occupation, save for when his aunt decided to stand over him and criticize his efforts or yell at him to go faster. Ginny worked around him as he manned the stove, handing him ingredients as he needed them and bringing food to the table as soon as he’d plated it up. All the while she sang along with the Wizarding Wireless Network under her breath. Not once did they get in each other’s way nor was there a single miscue during their strange duet. Harry found it oddly relaxing and a small part of him began looking forward to the Yule Ball.

The other Weasleys gave him some odd looks as they came down. Mr. Weasley was rather amused, and peppered Harry with questions about Muggle cooking. Percy just blinked at his mother’s fond smile and sat down, frowning. The twins sniggered at “ickle Harrikins and Gin-Gin” until Ginny ‘accidentally’ spilled a gout of hot tea on Fred’s lap. Ron looked at Harry thoughtfully, then shook his head and scowled.

“What’s the matter?” Harry asked Ron quietly as he and Ginny finally sat down with their plates.

“How long you been up, mate?”

Harry shrugged. “A few hours.”

“You’re not sleeping again, are you?”

“I’m fine, Ron,” Harry said flatly.

“No, you’re bloody well not!” Ron snapped, his voice raising.

“Ronald Bilius! Language!” Mrs. Weasley scolded.

“Harry, tell Mum how much sleep you’ve really been getting.”

“I’m getting enough,” Harry said defensively. “I did hardly anything but sleep at St. Mungo’s.”

“Well, what was your excuse at school then?”

Harry opened his mouth to retort when Mr. Weasley cut in. “Let’s not argue at the table. Harry and Ginny worked hard to make us all a nice breakfast, let’s not waste that squabbling.”

Ron looked down at his eggs as the table grew quiet. The silence was broken only by the clink of silverware on plates, until Percy let out a sudden cough.

The third oldest Weasley son’s eyes had gone wide behind his horn-rimmed spectacles. They bulged as he let out a high-pitched squeak and he leapt awkwardly to his feet. Percy ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs with an odd, stiff-legged gait.

The twins looked at each other and started sniggering. Mrs. Weasley glared at them, but they just shrugged and tried to look innocent. Ron looked confused and Mr. Weasley just ignored it. It wasn’t until Harry caught a ghost of a smile on Ginny’s lips that he got an inkling of what happened.

Percy returned to the table several minutes later, red-faced and refusing to speak. Mrs. Weasley let him be after a couple of minutes and they finished Sunday breakfast in peace. Harry automatically began clearing the dishes when they were done, but Mrs. Weasley shooed everyone out of the kitchen.

Harry caught Ron’s eye and motioned for the boy to follow him. Ginny tagged along as well. Harry picked up a small black book from the end-table in the living room before heading out the door. Ron looked questioningly at his sister, but she ignored him as Harry led them out to the orchard.

It was a pleasant morning. The sun was shining and there was a light breeze blowing. Harry thought about the ever-present storm clouds that hovered over the ruins of Hogwarts and shuddered.

They sat down on the gnarled roots of an ancient apple tree. This patriarch of the grove had a small clearing around it, and its boughs spread wide enough to offer plenty of shade. Harry looked around closely, but didn’t see anyone else around. The fact that Rita Skeeter had been out here yesterday made him nervous, but he didn’t see any strangely attentive beetles either. Ignoring the odd looks he was getting from Ron and Ginny, Harry closed his eyes and rubbed his temples like he had a headache. He focused on his Legilimency, casting around him for any other minds. Ron’s presence was radiating a bit of anxiety, but Ginny’s was oddly serene. Harry pulled back sharply, wary of invading their privacy.

“Harry?” Ron’s voice made him open his eyes. He didn’t really have any business getting frustrated with his friend. He was keeping a lot from him, and what he did reveal would have anyone with half a brain worried.

“All right. Yes, Ron, there is something going on. There is a lot going on. I want to tell you both about it, but I can’t right now. It’s not,” he said quickly seeing Ron start to scowl, “a matter of whether I trust you. I do. I trust the two of you as much as I trust anyone. I know you’d never willingly betray me or repeat anything I told you in confidence. It’s more a matter of whether you’d be allowed to keep those secrets.”

Harry held up the book, Occlumency: the Hidden Arte. “Hermione came through for us. She figured out what Snape has been doing. It’s called Legilimency, and it lets him read minds, and go through peoples’ memories. That’s how they found out about the restricted section.”

Ron sat back on his haunches. “But I thought Professor Dumbledore warned you off?”

“I think they are both in on it, or at least sharing information. I’ve also gotten that weird feeling around Dumbledore at times. It stopped when I started freaking out and mentioned that I was thinking about moving to France and transferring to Beauxbatons.”

Ron looked sick. “Dumbledore? He, he wouldn’t do that…” his voice trailed off.

Ginny’s eyes had gone wide and she appeared to be even more upset. “You’d do that?” she whispered. “Move to France, I mean?”

Harry kicked himself. He looked her square in the eyes and tried to give her an encouraging smile. “Not unless I could take you all with me,” he joked. “I was bluffing.”

“How can you bluff someone who can read your mind?” Ron asked, shaking himself.

“Because he can’t read mine,” Harry explained. “Something in my past has made it almost impossible to use Legilimency against me.” Like me learning Occlumency, he thought as they glanced at his scar.

“So will that book make it possible for us to block him out as well?”

“I hope so.”

“Good, the idea of that greasy git poking his big hooked nose around in my head is right disgusting.”

Ginny spoke up. “How will we know when we are doing it right?”

“Well, I’m going to be working on Legilimency, and seeing how good I can get with that. If I’m doing well with it, and I can’t get past your Occlumency, then you are probably safe.”

“Right. Then let’s get started,” Ron said firmly.

That was easier than I though it would be, Harry reflected as he opened the book to a page he’d marked with a scrap of parchment. His friends were very attentive as he began explaining meditation and the exercises they would use to organize their minds.

~+~

The exercises were difficult, and by the time they went inside for lunch, Ron and Ginny both seemed to be nursing headaches. The methods of teaching used in the book were far different from his tutelage with Snape, but Harry couldn’t help but imagine they would make better progress than he did.

Lunch was unusually quiet, with Ron and Ginny almost wholly engrossed in their food, and Harry in a pensive mood as well. Percy had evidently decided to eat in his room, and Mrs. Weasley seemed to alternate between being proud of his dedication to his studies and concerned he was working too hard. She asked absent-mindedly what Harry and Ron had been up to.

“Project for school,” Harry answered quickly. “Something Hermione came up with.”

“Is she that Muggle-born witch in your year?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

“Yeah, she’s insanely clever, too,” Harry answered.

“I’m glad you all did so well in your studies,” she said. “That goes for you as well, Ronald,” she added when her youngest began to colour slightly. “I hope Ginny will follow your example this fall.”

Harry shrugged. “We were all within a couple of points of each other. I think Ginny will easily do as well, if not better. Hermione takes the best notes and she keeps everything, so she’ll already have first year in the bag.”

Ginny’s eyes got wide, but Mrs. Weasley frowned. “I’m not sure that would be entirely appropriate,” she said in a disapproving voice.

“I don’t think anyone should be forced to sit through any more of Professor Binns’ lectures than strictly necessary. Besides, it’s an accepted practice in Muggle schools and it’ll free up time for other projects. There are a lot of subjects covered in the Hogwarts’ Library that never even get mentioned in the regular classes.”

Mr. Weasley smiled slightly at the mention of the ghost who taught History of Magic. Harry wondered if the man had been teaching when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley attended Hogwarts, and if he’d been a ghost then. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt, as long as Ginny did her own home work. What sort of projects are you talking about?”

“Well,” Harry said quickly, “right now were working on an independent study project dealing with magical defences and means of detection. Hermione found an old book that we’re studying to see what modern applications it may have. Nothing too spectacular,” he added in a bored tone, “but potentially interesting.”

Fortunately, that proved to be enough to reassure Mrs. Weasley and they made it through lunch. What he didn’t count on was Fred and George. No sooner were he, Ginny, and Ron settling down around the tree than the twins walked up, smiling.

“Very smooth, ickle Harrikins. Wasn’t it, Fred?”

“Twas indeed, oh brother of mine,” Fred replied.

“You eased that one right by Mum–“

“--but not us. So out with it.”

Harry eyed the twins for a moment. He hadn’t gotten to know them too well until almost his fourth year, but the way things were escalating this time… There was also the fact that they’d saved his neck in that last Quidditch match. He let out a sigh, hoping he wouldn’t regret this later. “You two ever notice how hard it is to pull the wool over Snape’s eyes?”

“Right suspicious bastard he is,” George agreed.

“Makes it more of a challenge!” Fred responded with a grin.

“I think it’s more than that,” Harry said, gesturing with the book. “We noticed a few things, but Hermione put it all together. Snape’s using a special type of magic called Legilimency that lets him read minds and go through your memories. He used it one too many times and gave himself away, so she found this book on Occlumency. Among other things, mastering Occlumency will help you protect against mental assaults like Legilimency.”

“Hermione Granger figured all of that out?” George asked, eyebrows rising.

“We have got to recruit her, oh brother of mine!” Fred chortled. “With her brains, can you imagine the pranks we’d pull?”

“You leave her alone!” Ron snapped, scowling.

The twins jumped and gave their younger brother a long look. Harry was a little surprised as well. The Ron he remembered wouldn’t have given himself away like that, not even under threat of Cruciatus. Of course, Ron was acting a lot more protective, both toward Harry and others. Was he just embracing that whole ‘Gryffindors take care of their own’ thing, or was this something deeper?

“Looks like Ron wants to thrash us,” George said slowly.

“Think he fancies her a bit?” Fred asked slyly.

Harry decided to take a gamble. “Well of course he does. Not that you two had a chance. She wanted to hex you for giving him that fake spell to turn Scabbers yellow.” Ron’s face went almost purple and he was unable to speak. Ginny’s eyes danced merrily, but a pleading glance from Harry made her keep her silence. “Speaking of dirty tricks,” he said, changing the subject, “what happened to Percy this morning?”

Ginny’s grin became wider. “Nothing much… I just borrowed a defective potion from Fred.”

George looked at his twin. “That shrinking solution that didn’t brew right?”

Fred shrugged. “It works if you get it warm enough, that’s why we saved it from Snape.”

“Not that we’ve found a use for it,” George said sceptically.

Fred shrugged. “So I let Ginny have it. If she finds a use, she owes us a favour.”

“Which I think was more than paid off by this morning’s entertainment,” she replied tartly.

Ron couldn’t contain himself any more. “But what did you do with it?” he asked in a plaintive tone.

Ginny shrugged theatrically. “I soaked a pair of his grundies with it. Body heat was more than enough to activate it.”

The glade went dead silent as the boys cringed.

“It doesn’t pay to get scrotty with the person that does your laundry, now does it?” Ginny asked loftily.

“Well Ron, do you still think Percy needs further punishment?” Harry asked slyly. Ron shook his head silently, looking a bit green. George didn’t say anything, but handed a sickle to a smug-looking Fred.

“Well, now that’s settled, how do we go about stopping Snape from buggering around in our brains?” Fred asked.

Harry smiled and opened the book as the twins sat down cross-legged on the grass. “The first step is learning to meditate. It’s a special form of concentration…”

~+~

Harry felt pretty good about their progress that afternoon. Ron and especially Ginny were a little discouraged, but he knew that the first stages were slow going for people who had no background in the mental disciplines. The twins were naturally competitive, and welcomed any sort of learning that would improve their pranking capabilities.

Working with his friends reminded Harry of his time leading the DA. Working with students, teaching them duelling techniques and curses had been oddly satisfying. In the quieter moments of the second war, Harry wondered if he’d have made a good teacher. Perhaps in a kinder, quieter world with no prophecies and no Dark Lords, he might have.

He felt a nudge in his ribs. “All right, Harry?” Ron asked.

Harry shook his head ruefully. “Just daydreaming.”

After dinner they moved to the sitting room and continued working on the meditation exercises. Each of them had a book open in their laps, and Mrs. Weasley looked on approvingly. Harry tapped into his Legilimency a few times to check, and was dismayed at the volume of thoughts and emotions still radiating from them. He wondered if growing up in a place like The Burrow might make it harder for them to learn to conceal their thoughts. By the time they went to bed, Harry wasn’t the only one who had a headache.

Monday morning they woke up early as planned. As he and Ron crept down the stairs in their sweats, Harry was pleased to see Ginny sitting in the kitchen with a glass of pumpkin juice. She was dressed in a t-shirt and shorts and rubbing her eyes with her knuckles. “Morning Ginny,” he said quietly.

She jumped, almost knocking over her juice, but smiled blearily at him. “M-m-morning Harry,” she yawned.

Ron just grunted and got a drink of water before heading out the door. Harry and Ginny followed him out for the morning run.

After Harry pointed out the likelihood of Ginny needing to know how to defend herself, Ron’s objections faded away. That didn’t, however, stop him from setting a brutal pace. Harry was a little more careful with his leg this time, and kept an eye on Ginny as well.

Surprisingly, she kept up with little trouble. As she found her pace, her hair began to stream behind her like a crimson banner. Harry found himself slowing a little, allowing her to pass him. After they’d done a full circle of the property, Ron led them to the paddock. Harry slipped back into his instructor mode, and began showing Ginny the basic stances while Ron worked on his forms.

The youngest Weasley was an attentive student and Harry was pleased with her progress when he left her to practice and began sparring with Ron. His stay in the hospital was more than enough to give Ron an edge and Harry found himself really pushing himself to keep up. When he mistimed a block, Ron’s kick landed solidly and sent Harry staggering backwards with the wind knocked out of him.

Ginny looked outraged, but Harry just let out a wheezing chuckle. “Good one, mate.”

On the next exchange, Harry ducked under Ron’s punch and swept his feet out from under him. Ron let out a squawk as he tumbled to the ground. Nursing a bruise, his friend scowled as Harry went over how to fall without hurting one’s self. Surprisingly, Ginny was the first to get it right, but then again she was also smaller and lighter. Harry remembered how good she would be at Quidditch and smiled. 

The twins woke up in time to join them for Occlumency practice. When everyone began to get headaches, they switched back to martial arts. Harry didn’t know if alternating would help or not. He knew that some schools of martial arts advocated meditation as a means of centring oneself, but he didn’t know if that would apply in this situation or not. By late afternoon, everyone was exhausted, mentally and physically.

While Ron was napping, Harry opened his trunk and took out the thin box that contained Ginny’s new wand. He took a scrap of parchment and bit of string and wrapped the box up. Ginny’s birthday was tomorrow, the eleventh, and he wanted to have it ready in time for the party. He wasn’t looking forward to her mother’s reaction, but he knew they needed to get some things settled. His guardianship hearing at the Ministry was scheduled for the day after.

After dinner, they decided to forgo any more practicing. Ron settled for trouncing Harry at chess while Ginny watched with amusement. Mr. Weasley was stretched out near the fire, dozing with the Daily Prophet unfolded in his lap. He only stirred when a muffled boom echoed down the stairway from the twin’s room. Mrs. Weasley, knitting something out of blue yarn, just sighed and shook her head.

Harry stretched and yawned to hide a happy smile. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this comfortable. He tried not to think about the hearing. He hoped his wishes would be given some weight in the proceedings, but after finding out about Sirius he had little faith in the Ministry’s justice. His sleep that night was fitful at best.

Ginny’s eleventh birthday party was a small family affair, though that was a bit of an oxymoron where the Weasleys were concerned. Mrs. Weasley baked a huge cake. Ginny was smiling and blushing at being the centre of attention, and she didn’t seem to have a care in the world.

Ron got his sister a red and gold scarf ‘so she can wear it to Quidditch matches and cheer on Gryffindor’. Harry had to suppress a smile. He remembered her wearing it while playing for Gryffindor in her fifth year. Fred and George got her an old toy broom, sized about right for a toddler. She looked moderately annoyed until she found the three galleon coins stuck amongst the twigs, then she laughed realizing it was a joke. Percy got her a nice quill, for which she thanked him politely. Charlie sent her some tiny mittens with warming charms, along with a long note reminiscing about her visit to the dragon preserve. Bill sent her a scarab brooch that glinted oddly in the firelight.

When Ginny opened her present from Harry, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exchanged a look. Mrs. Weasley didn’t say anything, but her eyebrows creased together. At the twin’s urging, Ginny picked up the wand and waved it. A gout of red sparks poured from the end, sending motes of light bouncing through the kitchen. Fred and George cheered, but quickly subsided under their mother’s withering gaze.

When everyone finished their cake, Harry got up and helped clear the dishes before anyone could object. He wanted to make sure he stayed near Ginny before Mrs. Weasley started in on her. She gave each of her sons a look, and they excused themselves from the kitchen with slightly worried expressions. Ginny didn’t say anything, but Harry noticed the muscles at the back of her jaw tightening up. He felt Mrs. Weasley’s eyes on him, but Harry avoided her gaze as he collected the silverware.

Mr. Weasley didn’t look very pleased either, and as his eyes travelled from his wife to his daughter he let out a sigh. “That was quite a display wasn’t it?” he asked quietly.

Mrs. Weasley’s frown deepened. “Harry, if you’ll excuse us, we need to talk to Ginny.”

Harry finished rinsing off a plate and wiped his hands with a dish towel. “If this is about the wand, I don’t think that would be a good idea. I promised Ginny I would talk to you if there was a problem.”

Mrs. Weasley grimaced and gave her daughter a furious look before she turned back toward Harry. “Harry, I understand things have been difficult for you, but you mustn’t let-“

“I’m sorry you feel that I have been taken advantage of,” Harry interjected coldly. “It’s sad that you have so little faith in your daughter. After our discussion on Saturday, I was hoping we wouldn’t have to have another argument about the second item you and Mr. Weasley agreed to.”

Mrs. Weasley drew back like she’d been slapped. Mr. Weasley put a hand on her arm, but spoke to Harry in an even voice. “I don’t see how Ginny’s wand would be a security expense, Harry.”

“How much of a response did your grandmother’s wand give you, Ginny?”

Ginny wouldn’t meet her mother’s eyes. Instead she turned toward Harry and answered. “I got a couple of sparks out of it, once,” she said softly.

Harry nodded at her, smiling to reassure her, then turned back toward her parents. “Using a wand that isn’t attuned to her magic is possible, but it makes everything much more difficult. I don’t want her going to a place like Hogwarts with any kind of handicap — it simply isn’t safe.”

Mrs. Weasley shook her head, “Harry, it isn’t–“

Harry cut her off. “It isn’t that dangerous? I didn’t get my arm broken by a troll that was let into the castle? I didn’t have to kill a professor that was possessed by Voldemort to keep him from stealing the key to immortality?” He ignored their flinch at the mention of the Dark Lord’s name.

“But he’s gone now, you said-“

“He’s gone -- for now,” Harry agreed, cutting her off. “But Draco Malfoy is still there, with most of the Slytherins dancing to his tune. I’ve lost track of the number of times they’ve started something or tried to hurt me or one of my friends last year. He even had some of his friends assault Neville and Hermione on the Hogwarts Express coming back from Christmas holidays. If the Dursleys hadn’t destroyed the evidence, I’ll bet we’d find out that Draco or Lucius sent me those doxies to try and get me expelled from Hogwarts.”

Mrs. Weasley was looking even more upset. “But Professor Dumbledore said he has the situation under control.”

“I imagine he thought the situation with the Dursleys was under control as well,” Harry spat bitterly, making everyone flinch a little. Ginny’s face went red and he patted her arm. “It’s all right, but I don’t think Professor Dumbledore is really motivated to rein in the worst of the Slytherins. Maybe he’s afraid they’ll throw in completely with Voldemort if that happens.” He shrugged and smiled at Ginny. “Anyone that wants to hurt her is going to have to get through me and her brothers,” he said, ignoring the roughness in his voice. “But she’s even safer if she has a decent wand and can defend herself. That’s why we’re teaching her martial arts as well. If you make her take the wand back, I’ll just owl Ollivander and then give it to her again when we’re in school.”

Mrs. Weasley was speechless, but her face looked furious, both embarrassed and frustrated. Mr. Weasley squeezed her arm again. “You’ve given this a lot of thought,” he observed quietly.

Harry nodded. “Ever since we made our agreement in St. Mungo’s. I’ve also talked to my account manager at Gringotts about having a survey done of the wards here. They should be here after some time after the hearing is settled.” He turned directly toward Mrs. Weasley and looked her square in the eyes. “If you and your husband agree to the guardianship, then that’s going to paint a large target over this house and everyone in it. I shan’t blame you in the slightest if you change your mind about this. It’s been a wonderful break, staying here, and I’m sure whoever Dumbledore puts up to petitioning for my guardianship will be at least somewhat appropriate. If all of this, the security and everything else, is going to make you uncomfortable, now is the time to say something.” Harry steeled himself. He’d pretty much told the woman off, threatened her family and way of life, and then finally asked if she still wanted to adopt him.

Mrs. Weasley responded by getting up from the table and folding him and Ginny into a bone-crushing hug. He stiffened for a moment, and then shyly returned it. The angle he was at, he ended up slipping one arm around Mrs. Weasley and the other around Ginny’s waist.

“Well, since that’s settled,” Mr. Weasley said, “we should all try to get some sleep. We have an early meeting at the Ministry.”

~+~

Harry was dressed smartly in his new clothes and plain black robe when they arrived at the Ministry. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were also wearing their formal robes. The other Weasleys had wanted to attend, but Mr. Weasley felt it would be better if only he and his wife came to represent the family. Harry wondered about Draco’s cracks about the number of children they had. Did other Wizarding families look down on them for having a large family?

They rode the phone booth down to the lobby. Harry tried not to think about the duel between Dumbledore and Voldemort that wrecked the place. When they checked in their wands, the Auror on duty stared unabashed at Harry’s scar, irritating him.

When Mr. Weasley checked in at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, they received some unwelcome news. There had been a formal challenge filed, and the hearing had been moved to courtroom ten.

Mr. Weasley frowned as they hurried back to the lifts. “This means that some members of the Wizengamot will be in attendance,” he said. “They may have a trio serving as a judge’s panel.”

For his part, Harry tried to ignore the way his stomach began to turn at the mention of the new venue. He remembered being tried there for violations of the underage magic laws after a pair of dementors assaulted him and Dudley. It was also the first time he’d met that loathsome toad, Dolores Umbridge, who’d sent the dementors and even tried to torture him using the Cruciatus curse.

No, he didn’t have a lot of good memories of this place.

As they hustled through the underground passages to the dungeons, Harry struggled to master his anxiety. His wand was a reassuring presence strapped to his arm, even though he couldn’t use it to get out of this mess. When they stepped into the courtroom, the setup was a little different. The single chair was gone, and in its place were three tables with chairs behind them.

Behind the table farthest from the door sat a tall man with long pale blond hair. Harry clenched his teeth as he recognized Lucius Malfoy. With him were two more large men in equally fine clothing, and a thin blond woman he recognized as Draco’s mother, Narcissa.

The middle table was occupied by ruddy faced man with a thin brown beard that Harry recognized as Amos Diggory. The woman next to him appeared to be Mrs. Diggory. Both of them were eying the Malfoys with some trepidation.

The nearest table had only one occupant and three empty chairs. The man, tall and stooped with a fringe of yellow hair looked up at them and grimaced. “Arthur, I’d hoped you’d get here a little earlier, they are about to begin.” He nodded up at the benches opposite the tables.

Only three seats were occupied, but Harry recognized Amelia Bones as one of the three Wizengamot members in attendance.

As they hurried to their seats, the tall man spoke again. “Arthur, did you bring those financial statements?”

Mr. Weasley reluctantly pulled a sheaf of parchment from his robes. “I did, but I don’t really see where this is necessary, William.”

“Look Arthur, I’m the advocate here. I agreed to represent you as a favour, but you need to remember that this is what I do for a living. No matter what shape you are in, it always scores more points with the judge if you are up front about things. The fact that this has escalated to a triumvirate doesn’t change that.”

“But if those are entered as supporting documentation, won’t that mean the others can use anything in there against our case?” Mr. Weasley asked. Harry knew they were a little sensitive about financial matters. Mr. Weasley didn’t work for a particularly glamorous or well-funded department, since he was only really protecting Muggles.

William shrugged. “If they knew what to look for, maybe, but it’s not normally done, and they won’t have any notice. This is sure to score points with Amelia though.” Harry narrowed his eyes. Something about the man made him distrustful.

Mr. Weasley reluctantly nodded and held out the documents. Harry grabbed his wrist. “Is your name William Bendricks?” he asked.

The stooped man looked confused. “Er, yes. Why?”

“That was quite a sum of galleons Lucius transferred to your vault on Friday, wasn’t it?” The blood draining from the man’s face gave Harry an inspiration. “I think you are about to have an acute attack of upset stomach. I think you are unfortunately going to have to miss this whole hearing, and end up having to give all that money back to your benefactor. That is, unless you want that information and everything else my contacts have gathered about you to be on the front page of the Daily Prophet. I guarantee my name will get you tons of publicity, all of it bad.”

Mr. Bendricks shot to his feet, holding his stomach, and bolted from the room.

“I’d ignore any advice that louse gave you, Mr. Weasley. Lucius paid him off to sabotage your case.”

Mr. Weasley looked stunned. “Harry, how do you know that?”

Harry lowered his voice to a whisper. “The goblin that manages my accounts at Gringotts has been helping me with some things. Since right now my next of kin are all Muggles, he has a vested interest in my health and well-being.” While that was technically true, he’d actually gotten the crucial information about William Bendricks directly from the man’s mind. Any qualms he had about using Legilimency vanished the moment he saw the man’s guilt.

“Arthur?”

“Hello Amos,” Mr. Weasley said, turning in his chair. “What are you doing here?”

Mr. Diggory looked back over his shoulder at the Malfoys. “Dumbledore sent me. Don’t worry, we have everything covered,” he said nodding at Harry. “You and Molly don’t have to worry about it.”

“That’s quite all right,” Mrs. Weasley said, patting Harry fondly on the shoulder. “We’re more than happy to look after him.” Harry felt a warm glow. He and Mrs. Weasley had been at odds lately, but she was still the closest thing he’d had to a mother in either of his lives.

“But, er… Dumbledore said… he doesn’t want you to…” Mr. Diggory struggled to find a delicate way to say what he was thinking. He was spared this task by Madam Bones clearing her throat.

“If everyone is present, we’d like to begin this hearing to determine guardianship for one Harry James Potter.” She looked down at something and then up again at the tables, her monocle glinting. “Mr. Weasley, where is Mr. Bendricks?”

“He’s, er, not feeling very well. We can go on without him though.”

Madam Bones nodded. “If that is acceptable to you then we will do so. The court has been presented with three petitions for guardianship. The court recognizes Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Diggory, and Mr. Weasley as the applicants. Have any of these parties a desire to withdraw their application?”

She looked up and waited but no one responded, though Mr. Diggory did give the Weasleys a long look.

“Very well, we will hear from the claimants in reverse order of their date of application. Mr. Malfoy?”

Lucius rose to his feet with practiced grace. “Thank you, Madam Bones,” Lucius said with a patrician tone. “It has come to my attention that an icon of the Wizarding world has been treated in a less than helpful manner by those who were supposed to have his best interests at heart. After removing a threat that had slain or enslaved so many of us, the boy, little more than an infant, was sent to live with -- Muggles. These creatures did not treat him in any way appropriate to his station. He was kept completely ignorant of his heritage, until the headmaster of Hogwarts was forced to send his brute of a groundskeeper after them, to forcibly extract the boy from his captors. He returned to our world woefully ignorant of our ways and customs, and lashed out at many who sought to offer him friendship. He has fallen in with bad company, who only seek to use him for his wealth and fame. My son has made me aware of this travesty of justice and I found myself moved once I knew the facts of the situation. I would take the boy into my home as a proper fosterling and allow him the opportunity to learn the ways of our culture. He shall have the finest tutors and abundant opportunities to better himself and truly find his place in our world. As Malfoys, we obviously have more than enough wealth to sustain ourselves, and pledge that all of his inheritance shall remain untouched until he comes of age, something I don’t think others are willing to do.” At the end he sent a sardonic glare at the Weasleys. Harry found himself impressed by the skill of the man’s delivery. The pledge regarding Harry’s inheritance was a nice touch, though it sent a chill down his spine. If they weren’t in this for the money, then they were obviously just after him.

Madam Bones and the other two judges, both older wizards, questioned Lucius about some of the details of his proposal. As they finished, Harry realized why Bendricks had been so adamant that Mr. Weasley enter those financial statements. Those could be used to support Malfoy’s claims that the Weasleys were only doing this to get at Harry’s money.

Amos Diggory’s speech was a little less polished. “Er, Madam Bones, the missus and I became aware of the situation with poor Harry through some friends at his school. My son Cedric attends Hogwarts as well. He’s a good boy, and could serve as a fine older brother for Harry. We have a very secure mansion near Ottery St. Catchpole with plenty of room, and Harry could visit with his friends from school when he’s on holiday. Due to my work with the Ministry, we have all the latest wards and protective enchantments. He, uh, also wouldn’t have a lot of competition for our attention or guidance. Like I said, we have plenty of space and we’d love to have him stay with us.” He cleared his throat, ducked his head, and sat down abruptly.

Harry looked back and forth from Mr. to Mrs. Weasley. Mr. Weasley was quickly writing something down on a scrap of parchment. Harry realized with horror that he didn’t have anything prepared, as William Bendricks was obviously the one who was supposed to have been speaking.

“Will I get a chance to speak to the court, Mr. Weasley?” Harry whispered while Mrs. Bones was questioning Amos Diggory about Harry and Cedric’s nonexistent relationship.

“That’s not normally done, Harry,” Mr. Weasley whispered back. “Just give me a moment, and I can improvise something… didn’t expect William to-”

“If you don’t mind, I’ve given this some thought, and I would like a chance to speak to the judges,” Harry replied.

“Are you sure about this, Harry?” Arthur asked.

Harry nodded and Mr. Weasley slumped in his chair. “Good luck then, my boy.”

“Who will address the court on behalf of the Weasley claim?” Madam Bones asked.

“I will,” Harry said, standing up.

“Madam Justice, I must object,” Lucius called out. “This is not proper procedure for such a hearing.” His eyes glinted dangerously and Harry knew he was cursing Bendricks’ absence.

“Young man, Mr. Malfoy is correct, and it is not standard procedure for you to directly address the court.”

“Yes Ma’am, I do understand that. However, Mr. Weasley has granted me the right as his advocate.”

“Madam Justice, this boy is obviously deficient in his understanding our laws and traditions,” Lucius said, his temper finally beginning to show.

“Oddly enough, Mr. Malfoy, there is no regulation disallowing the subject of a claim of guardianship from speaking on behalf of one of the claimants. You may proceed, Mr. Potter.” Harry thought he detected a faint smile on her lips.

“Thank you, Madam Justice. I did find it somewhat interesting that I would not normally be allowed to speak. Muggle courts are much different when conducting a custody hearing. Perhaps that is because they are more concerned for the child’s welfare than his wealth, prestige or inheritance.” That last jab raised some eyebrows on the bench and set the Malfoys to muttering at one another.

“But I digress,” Harry continued. “It was true that I was raised to be ignorant of my heritage. Thus it was to my great good fortune that some of the first people I met when I rejoined the Wizarding world were Weasleys. At first, no one recognized who I was. A kindly family showed me how to get onto platform nine and three quarters. As we talked about starting at Hogwarts, I got into a discussion about household magic with their youngest. We agreed to write each other and she gave me a thorough grounding of how to operate in a Wizarding home. The brothers helped me get my trunk on board the Hogwarts express, and their youngest son sat with me on the train before any of them recognized me. That youngest son, Ron, was sorted with me into Gryffindor, and two months later saved my life and the life of another student when a troll broke into the castle.” Harry took a deep breath while a low murmur broke out in the courtroom.

“It should also be pointed out that we wouldn’t have been in harm’s way if it were not for the actions of Mr. Malfoy’s son, Draco.” If looks could kill, Harry might have died on the spot. He smiled thinly back at them.

“Some of my first Christmas presents were from Mrs. Weasley, who found out my Muggle relatives did not include me in their celebrations. At the end of the year, I made a rather foolhardy manoeuvre during the Quidditch finals and was only spared a broken neck, or worse, by the quick thinking of Ron’s older brothers, Fred and George, who’d made a special point of looking out for me.”

Harry took a deep breath to steady himself. “As you are no doubt aware, things deteriorated rapidly with my Muggle relatives when I returned to their house. This culminated in my receiving injuries that would likely have ended my life. My friends in the Weasley family, worried because they hadn’t heard from me in a while, mounted a rescue operation at great personal risk to themselves. It is not exaggeration to say that they literally saved my life that day. Most of my best friends are Weasleys, and I’m rather fond of the lot of them.”

He turned and smiled at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and wasn’t surprised to see that she’d teared up a bit.

“As Mr. Malfoy so crassly brought up the subject of money, I will address it. The only real arguments I have had with the Weasleys have revolved around that subject. I had to make it a condition of my coming to stay with them that they let me chip in a little for the grocery bill. They didn’t really want to let me do it, but the last of the Potters isn’t going to be a freeloader. Again, I will point out that they befriended me before they realized who I was. I have no doubt of their intentions and there is no place that I would rather live than with the first people to show me what a proper family was like. I’m sure the Diggorys are nice people, but I don’t really know them and don’t know if I’ve ever met their son. I hope that I have been able to address any concerns in the minds of the court and that my desires in this matter will be given proper weight.”

Madam Bones looked at Harry for a long moment as the other judges whispered to each other. Finally she nodded. “Mr. Potter, you mentioned some conditions you agreed to with the Weasleys?”

“Yes, Madam Justice. The first regarded the room and board, though I suspect Mrs. Weasley purposefully underestimates how much I eat, therefore I will likely be accompanying her to the grocers at some point in the future.” He turned and smiled at her to take the sting out of his words. “The second was with regards to my shouldering the expenses for any additional security needs, and I am coordinating that with the manager of my inheritance as soon as things are settled. Well, if they are settled, I suppose.”

“Is there a particular reason you are concerned about security?” She asked. Her eyes darted towards the Diggorys. “Is the Weasley residence a hazardous place to live?”

“Oh no,” Harry disagreed. “I just felt it prudent to make sure everything was covered. You see the incident at the Dursley household was precipitated by someone sending me a package on my birthday that contained a quartet of doxies.” With that he slid up the right sleeve of his robes, revealing the large scar on his forearm. “As you can see, I did not escape unscathed.”

Madam Bones’ lips compressed as she frowned. “Do you know who sent those to you?” she asked.

“I don’t know for sure, Madam Justice,” Harry replied, then turned toward the Malfoys. “Though I can think of some who’d wish me injured or wrongly punished for under-age magic use,” he spat venomously.

Harry knew better than to actively probe someone who was likely a master Occlumens. But he locked eyes with the Malfoy patriarch as he spoke, and the flash of rage and frustration he let slip out was all the confirmation Harry needed. 

“Very well,” Madam Bones said, “The court will observe a short recess while we come to a decision.”

Harry sat down with a sigh. Mrs. Weasley took his hand, but didn’t say anything. Harry squeezed her fingers, but he was too nervous to sit still. He tried to think of anything else he could have brought up to convince the judges, or if he’d said too much. He glanced over at the Diggorys, who did not look very happy. Leaning toward Mr. Weasley, he whispered “If they are here on Dumbledore’s behalf, why isn’t he in here with them?”

“Madam Bones did a little investigating on how you came to live with the Dursleys in the first place, and I think she’s a little put out with him right now. I, er, also had a few words with her after you we brought to Saint Mungo’s. I wanted to make sure there was no way you’d be put back there. Anyway, when she took charge of the panel, I imagine Professor Dumbledore decided that his presence would hurt their claim more than it would help.”

Harry nodded slowly, revising his opinion of his hopefully soon-to-be foster father. Just because the man didn’t play the political one-upmanship games in the Ministry didn’t mean he was unaware of them.

They sat a while longer, each lost in their thoughts and too intimidated by the forbidding courtroom to break the silence again. Harry jumped when the door at the back of the high benches swung open and the three judges filed in again.

After they settled themselves, Madam Bones spoke. “Each claimant to the position of guardianship to Harry James Potter has given valid reasons why their claim should be recognized. Each proposal weighed in with different arguments, different guarantees. It is with no small difficulty that we were able to come to a decision.”

Harry found himself grinding his teeth. If they give me to the Malfoys I’ll just have to Avada Kedavra them on the spot and tell Madam Bones to pick again.

“After all due consideration,” Madam Bones continued, unaware of the potential bloodbath about to erupt, “it is the decision of this court to grant the initial claim, filed by Arthur Weasley.”

Harry leaned back in his chair and let out the breath he’d been holding. Mrs. Weasley squeezed his hand so hard he thought it might break. He felt Mr. Weasley’s hand on his shoulder and managed to relax this time.

He turned and watched the Malfoys exit the courtroom at a quick walk, their fury quite evident on their faces. The Diggorys stood up a little slower, and walked over to their table.

“Well Arthur, no hard feelings. The important thing was to keep him out of their hands,” he said, nodding after the Malfoys.

“No Amos,” Arthur said affably. “I understand you were just following orders.” His emphasis on the last words did not go unnoticed.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” the ruddy-faced wizard asked, honest concern drawing across his features.

“Yes, I think we do,” he said, and gave Harry’s shoulder a squeeze. Harry felt that if someone asked, he could produce a Patronus that would clear Azkaban single-handedly.

When they exited the courtroom, Harry saw a familiar figure talking with the Diggorys. “Mr. Weasley,” he asked quietly, “do you mind if I talk to Professor Dumbledore for a moment? I have something I need to ask him.”

The Weasleys looked at each other. “Certainly, Harry. We may not always agree with him, but I’m not going to start avoiding him.”

As they walked up, the Diggorys stopped talking. Harry stared back into the headmaster’s twinkling blue eyes, almost daring him to try and read his mind. Better him than the Weasleys who had no defences. But the old man did not take the bait and simply greeted them. “Harry, I suppose I must congratulate you on getting your way, but are you sure this is for the best?”

Harry took a moment to answer as he ruthlessly suppressed his first three responses. “Yes, sir, I am sure that this is for the best.”

“Then I hope time will prove you right, and that others do not pay the price.”

Harry refused to give the man the satisfaction of wincing. “Speaking of paying the price, why is Sirius Black still in Azkaban?” Harry heard Mrs. Weasley gasp.

Only the slight pause before the headmaster responded gave hint to his surprise. “I see you’ve been doing some research,” the old man said carefully.

“It wasn’t that hard. My parents only had one friend named Peter, Peter Pettigrew. If he was the secret keeper then Black obviously was not. I gave you that information almost two months ago. My parents’ friend was put away without even a trial. At the very least my information should merit a hearing, or an interrogation with Veritaserum.”

Albus Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, let out a sigh. “It is because he was put away without a trial that makes things difficult, Harry. The Ministry is very reluctant to consider your testimony, based on memories that old. More likely it is because Sirius Black may be innocent. Many of those in power then are still here today, and discovering that they put an innocent man in Azkaban without a trial would create a terrible scandal.”

“And so they want to let him rot in there? That is unacceptable!” Harry knew his anger was in part because he hadn’t really found a better way to push this issue earlier. The fact that even after he’d found a way, they were still resisting… that was almost enough to put him over the edge. Sometimes he wanted to grab the headmaster and scream in his face ‘You’re doing it all wrong! Everyone is going to die at this rate!’.

“Harry, there is still the issue of the Muggles that died in the explosion,” Professor Dumbledore reminded him.

“The only reason people thought he did that was because he was supposed to be Voldemort’s spy. Besides, if they were wrong about who betrayed my parents, they could very well be wrong about everything. Could you see one of my father’s best friends committing mass murder?”

“I wouldn’t have thought any of them capable of betraying you and your parents to Voldemort, yet we know it was done,”  Dumbledore answered dryly.

Harry blinked rapidly and sighed. “He still deserves the benefit of the doubt. He never even got a trial -- and if you won’t do something about it then I will!” He knew his voice was getting louder and drawing some stares. He didn’t really care, either. Everyone was so concerned about maintaining appearances that they would let an innocent man be tortured by dementors. Still, he subsided a bit when he felt hands on his shoulders. He wouldn’t take this out on the Weasleys.

The man in front of him however was another matter. Especially when he said something like “Harry, I want you to promise you won’t do anything rash.”

“Oh, you mean like trust you?” Harry asked scornfully. A nasty corner of his soul was happy to see the twinkles disappear entirely from his eyes. “Did Sirius trust you to make sure he got a fair trial? Professor, almost every bit of misery in my life since I got this scar came directly or indirectly from you. You have no right to ask anything of me.”

Harry realized he’d maybe gone a little too far when he turned to go and saw the look on the Weasleys’ faces. The Diggorys looked absolutely gobsmacked.

As Mr. and Mrs. Weasley led him back to the lifts, Harry spoke in a voice little more than a whisper. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said sincerely.

Mr. Weasley glanced down at him. “I am going to want an explanation when we get home.”

Harry nodded. “You more than deserve one. I’d also like to ask your help… I need to go to Azkaban.”

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