Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Harry Potter sat on his bed in the smallest bedroom at Number Four Privet Drive, leaning against the headboard. A smile played at the corners of his mouth as his fingertips brushed over the dots emerging on the small slate balanced on his knees. He laughed out loud without a thought of stifling his laughter and then felt along the top edge of the slate until he had his fingers aligned over nine impressions on the surface, one for each finger and a longer depression in the center for both thumbs. His tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, he started pressing into the divots in patterns and then paused every once in a while to run his fingers over the six-cell patterns of dots that had emerged on the slate below allowing him to read what he’d written. Assured that he hadn’t flipped his i’s or e’s, he continued writing. 

Though Harry’s understanding of braille was growing, he was still very slow. He was determined to get faster before the start of term (still over a month away) because he wanted to avoid having other students overhear him working on his assignments or having to fiddle with silencing charms. Communicating with his friends through the slate was the perfect way to practice. And the connection the slate provided helped ease his despair that was fueled by the stifling miasma of bleach mingled with Petunia’s perfume.

The slate had been a gift from his friends Gemma Boot and Petro Sinistra just as he was leaving the Perenelle Flamel Adaptation Center unexpectedly. The Center—where he had acquired a lot of useful skills for getting around since he’d been blinded by basilisk venom in the Chamber of Secrets at the end of May—had been forced to close after it had been attacked and compromised by a wix who had been hades-bent on ruining the life of another resident at the Center and her family. Also, there was the little matter of an escaped Death Eater who was purportedly trying to kill Harry even though the two times he’d managed to get close to him, he inexplicably ran away. All of this happened in the last two months and in a trice, Harry found himself back at Privet Drive. The slate in his hands was helping him hang onto the reality of it all. 

But Privet Drive was different this time and Harry was trying to explain this to Gemma. She was peppering him with questions… first with an onslaught of demands… she wanted to know why Professor McGonagall had whisked him away from the Center and back to the Dursleys. Why did he have to go back? Why couldn’t he have gone anywhere else? Why couldn’t he go home with her? She didn’t seem satisfied with the answers Professor McGonagall had given him and it made him wonder if he should have fought harder for another solution. 

I did try, he reassured himself. He felt his cheeks heat up as he remembered how he had even hidden from Professor McGonagall in an attempt to talk to Healer Jordan alone… to plead his case.  

Load of good that did.

He shook his head trying to dislodge the resentment. Professor McGonagall was in the sitting room right now telling Aunt Petunia how it would be and Aunt Marge was being magically detained in the kitchen. 

Harry cocked his head. He could still hear Ripper’s occasional whimpering and wondered again what Professor McGonagall had done to the dog. While one part of him felt a smidge bad for the bulldog—after all, he was just a manifestation of Aunt Marge’s bullying—another part of him couldn’t resist taking some pleasure in knowing that Ripper was getting his due. The skin on his leg tingled with the memory of Ripper’s teeth around his ankle.

Harry shook his head to dislodge the unwelcome thoughts and turned his attention back to his conversation with Gemma. Now she was telling him about their friend Aminah who, with her mother, was trying desperately to secure the release of her father from Ministry of Magic custody. The real culprit of the attack on the Center had vanished without a trace to an eternal punishment of his own making. This happened when the magical vessel that he, Bill McCarthy, had stolen and loosed on the Center had been returned to its sacred place in the world. The void of magic disappeared, magic returned to the Center, and McCarthy had been pulled along with the vessel. 

But then the Ministry had blundered in… after the mischief had been managed… and took the wrong man. Just remembering it made Harry so angry… that coupled with the memory of the Aurors grabbing and pulling him in all directions without so much as a by-your-leave let alone any kind of warning. There was something about being blind that made people think it was okay to yank him around. And not being able to see them grabbing for him made it even worse. 

He shook his head again and tried to focus on the conversation underneath his fingertips. But Gemma was signing off. Her mother had just arrived at the Center to take her home. 

“All right. I’ll talk to you soon,” Harry conceded and sighed as he stashed the slate in his staff. 

What he wanted was to be back at the Center, in his dormitory with his friends. He wanted to feel Gemma’s signs under his cupped hands, her vitality pulsing through her movements, her friendship warm next to him. He wondered how far the navigation charm would work? Could he ask his staff to take him to Gemma no matter where she was in the world? He flicked it out of the holster on his arm. 

“ Navigant Gemma Boot,” he demanded. Its silence was his answer. He flicked it back into place next to his wand. He sighed as he swung his feet over the side of his bed and found his trainers with his toes, shoving his feet into them and adjusting the tongue and laces so that they were comfortably on. He stood up, careful of the tea service that Professor McGonagall had sent to his room, and reached out for the small table that stood under his window and next to his bed until his knuckles grazed it. He reached across it to the fluttering curtains that were being sucked outside by the warm July air and felt the intensity of the sun on his outstretched hands. He closed his eyes against the brightness. 

Even with his glasses magically modified to block out the bright light, the sun was too bright to allow Harry to keep his eyes open. It was all the vision he had left… some light perception and light sensitivity if it was too bright. Healer Jordan at the Center had explained how the venom from the Basilisk that had gotten into his eyes when he stabbed the giant serpent with the sword had damaged his optic nerve. Only Fawkes’ tears had managed to preserve his light perception… (well and his life). He was glad for it, even when the sun was too bright, because, at least he had a sense for what time of day it was and could orient himself in a room with windows. And he could still see the moon at night.

Hedwig had flown off to hunt after arriving at his window and his little snake friend, Nio, had slithered off to reunite with his family in the garden. But Professor McGonagall’s sharp Scottish tones were audible as they drifted up the staircase. It sounded as though his Aunt Petunia was not giving in easily to the prospect of Harry’s unexpectedly early return from the Center… especially given that Professor McGonagall had likely informed her that she would also be staying. 

Uncle Vernon and Dudley didn’t seem to be home at the moment… and then Harry remembered that it was still the middle of the day. Uncle Vernon was still at work and Dudley was no doubt out terrorizing the neighborhood.

“Harry, would you please join me and your Aunt in the sitting room? We have some things to discuss.” Professor McGonagall’s voice sounded so close to Harry that it made him jump and a shield erupted around him, pushing the tea service away from him in a clattering of china and silverware. 

When the Professor didn’t say anything else or comment on the fact that he had swivelled and crouched into a defensive stance with his wand flicked out in his hand, he realized that she must have sent the message magically. As his embarrassment threaded up his neck, he ended the shield charm and reached out a hand to steady the rattling tea service. He gritted his teeth to resist the urge to shove it out of his way.  He knew that Professor McGonagall had placed it there so that he could enjoy some refreshment by himself while she dealt with Aunt Petunia, but he was still feeling resentful about being forced to return to the Dursleys at all. 

He edged around the tea service and walked deliberately to the stairs, listening carefully to the tone of the conversation as he made his way down the stairs. His thrumming heart taking up all the space in his chest and leaving no room for his breath.

Wary that Aunt Petunia might have shifted the furniture in the sitting room since he left, Harry shook out his staff when he reached the last step and swung it out in an arc in front of him until the silver tip tinged against the wall and then he followed the wall until he found the entrance to the sitting room. 

Aunt Petunia and Professor McGonagall were sitting in heavy silence and Harry paused just inside the doorway, suddenly cognizant that they must be both staring at him. His throat started to close and his skin tingled with the urge to run away. He thought about his broom tucked into his staff… he could just pull it out and hop on it. Fly up into the clouds as high as he could go and then cast the Navigant spell to the Burrow… surely the Weasleys would take him in. 

“Morgana’s shift… they are in Egypt still,” he remembered. He sucked in a deep breath and forced himself to walk over to the sofa where a bony hand grasped his outstretched hand to pull him down to a seat. He resisted the urge to pull his hand out of Professor McGonagall’s and swallowed his irritation that she still couldn’t remember to warn him before she touched him. 

“My apologies, Harry,” she muttered when he flinched. He tried to shrug it off as he settled on the sofa and collapsed his staff, flicking it back into the holster on his arm. He tucked his hands under his knees and leaned forward. 

Aunt Petunia harrumphed and shifted in her seat across from them, stirring her tea vigorously. 

“Thank you for joining us. Your Aunt and I have been working on terms for our stay. I believe we have reached an agreement,” Professor McGonagall explained in clipped tones. She sounded more exasperated with Aunt Petunia than she’d ever sounded with Harry… even after the incident with the troll in the bathroom or the dragon on the astronomy tower. 

Harry’s legs jumped a bit, but then when Aunt Petunia made another disgruntled noise, he calmed down… if she didn’t like it, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for him . 

“Mrs. Dursley, would you like to explain our agreement to Harry?” Professor McGonagall asked in a professorial voice. 

“No, I would not,” Aunt Petunia grumped. 

Professor McGonagall sat in stony silence and Harry could imagine the thin-lipped staring battle that was occurring between them. 

“Oh, all right then!” Aunt Petunia gave in. “Harry, you and this… witch… will reside at our house and continue to work on your training in the room upstairs.”

“And?”

“You will be treated with respect,” Aunt Petunia spat out like a bitter seed.

“Now, that wasn’t so hard. Was it?” Professor McGonagall said as if she were speaking to a petulant first year. 

Harry was sceptical about the “being treated with respect” bit. He imagined that Professor McGonagall had a different definition of the concept than his Aunt. 

“Now, I will deal with the other Aunt and her beast.” Professor McGonagall stood up swiftly, smoothed her rustling robes and vanished the tea service with a pop. 

“Could you vanish my tea service as well?” Harry asked quietly as she stepped past him. He wasn’t sure if she heard when the echo of her hard-heeled boots receded down the hallway. 

Harry and his Aunt sat in uncomfortable silence as they both strained to hear what Professor McGonagall was doing with Aunt Marge. Harry was surprised that Aunt Petunia hadn’t followed Professor McGonagall down the hall berating her for taking matters into her own hands in her house. Maybe Professor McGonagall had performed a sticking spell and Aunt Petunia was stuck to the upholstery. Harry tried not to smile at the thought. 

“Oh, you think this is amusing, do you?” Aunt Petunia sneered. 

“No, Aunt Petunia,” Harry said, his amusement freezing after being blasted with her icy tones. 

“Well, mark my words. Your witchy Professor can’t be with you every moment of every day…”

“Actually, I can,” Professor McGonagall said. “And I will. Was that the onset of a threat?”  

Harry jumped and Petunia squeaked, her teacup rattled precariously.   

“How?”

“You need not concern yourself with how. Just know that I am watching over Harry now as I should have from the moment he was placed on your wretched doorstep.”

Harry was turning his ear toward Professor McGonagall’s voice, trying to determine if her body was close by or if she was doing the disembodied voice thing again. He hadn’t yet been able to discern a difference and it was disconcerting. While he was glad for the potential protection from the Dursley’s constant haranguing, he didn’t at all like the idea that Professor McGonagall was going to be watching him constantly… magically and without him even knowing. His face felt hot as he thought about having an audience while he used the toilet. He couldn’t hold it forever. 

“Don’t worry, Harry. You’ll have privacy as well. The spell I’ve cast, well, it allows for that.”

Harry wondered now if Professor McGonagall was able to read his mind. He pointed his other ear toward her voice, listening hard. He had a lot of questions for her… but not right now in front of his Aunt who was sputtering in response to the constant reference and use of magic in her house. 

From the kitchen came the scrabbling noise of Ripper’s toenails on the tile floor accompanied by more whimpering. Aunt Marge was strangely silent. 

“What have you done with Marge?” Aunt Petunia asked in a tremulous voice. The way her voice was pitching around the room it sounded like she also was searching for the source of McGonagall’s voice. 

“As she is a muggle who is not to know about the wizarding world, I’ve used a common and harmless muggle repelling spell on her. It is not as effective on dogs, so I’ve had to contain the hound using other methods. Rest assured, they are both being handled with more respect and consideration than you’ve ever afforded your nephew.” 

Aunt Marge’s thunderous footsteps vibrated in the hallway and then went marching mechanically up the stairs to the guest room. Harry could hear her rummaging around above their heads. 

“What is she doing?” Aunt Petunia asked again as Professor McGonagall’s footsteps rejoined them in the sitting room. 

“Packing,” Professor McGonagall’s voice reverberated in stereo for a second and then there was a barely audible pop and Harry guessed she’d ended the spell that amplified her voice in two spaces at once. 

“Vernon won’t like this!” Aunt Petunia warned. 

“I’m not concerned about that. What I am concerned with is… Why is it that the guest room is more comfortably outfitted than Harry’s room?”

Harry tucked his chin to his chest and braced himself for a tirade that didn’t come. He cocked his ear in his Aunt’s direction, wishing that he could read the expression on her face. Then sighed, feeling grateful that actually he couldn’t see her face and the inevitable disdain that would be etched on it as she thought about Harry’s place in her house. 

“Well, that and many things are going to change around here,” Professor McGonagall said. “Harry will be receiving many visitors so that he can continue his training. We will create a secure passageway so that they can come and go without notice. 

“What? I will not stand for this! Your kind are not welcome here! They can not come and go as they please!” Aunt Petunia’s voice had risen to its most shrill. “I will not have my house turned into a freak joint!”

Harry flinched and shrunk into the sofa. 

“Mind your tongue or I will mind it for you!” Professor McGonagall’s tone had risen in severity as she took a step closer to Petunia. “If the protection your sister placed on Harry didn’t require your presence, I would send you off with Miss Dursley and her beast. As it is, it is within my rights and inclination to silence you if you cannot manage to speak and act with respect toward Harry and his kind!”

Harry tried to wedge himself between the cushions on the sofa. He wasn’t sure why Professor McGonagall wanted him present for this. 

There was a stomping on the front stoop, the door slammed open announcing Dudley’s arrival. Harry gritted his teeth and shrunk into himself even more. His arm tickled as he thought about summoning his invisibility cloak from his staff. 

“Mum! I’m hungry!” Dudley demanded as he stomped toward the kitchen. 

“Just a moment, Duddikins. I’ll be right there,” Aunt Petunia’s voice was now lilting. 

But his footsteps stopped abruptly at the kitchen. 

“Mum? What’s going on? What happened to Ripper?”

His voice proceeded his pounding footsteps down the hallway to the sitting room. He stopped again at the threshold, his breath ragged. 

“Who? Who are you?” he gasped. “And why’s the freak here?”

There was a pop of magic and then Dudley sighed and turned and his heavy steps made their way slowly upstairs where he started rummaging around in his room… making similar noises to Marge. 

“No! What did you do to him?” Aunt Petunia seemed to be struggling to rise from the sofa. “Let me go after him! Didn’t you hear? He’s hungry!”

“He’ll survive a good while without anything to eat, I dare say. And he can go with Miss Dursley as far as I’m concerned. Your presence is the only requirement. We don’t need to suffer any more fools than that,” Professor McGonagall said primly. 

Harry sat up a little straighter. 

“And Uncle Vernon, too?” he asked. 

“And Uncle Vernon, too.”

Chapter Text

“This is my house! You can’t evict Dudley and Vernon! You can’t keep me prisoner in my own house! After all we’ve done for the boy… this is the payment we get! I won’t stand for it. I’ll… I’ll… I’ll … ring the police!” Aunt Petunia took shrill to a new level as she understood what Professor McGonagall intended to do. 

“Oh, you think your police will be overcoming magic, do you?” Professor McGonagall said in clipped tones. “Your laws don’t apply here. This house is magically warded… Harry is one of the most… "

"Don't!" Harry blurted out afraid of what she might say. He had lurched forward, hands scrunching the lace table runner on the low table between the sofa and Aunt Petunia’s chair. "She doesn't want to hear any of that."

Aunt Petunia yelped in alarm. It took Harry a moment to understand why.  When he heard the clink of china against the rings in her hand he knew he had dislodged one of the figurines that had been the bane of Harry’s existence dusting this room. 

There was a pop of magic and the shattering of china and Aunt Petunia cried out in alarm and pain, “You broke it! Purposefully!”

“You care more for a knick-knack than your own nephew. You should be ashamed. Sadly, I doubt you fathom the depth of your vileness,” Professor McGonagall said with so much loathing that Harry was surprised to feel a pang of pity for his aunt.

“Harry, would you be so good as to repair the figurine for your Aunt?” Professor McGonagall requested. 

“Me?” Harry asked, turning his nose toward the Professor, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Which one was it?”

“This one!” Harry felt the air in front of his face move and he leaned back allowing his disbelief to show. “Er. The Nymphenburg Petunia that my grandmother gave my mother when I was born,” Aunt Petunia sniffed and then her voice was muffled as she bent to pick up the shards. 

“I don’t think I should do it, Professor,” Harry said. “I get the color wrong.”

“Yes, Remus was telling me. I think it could serve as a nice reminder for your Aunt,” Professor McGonagall said.

“Color? It’s porcelain—just perfectly white,” Petunia spoke over the professor. “And he’s not to do that in our house. Your ministers even said so. Sent him a letter when he wrecked my pudding!”

“That wasn’t me!” Harry huffed.

Aunt Petunia yelped again as there was an eruption of wings and scritching claws across the window sill behind Harry. He turned his ear toward the sound. 

“Hedwig?” he asked. 

“It’s not Hedwig, it is a Ministry bird,” Professor McGonagall informed him. 

“See! Just like before!” Aunt Petunia had jumped up and run out of the room while Professor McGonagall’s robes rustled as she strode over to the window.

Harry listened as Professor McGonagall undid the leather straps on the bird’s leg. There was a crack of wax breaking and stiff parchment being unfurled. The sound filled Harry with dread. Sure it was going to be another howler, he braced himself. 

However, no screaming filled the room—just the small sounds Professor McGonagall made while reading the parchment. 

“What does it say?” Harry finally asked after the Ministry owl’s hoot faded as it took off and the silence became intolerable.

“Huh?” Professor McGonagall sounded as if she’d just awoken to the fact that he was still in the room. “I apologize, Harry. It is just from the Ministry about our visit. I had certain questions about the details of our time here and what I’m permitted and not permitted to do as your de facto guardian.” 

“You’re my guardian?” Harry asked, sitting up taller.

“De facto… a temporary measure as part of my role as your Head of House and because the Ministry is finally recognizing that your muggle relations… well, I won’t go into that at the moment. I can explain it later in more detail. For now, yes,” she explained, her voice betraying more emotion than her normal conservative pitch.

“Oh, all right,” Harry said quietly, though he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Granted, he felt a smidge safer than having the Dursleys as his guardians, but it wasn’t all warm and fuzzy as it might have been if it was the Weasleys or the Grangers. And why don’t I get a say in it? He huffed in exasperation.

“Oh, and the Minister wants to visit,” Professor McGonagall said over her shoulder as she left the room. “He’ll be here for afternoon tea. I need to set up… ” Her voice trailed after her as she marched down the corridor, eclipsing when she went into the kitchen, no doubt tracking down Aunt Petunia. 

Harry sat for a moment and then stood up. He shook out his staff and headed for the front door. He paused for a moment after his hand found the knob, listening to the low murmur of his Aunt and Professor McGonagall’s conversation in the kitchen. While tense, it didn’t seem as incendiary as it could have been. Upstairs, Marge and Dudley were no longer walking back and forth on the squeaky floorboards and he wondered what they were doing now that they must be done packing. He shrugged and eased the door open, years of muscle memory coming into play as he slid it open and slipped out without a sound. 

Harry closed it just as quietly, found the edge of the stoop with his staff, then the walkway to the garden where he hoped to find Nio sunning on the stone wall. As the fragrance of the stock flowers grew stronger, he called out to Nio in parseltongue. 

“ Nio ? Are you out here?” There was a rustling sound coming from the garden. A bubble of happiness rose in his throat.

“ Sthei! Is it time to weed again? I wouldn’t mind some juicy insects.”

Harry flicked his staff into his holster and knelt down breathing in the tang of damp grass. He stretched his hands out in front of him until he felt Nio’s tongue whispering against his fingertips. 

“Sure, let’s find you some treats,” Harry said, smiling as Nio wove through his fingers and he dug into the earth under the stock flowers. Soon the snake was sighing contentedly with a belly full of grubs. 

“Big Friend, even though being with you means I’ve flown through the air in the talons of an owl, nearly been frozen to stone, and felt like I was torn inside out—having my fill of juicy, fat worms makes it all seem worthwhile.”

Harry couldn’t help laughing at Nio’s slurring words as he fought sleep. Harry tucked in his shirt and transferred the snake carefully from his neck to his belly, wiggling until the serpent wasn’t tickling him anymore… then he eased himself onto the stone ledge that bordered the garden and soaked in the sun, an arm slung across his eyes (glasses stored in his pocket), and a hand protectively over the slumbering snake at his navel.

oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo

“Harry?” 

Harry started as he was shaken awake. He flung his arm off his face in an attempt to steady himself and whacked someone. He was mortified as he heard Professor McGonagall yelp in surprise as she jumped back and he tumbled off the stone wall, hitting his head against something solid.

Nio squirmed in alarm and Harry put a calming hand over the bundle of snake at his belly button. 

“What’s this?” Harry asked as his other hand, holding his wand, brushed against a smooth concave shell that surrounded him. His voice bounced back to him and the noises of Privet Driver were muffled. 

“Ah, it is indeed impressive. This is what Lupin has been telling me about,” Professor McGonagall remarked, her voice on the other side of his shield. “I’m sorry I startled you, Harry. I called to you from across the garden, but you mustn’t have heard me.”

Harry ended the shield charm and stood up. 

“Er, right,” he said as he wiped a string of drool from his lip. “I was really sleeping.”

“Is that the snake in your shirt?”

Harry fished inside his shirt and pulled a grumbling Nio out. 

Professor McGonagall took a step back. “Ah, you were both sunning yourselves. Well. I certainly understand the appeal.”

Harry’s chin shot up as he tried to understand the hint of envy in her voice. 

Nio continued with his plaintive hisses, questioning why their perfectly respectable nap had been so rudely interrupted.

“Hush,” Harry whispered in Parseltongue, forgetting that the Professor couldn’t understand the snake’s complaints.

“Harry, the Minister will be arriving soon. I trust that you’ll want to freshen up before he arrives? Perhaps, bathe? And put on your dress robes?”

“Dress robes?” Harry questioned. 

“You have some, don’t you?”

“Er, what are dress robes?”

“Well, I suppose that answers my question. I’ll transfigure some for you for this occasion and then later we can go to Diagon Alley and get you some proper ones,” Professor McGonagall huffed. 

Harry shrugged in response. 

“The Minister of Magic is coming to visit you, Harry. Surely you understand what this means?”

“Er, no?” Harry muttered as his face warmed. 

“Well, come now. I know you’re not this dense. If only Miss Granger were here to whisper in your ear,” Professor McGonagall huffed as she tugged at his elbow and started marching them back to the house. 

“Er, I should put Nio back in the garden,” Harry said, pulling away from her grasp.

He flicked out his staff and walked back toward the garden wall until the silver tip tinged against the stone. 

Quietly, he explained to Nio that he had to return to the house and that he’d come out later to dig up more grubs. Nio whisked between the stems of the stock flowers after a grudging goodbye and Harry followed Professor McGonagall’s crisp footsteps as she marched across the garden. 

They entered the house through the kitchen. As Professor McGonagall opened the door, Harry cast a quick scourgify charm on his shoes at the threshold… the thrill of doing a bit of magic with intention at Privet Drive lodging in his throat. 

In the kitchen, he was greeted by the scrabbling of Ripper’s toenails on the lino. His skin seized in apprehension, but immediately, Harry had to clutch at his ears as the dog emitted a piercing whine while retreating to a corner of the kitchen and knocking over a chair in the process. 

“What is wrong with Ripper?” Harry asked as Professor McGonagall charged across the room. 

She paused and Harry’s staff whacked her. “Sorry!”

“Er, there’s nothing wrong with Ripper… well, other than being allowed to terrorize people. I’ve just helped him to understand the new order here. He’ll be fine. Also, he’s not so fond of me… I think a human-sized cat is a rather disconcerting conundrum for the beast.”

“Oh,” Harry sighed… feeling dissatisfied with the answer. He wanted more details.

“Come along, now. We’ve got to sort out your wardrobe before the Minister arrives,” Professor McGonagall said, tapping her foot. “I’m holding the door open for you.”

“Oh! Sorry,” Harry said and he swung his staff in a narrow arc to find the door jambs.

Upstairs, Harry felt that his smallest room was even more crowded than usual as Professor McGonagall huffed about the state of his clothing. He was glad that he’d been able to vanish a lot of his really grubby hand-me-downs after Dr. Granger and Hermione took him shopping earlier in the summer. 

“I suppose this will have to do,” Professor McGonagall muttered and cast a charm on one of his smaller school robes. “Here, put this on.”

“Er, Professor. You want me to wear these… here? At Privet Drive? My uncle will be coming home soon. He’ll blow a gasket if he sees me wearing this,” Harry said as he ran his hands over the now velvety fabric of his robe. He found that the collar was now fringed with corded silk embroidery punctuated with small glass beads. “No offense. This feels amazing and is probably wicked, but if he doesn’t kill me for being wixen, he’s going to kill me for being a poof.”

“Language, Harry,” the Professor reprimanded him. 

“Er, that’s my uncle’s word, not mine,” Harry explained. 

“Well, it’s not worthy of repetition. At any rate, I’ve put a muggle repelling charm around the house. Your uncle will be compelled to stay away for a bit. Go ahead and slip them on. And I think the robes are very becoming… based on current fashions.”

Harry found the collar and slipped the robes over his shoulders. He was struggling with the fastener when Professor McGonagall stepped closer and took over. He felt warmth growing up his neck as he stood like a little lord and let her dress him. 

“There you go. The emerald velvet really does bring out the green in your … eyes,” Professor McGonagall sniffed. “Let’s fix your glasses, too, while we’re at it.”

“What? But Madame Pomfrey charmed them to block the sunlight… otherwise it hurts my eyes.”

“Oh, well, I can do a charm that has the same effect, but doesn’t hide your eyes.”

“Er, Godric said that opaque glasses are a visual clue… so that people know that you’re blind.”

“It’s up to you,” Professor McGonagall conceded. 

“I’ll just keep them the way they are, thanks.”

There was a sharp knock on the door. 

“Ah, I believe he’s here. Don’t worry, Harry. You’re not in trouble,” Professor McGonagall counseled. 

Harry’s head shot up in alarm. 

“It’s just you had that look on your face… the one you get when you’re called to the Head Master’s office. If anything, this visit is long overdue and an honor. See that you give the Minister the respect the office affords.”

“Er. All right,” Harry said, trying to school his expression into something more neutral as he followed the Professor from the room and down the stairs. He felt as if the grubs he had dug up for Nio were squirming in his belly.

For a second before Professor McGonagall opened the door, Harry wondered where his Aunt had gone, but then the door was opening and he was greeted with an overpowering cologne that had a wixen twang to it… more along the lines of essential oils than the Le Male cologne that Uncle Vernon liked to bathe in before important meetings. 

“Welcome, Minister. You’re certainly prompt for a Ministry official!” Professor McGonagall greeted. 

“Ah. Professor McGonagall, I am arrived at the correct residence. Thank you! Ah, well. Since I traveled by non-magical means, I wasn’t sure how much time to allow. It was a good thing that Croaker here is muggle-born and knows enough of the tub…” 

Here Mr. Croaker interrupted the Minister and corrected him, “That’s the tube, Minister.”

“Ah, yes. The Tube! Though they look more like tubs, don’t you think, Croaker? Ah, well, everyone knows there’s no sense in muggle naming conventions. Right.” The Minister seemed a bit flustered.

“Come in, come in. There’s a bit of a sitting room to the right,” Professor McGonagall ushered the men into the house. “I apologize that it isn’t more comfortable… we’ve only just arrived ourselves and I haven’t had time to make many modifications.” 

The Minister turned as he entered the door and commanded: “You, Williamson, Dawlish! Remain out here. Use a disillusionment charm. There are muggle repelling charms on the residence, but better be safe and vigilant.”

From the aromas wafting from the room, Professor McGonagall had conjured an even more posh tea for their guests. Again, Harry wondered where Aunt Petunia was hiding… but maybe this was better. She couldn’t help but be terrible to any wixen guests, even if it was the Minister of Magic and others he had dragged along. 

“Well, this is quaint!” the Minister said, clapping his hands. “So do all muggles live like this?”

Harry felt as though the question was directed at him, though he wasn’t sure. He sputtered a bit, but couldn’t form an answer. 

“Er. I believe there are quite a wide range of muggle residences, Minister,” Mr. Croaker muttered. 

“Right, right. Probably just as much variety among muggles as there are among wizarding households. Thank you, Mr. Croaker.”

Harry stood to the side as Professor McGonagall directed the Minister and Mr. Croaker to take seats. He wasn’t sure where he should sit and had a terrible itch to flee. He willed his legs to still though they seemed to have a life of their own in the moment and he hoped that no one was paying attention to him. 

“Mr. Potter!” the Minister exclaimed. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you in the flesh. Though I was so sorry to read about your ordeals at Hogwarts and your terrible and tragic injury. It must be awful. And the healers report that there’s no restoring your sight. Such a horror. How are you getting along?” 

“Er. I’m fine, Minister,” Harry responded, not really sure how to respond to the tsunami of words that erupted from the Minister. He leaned a bit against his staff… not sure if he should try to find a seat or remain standing. 

“Oh, Harry, dear. Come here. There’s a seat over here that I conjured for you,” Professor McGonagall said in a rush and pulled him over to an unfamiliar plush chair. Harry’s foot caught on the dress robes and he stumbled a bit. Professor McGonagall’s robes sounded even more starched than usual and he wondered if she’d transfigured her own into something more posh while he was dressing.

Harry settled into the chair and collapsed his staff. He resisted the urge to put his hands under his knees and tried to sit up straight. 

“So, Mr. Potter. I imagine you are wondering why we have come to visit you?” the Minister said. 

“Er. Yes?” Harry replied. 

“Well. I believe you know that a dark wizard has escaped Azkaban and is believed to be searching for you. In fact, I understand from my Aurors that he managed to get dangerously close to you during the incident at the Center.” 

“Er. Yes?” Harry repeated. 

“Well, while the Hogwarts staff believe that you are safer under the blood protection afforded you in your relations’ house, there are factions at the Ministry who question the wisdom of leaving you alone in the hands of muggles and would like to offer you a safe house within the Ministry. What do you think?” 

“What do you mean?” Harry asked tentatively while Professor McGonagall sniffed dubiously across from him. 

“We’re offering you a safe haven where you’d have protection around the clock from the best of Ministry’s Aurors, not to mention access to the latest magical innovations available to wizarding kind.”

“How about the Center?” Harry asked. “Couldn’t I stay there? Until Hogwarts is in session again?” While leaving the Dursleys had a definite appeal, he was wary about the Aurors he’d just met (and who were apparently traveling with the Minister and stationed outside of Number 4 Privet Drive at this moment). 

“Really, Minister. Do you think it is wise to put such a decision in the hands of a minor? Harry doesn’t understand all the risks. It doesn’t seem prudent to me,” Professor McGonagall protested. “And he’s still adjusting to his blindness.”

Harry felt his gorge rising. 

“I don’t know what that has to do with anything!” Harry protested, sitting up a bit straighter and sticking out his chin.

“Certainly, certainly,” the Minister consoled. 

“We understand that as a result of your injuries you’ve ingested some highly magical substances that are having surprising results,” interjected Mr. Croaker with a jittery voice. “The Ministry could help you learn how to harness your new abilities.”

The phrase “new abilities” reverberated through his consciousness for a moment and then Harry remembered Professor Flitwick’s excited voice stating, “I bet the Ministry can’t wait to get their hands on you!” And the rush of pleasure that he’d experienced remembering how he could simply rub some of his tears on a cut and it would disappear vanished.  

He leaned back wanting to get away from Mr. Croaker. The hair rose on the back of his neck. It was as if the tendrils of Devil’s Snare were creeping along his limbs again.  

“Er. Do people really live at the Ministry of Magic?”

“No, not commonly, but with a little bit of magic we can make it very comfortable,” the Minister urged. 

“If I have a say in it, I’d much rather continue my training at the Center,” Harry stated, feeling defiant. 

“Ah, well. That’s an issue isn’t it?” the Minister said. “The Center is temporarily closed.” 

“Minister, we’ve made arrangements for Harry to continue with his training while he remains here under the blood protection that kept him safe from You-know-who and his ilk all these years,” Professor McGonagall said with an emphasis on later. “Professor Dumbledore insists that Harry is safer out of the public view.”

The neglected dankness of the cupboard infiltrated Harry’s memory at this and he tucked his hands under his knees. The air in the room was suddenly thin and the velvety robes suffocating. 

“You think he’s safer here than at the Ministry?” 

“There are just so many people who travel through the Ministry every day… how can you be sure that Harry will be secure there?” Professor McGonagall asked. 

“Given what happened at Hogwarts and at the Center in the last few months, I’m surprised that you’re questioning the safety of the Ministry!” the Minister said forcibly. “And there have been reports that the boy was not so protected here.”

“I need,” Harry said quietly, standing up slowly and shaking out his staff, “to visit the toilet. Excuse me.” 

His departure from the room went unnoticed, though, as Professor McGonagall has also stood up to vehemently explain that she was residing with Harry now and her sole purpose was to make sure that Harry was well-guarded. 

Harry closed the door quietly behind him, unfastened (with a bit of difficulty) the silken clasp at his neck, letting the heavy robes fall to the ground, and slid down to the floor where he put his head between his knees until he didn’t feel so lightheaded anymore. 

He berated himself. Hadn’t he always wanted to escape Privet Drive? Now that he was getting what he wanted, he realized that he needed more. 

When did I become so greedy?

Chapter Text

Harry sat leaning against the door of the bathroom listening to the voices of the Minister of Magic and Professor McGonagall as they rose in pitch and ferocity. He pulled at his hair and then drew in a calming breath, counting to ten until he didn’t feel like blasting through the wall. 

When he felt better, Harry flicked out his wand, pausing to imagine how each of the Dursleys would react in turn to a gaping hole in the side of their house. Instead, he cast the cleansing charm on the bathroom floor, a devious smile on his lips. He turned around and laid on his back with his legs running up the door, bunching the velvety robe under his head as a pillow, and rested his hands on his belly feeling smug in his small rebellion. 

He hoped that Ms. Midgeon would be among the instructors who would visit him until the Center was inhabitable again. While her lessons often felt a bit silly, they were the ones that he drew on most when he felt like everything was falling apart. He tried to imagine Ron stretching alongside him and giggled. 

Professor McGonagall’s hard-heeled boots sounded in the corridor outside the toilet, reverberating through the floor along his spine. He sighed and started to slide his legs down the wall when she rapped on the door. 

“Harry? Are you all right? You’ve been in there an uncommonly long time. You’re not ill, are you?” 

“I’m fine,” he sighed and sat up. He reached for the sink and pulled himself up. “I’ll be out in a moment.”

He felt for the faucets and turned on the water. Placing his glasses on the glass shelf above the sink, he bent over and splashed cool water on his face. He ran his hands through his hair and then felt for the towel hanging by the sink. As he pressed the towel against his face, he took in another deep breath, replaced the towel, then groped for the knob and opened the door. 

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Professor McGonagall interrogated. “Come, come. The Minister of Magic is waiting for you.”

He was surprised she was still standing outside the door and he took a step back. She stepped forward and grasped his wrist, pulling forward. He yanked his hand down. 

“Please, Professor McGonagall. Stop. Grabbing. Me,” Harry seethed. “I know you’re trying to help, but I can get around on my own just fine.”

Professor McGonagall was quiet for an unsettling long amount of time and Harry blinked and held his breath while he waited for her response.

Finally she drew in a long breath and said, “You’re right, of course. I apologise. I will work on it.” 

He hung back, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head. They’d already had this conversation before. 

“I promise. Truly,” she sighed. “Harry, the Minister!”

“What about him?”

“The Minister of Magic came to call on you! And you disappeared into the toilet!” she hissed. “Where are your robes? Your glasses?”

Harry felt for the door, then followed it to the floor and reached behind it until he located the pile of robes. He lifted them up and ran his fingers along the edges until he found the neck and swung it around his shoulders. He was fiddling with the clasp at the neck trying to figure out why he couldn’t get it to line up.

“Er. You’ve put them on inside out,” Professor McGonagall said, her feet shuffling as if she were coming forward to assist him and then thought better of it. 

Harry blew a frustrated breath that made his fringe fly up. He swung the robes out again, turned them around and was able to get the clasp to fasten this time. The robes were suffocating and hot and he disliked having to wear them. He tried swallowing his resentment, but it lodged in his throat.

“Come now. What is going on with your hair?” She pressed a hand to his head and he yelped in response.

“Er. Pardon me. Just grab your glasses and let’s return to the Minister,” Professor McGonagall said, turning briskly and walking away. 

It took Harry a moment to find his glasses where he’d stored them. He was fuming which didn’t help. He shoved them back on his face and stepped out into the hallway.

The Minister and Professor McGonagall were again engaged in a tense conversation. “Mr. Potter needs to be kept safe and we can do that much more effectively at the Ministry,” the Minister insisted. 

“I respectfully disagree, Minister,” Professor McGonagall said, her voice dangerous as it was calm. “While I have my concerns about the Dursleys, there is a reason why Professor Dumbledore felt that Me. Potter was safer here than in a wizarding household or the ministry. The Ministry agreed with him over ten years ago when the debate raged about the best safe harbor for the boy.”

“But I wasn’t the minister at that time! And Healer Jordan has notified the Ministry of the bruises and signs of malnutrition that he exhibited. We are deeply concerned about Harry’s well being,” the Minister had stood up and was pacing back and forth.   

“And not to mention the potential for study. There is so much that we could learn from him. No other wizard has survived the killing curse, and then when you add the Basilisk venom to the mix…” Mr. Croaker’s voice reminded Harry of Dudley when he was trying to convince his mother that he really needed an expensive new toy.

Harry stepped back, leaning against the wall. His heart was threatening to suffocate him and he willed it to calm so that he could hear what they were saying. But it was more of the same. After a moment, he knew what he had to do. He returned to the toilet, pressed the lock from the inside, closed it quietly so that it locked. Then, he flicked out his staff and summoned his invisibility cloak out with the barest whisper. He undid the clasp at his neck and shrugged the heavy dress robes, letting them pool at his feet. He was tempted to just leave them there… the image of Aunt Petunia finding them almost making a giggle erupt from this throat… but then stuffed them back into his staff. He took a step, then paused to toed his shoes off and stuck them into his staff, too. 

Harry swung the invisibility cloak over his shoulders and pulled the hood over his head. The fabric tingled against his skin, thrumming with magical energy. As he held it as his neck, his finger caught on a small eyelet that he hadn’t noticed before and he wondered if this cloak also had a fastener like the fancy dress robes that he’d just been wearing. 

An impatient harrumph from the Minister jerked him back to his present predicament and he lurched forward, then remembered he needed to be calm and quiet. 

He held his staff off the floor so that the silver tip wouldn’t give him away and padded across the sitting room doorway holding his breath. 

At the front door, he whispered the navigation charm and then eased the door open again, listening to his staff’s cues about the Aurors who were stationed outside. He slipped through the narrow opening and quietly closed the door behind him. He was careful to pull the door closed, but not so hard that the latch clicked. Holding his breath again, he listened carefully and walked between the Aurors in stocking feet, feeling for the edge of the stoop with his toes. 

Once on the garden path, he stepped stealthily from stone to stone, pausing often to listen for clues that the Aurors had noticed him. 

He didn’t have much time until Professor McGonagall would check on him again, but he wanted to find Nio before left. He’d had enough of this tug-of-war. Professor McGonagall meant well, but he could tell from her voice that she was going to give way to the Minister and he was not going to allow himself to be poked and prodded by that Mr. Croaker bloke. He had a bad feeling about him and the whole Department of Mysteries.

One of the men sneezed behind him and Harry nearly tripped. He caught himself and waited, then taking in a deep breath, continued walking along the garden path following the guidance of his staff. Once he was through the gate and behind the house, he sped up and swung his staff in a wider arc. 

When his staff tinged softly against the short stone wall, he bent forward, found the ledge, sat down, and called Nio in parseltongue. He waited for a moment, listening, then summoned both his new and old trainers from his staff. He put on his new trainers and unlaced the old trainers. He stuck those back into his staff and then felt for the eyelets again at his neck and tied the invisibility cloak in place with the old laces. He felt along the edges of the cloak and found other eyelets. He was able to pull one of the laces in half because they were so worn and with the short ends tie the bottom of the cloak to his wrists. It allowed him to wear the cloak without having to hold it closed. 

“Sthei?” Nio called from Harry’s right. “I can smell you, but I can’t see you.”

“I’m here, Nio ,” Harry said, waving his hand. 

“I hear you, but I still can’t see you,” the little snake said as he grew closer. 

“I’m wearing my invisibility cloak,” Harry explained in a quiet voice. “You can’t see my hands?” Harry moved them around testing out the ties that he’d fastened to his wrists. He stuck his feet out. 

“No, you’re as invisible to me as I am to you,” the snake said. 

“Can you see my feet?”

“Ah, now I see you. Just your funny coverings, though.”

“You mean my shoes?”

“Yes, those—but only when you stick them out far as you just did.”

“I suppose that’s good.” 

A car driving by brought Harry back to focus. 

“ Nio , I need to leave. Do you want to come with me?”

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know, but I need to leave before they take me to the Ministry to do experiments on me.”

“Yes, I’ll go with you,” the snake said as he wound his way up Harry’s offered hand. “How will we travel? By owl?”

Harry snorted at the idea of Hedwig carrying him. “Actually, I was thinking of flying on my broom,” Harry said. “And don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe. But we need to hurry. They are going to start looking for me soon.”

Harry transferred Nio to his neck, tucked his shirt into his pants, and summoned his broom out of his staff. He swung his leg over the broom and placed his staff into the notch on his broom, changing the navigation to vibrate. 

“Can you see the broom?” Harry asked as he tried to catch all the loose ends of the cloak and tuck them in, while remaining covered up and balanced on his broom. 

“Just a little. Mostly it is not visible,” Nio said. “We’ll come back later, yes?”

“Er, I don’t know. You don’t have to come with me, if you want to stay here with your family,” Harry said, though it ached to say it. 

“So we’re off on another adventure… to return who knows when? I guess I’m a flying snake, now,” Nio said with so much conviction that Harry’s eyes stung and his throat grew tight.

“You’re a good friend, Nio, ” was all Harry was able to manage.  

From inside the house, Harry could hear raised voices and guessed that they had noticed he wasn’t there anymore. 

“Okay, hang on. Here we go,” Harry said, launching them into the air. Nio tightened his hold on Harry’s neck. 

“Ease up, Nio! You’re going to choke me!” Harry coughed, putting a finger between his neck and the snake. 

“You’re going to hit some trees!” the snake hissed. 

Harry wobbled a bit on the broom as he put his hand back on the handle, focused on the vibrations again, and brought them up short so that they made their way over the trees instead of through them. A branch grazed his foot, but didn’t catch. One of the edges of the cloak was flapping behind him, pulled away by the wind. He sucked in a deep breath and rose higher, hoping that his legs weren’t visible to the Aurors searching for him below. 

“Are there any clouds? Do you think they can see us?” Harry asked Nio , but the snake didn’t answer and Harry worried that he’d been selfish asking Nio to accompany him. After a little bit the snake seemed to relax and stretched out his neck to peer down. 

“I can’t see the garden anymore. We are far, far away, Sthei, and all the moving chairs are like aphids.” 

“Moving chairs?” Harry asked, thinking of Besel’s wheelchair. 

“Like the one your angry man squeals around in—after the sun rises and as it is setting.”

“Oh. Cars. He’s not my angry man,” Harry sighed, and felt relief to be flying away from Privet Drive and all of the Dursleys. 

“Still don’t know where we’re going?” Nio asked. 

“No idea. I just needed to get away.” 

Harry’s mind was racing through all the possibilities: Ron’s in Egypt, Hermione’s in France… and besides, that’s where they’ll look first. I don’t know how to get to Gemma’s, though I suppose I could ask her with the slate she gave me, but I probably can’t go to any friend’s house because they’ll find us there. Hogwarts and the Center are out. I wonder if I could fly to that island that Mei goes to? How far can I fly on a broom? How long would it take? Days? I wish I had Aminah’s flying carpet. I should have brought some food. I should probably go someplace where there are other wix, otherwise they’ll be able to detect my underage magic. Where? Diagon Alley? Too crowded… I couldn’t sneak around in my cloak without bumping into people. Hogsmeade? Where could we stay in Hogsmeade without anyone noticing us?

“ Navigant north,” Harry spoke to his staff in his broom and maneuvered so that he was heading north. He wasn’t sure what was north, but somehow it felt better to be heading a direction, rather than just away. 

He was thinking about the photo albums he had stored in his staff… the photos that he’d looked at with his digitus that transformed the flat images into three-dimensional shapes that he could feel. There had been a cozy cottage where his parents lived when he was a baby… he remembered the name written beneath one of the images of the three of them standing in front of it. 

“Navigant Godric’s Hollow,” Harry said in a tremulous voice.

“So you know where we are going now?” Nio asked with a slight squeeze of Harry’s neck. 

“Yeah, there’s a place I want to visit. It may not be where we stay… but maybe I can find some answers there. And I’m not sure anyone would think to look for me there.”

“We can always find the Adelphi in the area and stay with them,” Nio said and Harry wondered if he’d be able to survive on a diet of earthworms and beetles.

Chapter Text

Harry was having a hard time getting comfortable on his broom. His arms ached, his rear end was sore, his feet kept falling asleep. This was the longest he'd ever been on a broom without any kind of break. Above the clouds, the sun was brutal and his hands were slippery on the broom handle. Rivulets of sweat were making tracks down the sides of his face and under his arms. He was thankful for the invisibility cloak which was probably preventing a sunburn, but it was like a sauna under it. He was really thirsty. 

Once Nio had helped him navigate around the tree branches and telephone wires and get above the clouds, the little snake had retreated to nap against Harry’s belly where he didn’t have to worry about the dizzying heights, sun, or wind—or Hedwig. 

Harry had nearly jumped off his broom in surprise when Hedwig hooted gently near his ear shortly after they had cleared the clouds—the cool mist of the clouds falling away to impossibly hot, bright light. 

When her wings brushed against his cheek, he wondered why he had never thought to fly with Hedwig before… when he could see. He pushed the thought away and in his mind’s eye, he imagined the way the wind would lift her up under her wings and ruffle her feathers. He imagined her piercing eyes, steady on the horizon. She was so stealthy that he only knew she was near from her occasional hoots or growls. Harry suspected she made the noises to warn off other birds when he heard the distant calls of geese. Nio wiggled with alarm whenever she made those noises and Harry marveled at how the little snake had ever made the journey from Surrey to London. 

When Hedwig started to fall behind, Harry slowed down. 

“Hedwig, do we need to stop and rest?” Harry asked hopefully. 

She made a cooing noise that sounded like an affirmative. 

“ Nio, can you climb up to my neck and help me find a place to land?” Harry said, nudging the sleeping snake with his fingers. 

The little snake protested a bit and then started squirming up Harry’s torso. Harry supported the snake through his shirt to minimize the tickling as Nio climbed up to his perch under his chin. 

He also spoke to his staff, “ Navigant a safe and muggle-free spot to rest.” But instead of directing them to a new location, the staff stopped making any vibrations at all. And then he felt another vibration at a different frequency that was coming from inside his broom; it wasn’t directional, rather repetitive, occurring every few minutes. He had a feeling he knew what it was and was eager to land so that he could confirm his suspicions.

“What do you see, Nio ?” Harry asked. “Any good landing spots?”

The little snake coiled tightly around his neck, nearly choking him. 

“It’s okay. I’ve got you and you’re strangling me,” Harry said, threading a finger underneath the snake’s cool belly. 

“I really don’t like looking,” Nio said in a tremulous voice. “Flying is for birds, not snakes.”

As if she understood, Hedwig hooted softly, her feathers brushing Harry’s forehead. A moment later Harry grabbed the broom handle with both hands again as the broom dove down through the clouds. Harry’s stomach tried to exit from his mouth. He gulped it back in with the realization that a sudden weight had settled on the end of his broom. Hedwig’s alarmed cries came from the same spot and he realized as he fought to bring the broom back up, that she had landed on his broomstick. Nio ’s grip on his neck intensified and for a moment Harry was certain he was either going to die of asphyxiation or from sudden contact with the earth. 

Once he adjusted the broom (helped by Hedwig scooting closer to his hands), he was able to tug at Nio’s coils and breathe again. 

He gasped, “Hedwig. You’ve got to warn me next time.” She grumbled in a way that could be taken as a grudging apology.

The air around Harry and his companions was wet and the sun’s intensity, gone. Harry shivered.

“We must be inside a cloud,” Harry said in parseltongue.  

“Yes, we are,” Nio replied. “It’s cold!”

“I’ll go down more and you tell me if we’re near someplace safe to land… my staff didn’t understand,” Harry explained to Nio.  

Emerging from the clouds, the wind was more buffeting than it had been earlier and it carried the scent of brine. 

“We’re near the ocean?” Harry asked. 

“What’s an ocean?” Nio responded. 

“Lots of salty water,” Harry said, inhaling deeply. 

“Oh.”

Hedwig growled a warning. 

“What is it?”

“More of those metal sticks.”

“Wires?” Harry asked, alarmed. 

“Yes, but I see them. I’ll guide you around them. We’re getting closer to the ground,” Nio said, obviously relieved. 

Nio swayed from side to side, guiding Harry with his movements as they neared the earth. Harry could hear the wind rattling leaves as well as the sounds of cars on a roadway. 

“Take us away from any legwalkers or their moving chairs,” Harry advised. 

“Cars?” Nio offered.

“Yes, those,” Harry laughed. 

Hedwig made a growling sound and Harry wished he understood owls as well as he understood snakes. 

“There’s a gathering of trees ahead and near them some large stones. There aren’t any legwalkers, houses, or their cars nearby. I think it’s a good spot. No wires, either.” 

“Okay, that sounds good.” 

“And it is before we reach the big salty water. I can’t see the other side of it… is it really that big?”

“I’ve only seen it once, but it was stormy and nighttime—but it seemed endless,” Harry said. 

The little snake shivered and his coils tightened on Harry’s neck. “The world is far larger than I ever imagined.”

“Yeah.”

Hedwig hooted softly and stretched her wings so that the tips brushed Harry’s hands and face. The broom lurched in response to her movements and Harry remembered the sails on the HMS Eden and how they caught the wind. 

He wondered if anyone could see Hedwig riding a stick through the air. Maybe it looked like she was carrying it, instead of it carrying her. He hoped so. The invisibility cloak was billowing and whipping around him as they dove down toward the earth. 

“Is there something that I can tell my staff to guide us to?” Harry asked Nio. 

“Yes, there is a circle of rocks,” Nio said. “They’d be good for sunning ourselves.” 

Harry was already telling his staff to navigate to the circle and following the vibrated directions as they descended. Hedwig hooted in protest and launched off the broom so unexpectedly that Harry yelped and was once again struggling to keep them on a steady path. His dangling feet scraped against something solid as he righted the broom and then was able to bring them in for a landing in the center of the stones—the vibrations informing him of their location around them. It wasn’t the most graceful landing he’d ever executed, but he didn’t fall, either. 

“Hedwig!” Harry said sternly, as he dismounted. “You can’t just do that! We nearly collided with that er… stone?!” 

She hooted dolefully from farther away and higher up than he expected and he turned his body so that his face was turned toward her. 

“It’s okay. I was just scared. And we’ll have to figure out a way to do this so we don’t crash,” he said in a soothing tone.

He wiggled his toes inside his trainers… they smarted a bit, but seemed to be okay.

He took his staff out of his broom and shoved the broom into the staff’s storage, then shook out the staff and squeezed it for a description of the area. His staff described a grassy knoll ringed by lichen covered stones in the clearing of trees and bordered by farmland. From the wind blowing sea air, Harry surmised that they were on a hilltop. The constant undercurrent of cars and trains rumbling Little Whinging was missing… instead there was a thrum of insects and birds, wind through leaves, and, distantly, waves upon stones. He sighed, relieved that maybe they were far enough away from people to be noticed.

Harry swung his staff in front of him in an arc walking across the uneven grass until his staff tinged against a stone. 

“Does this look like a good one for sunning ourselves?” he asked Nio.

“It’ll do, but the one to your right looks even better,” the little snake responded. 

Harry walked over to it, collapsed and flicked his staff into his arm holster then knelt, his hands out in front of him until he found the craggy surface and a spot to sit. He adjusted the invisibility cloak so that the ties weren’t digging into his wrists. He was tempted to take it off, but then remembered that he ran away while the Minister of Magic was at Privet Drive… who knew how many Aurors were looking for him already. 

He transferred Nio from his neck to the warm rock and then, mindful that he didn’t lay on the snake, stretched out on the surface, resting his head on his hands. He drew in deep breaths as the sun warmed him and helped his aching muscles relax. After a little bit, Hedwig hooted faintly as she flew overhead and he understood her to mean that she was going hunting and would be back soon. He sat up again and summoned his water bottle from his staff and gulped some water, pouring a bit in the lid for Nio.

“Any chance you can dig around for some worms?” Nio asked in a drowsy voice after he’d lapped up the water. 

Harry smiled in response and scooted to the edge of the rock, grazing the surface lightly with his hands until it started to slope toward the earth. He winced as the uneven texture gouged his knees. His progress was delayed, though, when his fingers encountered a ridgid line carved into the stone. He followed it and found that it was intersected by two snaking lines undulating over the centerline. He puzzled them out and followed the incised lines that culminated in radiating lines. 

“Hey, Nio ! Look at this. I think it is two snakes and a bird? Or is it winged snakes?” Harry asked, turning his head toward the snake. As he ran his fingers over the carving, he realized that it was buzzing with faint magic. He pulled his hands back and rubbed his tingling fingers with his thumbs.

Nio dislodged small stones on the surface of the rock as he slithered to Harry’s knees. 

“Snakes don’t have wings,” Nio stated. “It looks like the stick has wings.”

“I wonder what it means,” Harry said. 

“Worms.”

“What?”

“You were going to hunt worms for me…” Nio reminded him. 

“Oh, right.” Harry found the edge of the rock again and followed the curve to the tendrils of wet grasses and heather that surrounded the stone. He was thankful that this July had been rainier than usual because the earth was soft and it was easy to pull the tufts of grass out and it wasn’t too long before he’d gathered some plump, wriggling insects for Nio.

As the snake feasted, Harry’s stomach rumbled. It had been a while since he’d been licking the lemon curd from his fingers. He wished he’d had a chance to stash some food in his staff. As if aware he was thinking about it, his staff vibrated against his forearm and he remembered that he was going to check the slate that Gemma and Peter had given him. 

Harry brushed the dirt from his hands and settled on the stone slab again. He was about to summon the slate from his staff, but as he had found a seat on the stone, his hand had pressed against the carving of the snakes and it sent a tremor through his body, heating up under his hand. He yelped in surprise and scooted away from it. The trembling became a roar and Harry had to throw himself on the surface of the rock to keep from falling off. His hands scrambled frantically across the surface, trying to find handholds as it lurched and gyrated. Nio hissed from under his belly, and a gut-wrenching grinding of stone against stone filled the air. Dust erupted around them and an earthy dankness engulfed them, cool, wet air filling his lungs. 

“What’s going on? Is the earth opening up?” Harry shouted. 

Nio’s muffled response was unintelligible and Harry rolled to the side so the snake could breathe. His body whipped against Harry’s as he slid under Harry’s chin to look over the side of the rock. 

“It appears so, Sthei,” the snake hissed near his ear. “Stairs of stone descending into a dark tunnel.”

“Do you think there’s any food down there?” Harry asked hopefully. 

“There’s plenty up here,” Nio offered.

“My kind of food,” Harry clarified. 

“What? You don’t like worms?”

“Er, no, I don’t think so.”

“You’ve never tried them?”

“Not yet. I imagine they taste like slimy dirt.”

“Exactly. Delectable!”

“So, this staircase… what do you think? Should we check it out?”

“I like tunnels.”

“I should let Hedwig know where we’re going. What if the tunnel closes again once we’re inside?”

“How about I take a look around and you stay up here?” Nio suggested. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’ll be able to find another way out if it closes.”

“All right. That’s probably wise,” Harry said, but he was feeling left out. He really wanted to go exploring with Nio, even if it was down into a dark, mysterious hole. 

“Hey, Nio!” Harry called after the snake as it glided away from him. “Wait for me. I want to go with you. Hedwig will be fine.”

“Oh, all right. But let me ride on your neck. I don’t want you to step on me,” Nio said as he nudged Harry’s outstretched hand. Harry transferred him to his neck and then flicked out his staff so that he could figure out where the stairs opened up. He edged around to the side of the stone and slid off. Nio told him how to find the entrance to the stairs and he descended into the cavern, shivering as the temperature dropped. 

The stone rumbled again once Harry descended the stairs, stooping so that he didn’t hit his head on the lintel at Nio’s warning. Harry turned, braced himself against the cool stone wall and held his breath as the sun was eclipsed by the closing rock above him. He fought his panic at the thought of being entombed by focusing on Nio’s reassuring hisses. His hands ran over the textured stone walls following the crevices where the individual stones had been fitted together to make a wall.  He felt forward with his toes and found that the ground was even under the dusting of dislodged pebbles and dirt. With his hands, he found another incised carving of the snakes embracing around a winged staff near the ceiling of the tunnel. It tingled when he traced it and when he pressed his whole hand against it, it warmed up as the one above had done, and the stone screeched open again, allowing light to flood into the underground cavern. After the cascade of dirt and pebbles stopped raining down on them, Harry breathed out a deep sigh. 

“We’re not going to be trapped down here,” Harry whispered in Parseltongue. 

“There’s always another way out,” Nio reassured. 

Harry and Nio decided that it would be better to leave the door open so that Hedwig would know where to find them. It seemed unlikely that other people would be exploring this deserted area.  

“I can’t believe I’m going down into tunnels again. We just escaped the tunnels—wait—was that two days ago? It seems like an eternity,” Harry sighed. “I can’t believe I’m here again. At least I have you, Nio. ”

“And it’s just us. No recent scents of manic leg-walkers with the chaos sticks. This place has belonged to the earth dwellers for a long time. A long, long time,” Nio’s head bobbed up and down under Harry’s chin as his tongue tasted the air. “It is safe down here. It smells like home.”

Harry swung his staff from side to side, touching the walls on either side and with his left hand, traced it on the wall, ghosting it over the surface as tall and as low as he could reach wondering if there were other carved symbols that would awaken the magic of the tunnels. 

Nio warned him of a metal structure sticking out of the wall near the ceiling and Harry held his staff in the crook of his arm so that he could examine it with both hands. After a bit of puzzling, he decided it was a wall-sconce to hold a torch. 

“Don’t really need that, do we?” Harry chuckled. 

As they progressed down the tunnel that sloped gently, gradually going deeper and deeper into the earth, Harry found that the wall sconces were evenly placed on either side of the tunnel. 

“I think we’re nearing the center of the stone circle,” Nio noted. 

“How do you know?”

“I can feel the space opening up. We’re approaching a larger space. Also, I can hear water. Can’t you?”

Harry stilled for a second, listening hard. He could hear a faint trickling noise and it did sound as if the space were larger ahead. 

“What is this place?” Harry asked in wonder, his hissing voice echoing ahead and revealing a much larger space than he imagined possible from the steps he’d taken from the center of the stone circle to find the rock they’d sunned themselves on. 

His staff was no longer touching the wall on his right as he made his way forward, left hand still exploring the wall. Nio drew in a deep breath as the wall came to a corner and Harry walked into the larger space; cool, fresh air lapped against his face. 

“What is it?”

“It is a good place… water, air, food… and I think there must be another way to reach the sun’s warmth. There are tunnels going in many directions.”

“What do you mean food?” Harry asked. 

“Your kind of food… the kind that grows in the earth… it dangles from the ceiling, near the pool.”

“Like roots?” Harry asked. 

“There are always lots of insects near the roots,” Nio said with undisguised glee.

Nio directed Harry to walk across the room. The silver tip on his staff told him that the ceiling rounded up high above his head in the center and that there were evenly spaced tunnels entering into the central space… he imagined that each one led to a stone up in the circle above based on their spacing. 

Harry’s staff tinged against stone and the gurgling water was louder on this side of the room. 

Nio instructed him to kneel down—that he was at the pool’s edge.   

Harry found that the pool was bordered with a short wall that formed a bench around it. He sat on it and dipped his fingers in the cool water, bringing some up to splash on his face. 

“Why’d you do that?” Nio sputtered, indignant. 

Harry rubbed the water on the back of his neck and discovered that he was coated in dirt. 

“It feels good,” Harry said, leaning closer to the water and cupping his hands to drink some. “Oh, that’s the best water I’ve ever tasted. Where are the roots?”

Nio told him to stand up and follow the pool’s border to the wall. There Harry discovered that an alcove had been carved out of the stone wall and roots hung down from the ceiling. Nio told him that there was another one on the other side of the spring that ran down the wall, filling the pool. 

Harry climbed up into the alcove and felt the hanging tendrils—a network of roots; some were as thin as threads and others were full and heavy. He tugged on one and came easily. 

“What do you think? Safe for me to eat?” He asked, holding it to the snake’s nose under his chin. 

“Smells like sweet earth to me, if you like that sort of thing,” Nio replied. 

Harry climbed down from the alcove and took the root to the pool where he washed it off and pulled off the thread-like hairs. The top of the root was a feathery fan of leaves that smelled crisp and sharp. 

Tentatively, Harry bit into it and it made a satisfying crunch. Sweetness exploded in his mouth. 

“Oh, it’s good. A carrot. Best carrot I’ve ever had.”

From a long way away, Harry heard a hoot. 

“Oh, Hedwig’s noticed that we’re down here,” Harry said, taking another bite of the carrot. 

She hooted again and Harry’s head shot up. It was an alarm.

Chapter Text

Harry shook out his staff while he asked it to direct him to Hedwig. He shoved the carrot in his pocket and hurried toward Hedwig’s urgent hoots. He closed his eyes as he neared the entrance, the bright light making him wince. The distance seemed much shorter on the return trip. 

“Hedwig!” he called, choking on the dust he stirred up in the corridor. 

Her hoot in response was much calmer and his heart started to slow. She was alarmed because he had disappeared… there wasn’t a threat.  

His staff tinged against the bottom stair, and he climbed up into the warm, July air. Hedwig’s wings cuffed him on the forehead as she dug her talons into his shoulder. Nio hissed in protest. 

“Oi! I’m all right. We were just exploring. Oi! Lighten up!” Harry slipped a finger under the talon gripping his shoulder. “You’re hurting me.”

Hedwig cooed in apology, bobbing on his shoulder and shifting her weight while she lessened her grip and Harry ran his fingers through her downy belly feathers. 

“You’ve got to check this out. It’s brilliant!” he said, pivoting on the stair and finding the adjacent wall with his free hand. She started to lift off his shoulder, but then grumped acquiescence and settled back down, nipping at his ear. Nio tightened on his neck, shying away from Hedwig’s talons.

Harry closed the stone opening at the bottom of the stairs. Hedwig hooted in alarm again, but he assured her that it was easy to open. She grumped and tightened her grip. 

“The owl doesn’t like being underground?” Nio asked with a feigned innocence. 

“No, it’s really not her thing,” Harry said, wincing as her talons dug in. 

Harry found his way to the spring more quickly this time… he heard it’s quiet bubbling earlier now that he knew what to listen for. 

Hedwig hopped down from his shoulder as he bent over to find the edge of the spring with his outstretched hand. Her talons scratched on the stone as she found a purchase. He rubbed the sore spots on his shoulder then felt along the stone wall until he found a place where he could sit next to her. She was moving back and forth on the ledge next to the water and he reached out to try to figure out what she was doing. Her feathers were wet. 

“Are you bathing, then?” he asked with a laugh. 

Hedwig growled in response and he took his hand away when she shook her head, sprinkling him with droplets of water. Harry took the carrot out of his pocket, dunked it in the pool to get the pocket lint off and crunched into it. It was so tasty that he even tried eating the leafy tops, but they were too bitter. He followed the edge of the pool to the alcove and pushed the carrot top into a corner the alcove floor and climbed up into it to grab another carrot, pulling out some wriggling worms for Nio at the same time. 

He climbed down, shook the dirt from his hair, and found a comfy spot next to the spring, where he could lean against the cool wall and rest his arm on the low wall surrounding the spring. Nio slid down his arm to eat his meal on the wall. Harry ate the second carrot more slowly, savoring the crisp sweetness. 

He yawned and stretched. He was nodding off, but the spring’s constant spray of water kept waking him up so he decided to see if he could find a spot that was a little more dry. He stood up and shook out his staff and walked around the spring to check out the other alcove that Nio had described. It was also full of carrots hanging from the ceiling, as well as rounder vegetables that Harry guessed were turnips. He wrinkled his nose at the memory of Aunt Petunia’s stewed turnips. 

He started exploring the tunnel on the other side of the alcove when Nio spoke from the floor behind him, asking where he was going. 

“Oh, I thought you were sleeping. I was just trying to find a drier place to take a nap,” Harry said as he bent down and stretched his hand toward the little snake. Nio coiled around his wrist and suggested that he try the tunnel entrance just beyond the one they were in. Harry held his hand up to his neck so that Nio could transfer to a more stable perch. 

Harry took a few steps and noticed that the surface of the floor changed from slightly uneven dirt to smooth stone. The taps from the silver tip of his staff echoed off the stone giving him a sense of the space in front of him. 

“Is it a small room?” Harry asked. 

“It looks rather spacious to me,” the snake replied. 

Harry reached up above his head sensing that the lintel was low. It was high enough that he didn’t have to bend down, but he guessed that Ron would have to if he were here. The entryway to this space was almost a perfect circle, except where the wall met the floor and it was bordered by small tiles that were precisely placed. Harry stepped into the space and reached forward with his staff and his left hand. His hand followed the wall and his staff found another wall right in front of him. He was confused because the wall under his hand made it seem as if the space were bigger than the wall at his feet indicated. He reached forward into the space above his staff and found that it was empty. When he lowered his hand, he found an earthen ledge carved out of the wall. He held his staff in the crook of his elbow and bent over, following the contours until he determined its full size and shape.

“Is this a bed nook?” Harry asked Nio.

“A what?” Nio asked. 

“A place to sleep?”

“Looks like it could be for you,” Nio conceded.

Harry crawled onto the ledge and laid down on it. It was not only long enough for him to stretch out completely, but he could also extend his arms above his head without touching the other wall. He hurried down and toed off his shoes, then summoned the velvety dress robes from his staff as well as some shirts that he stuffed into his book bag to make a pillow. He pulled the invisibility cloak around himself as he laid down on the cloak-covered ledge, pulling at it until it was comfortable and the ties weren’t digging into his wrists.  

Nio slid off his neck and coiled up under his chin. There was a burst of dust and wings as Hedwig joined them that roused Harry as he was starting to drift off. She settled on the ledge by his feet, turning around a few times with a couple growls and then quieting down.

Harry drifted asleep with a smile playing on his lips. He felt safer in this hidden den than he’d felt in a long while and he had two stalwart friends by his side.  

oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo 

Harry awoke to Nio’s tongue wisping against his cheek. He brought his hand out from under his chin and gently traced the scaled head of his friend. 

“Is it time for the treacle tart?”

“What is treacle tart?” asked Nio.

“Only the most delectable thing you can imagine,” Harry said as he woke up a bit more and licking his lips. He discovered a trail of spit that was pooling under his chin. He sat up and wiped it off and rubbed at his eyes. Hedwig grumbled when his feet knocked into her. 

“Sorry, Hedwig.”

Harry put Nio on his neck, stuffed his cloak and bookbag back into his staff, then shook out his staff. But as he was doing that, it vibrated again. He sat down on the ledge and summoned the tablet that Peter and Gemma had given him. He ran his fingers over the surface and found that he had messages waiting for him. A lot of messages. 

He sighed and started running his fingers over the raised dots, slowly deciphering the code. He slid until his back was against the wall and balanced the slate on his knees. 

“What are you doing?” Nio asked. 

“Oh, my friends sent me messages. I’m reading them,” Harry said, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated. A wish that he was a faster reader pushed against his throat, but he swallowed it, reminding himself of what Madam Flamel had told him and his classmates repeatedly… learning braille takes time and the only way to get faster is to practice. And that’s what I’m doing.

He skimmed the messages, trying to decide if he should read the most recent ones first. Finally, he decided that he should read them in order and he made his way through them. Gemma was just checking in, letting him know that she’d made it home. Peter did the same thing… his message was a little less effusive and more to the point, which Harry appreciated. Then Gemma sent a message that alarmed him… Professor McGonagall had contacted her to say that Harry had run off and Gemma was worried about him. 

Harry put the slate down. He knew Professor McGonagall would reach out to his friends … but it had all happened so quickly. He remembered how McGonagall had said that she had ways to watch him and he wondered how far the spell extended. Could it find him here? Hours had passed and she hadn’t burst in on him. He wondered if it was due to his invisibility cloak. Maybe it kept him hidden from magic as well as sight. In the tunnels under the Center, he had learned that it was a lot more powerful than he’d ever understood before. He pulled it close, glad he’d tied it to his wrists so that it didn’t slide off while he was sleeping. 

Harry sent a short message to both Gemma and Peter letting them know that he was safe, but didn’t tell them where he was. 

“I don’t even know where we are…” Harry whispered to Nio, who twitched. Apparently, the snake had dozed off again. “And I need some time to figure out what I’m doing. This seems like a good place to lie low for a little bit. I wish Hermione and Ron had tablets like this. It would be so good to be able to talk to them, too.” 

He thought about sending some galleons to Hermione and asking her to go to Diagon Alley to buy one for herself and Ron. 

Ron would be weird about it, he thought and then tried to figure out a way to make Ron accept the gift as a favor to him… Hermione would totally do it to help me learn braille… Ron, not so much. He sighed. It’s not like he could send Hedwig out on shopping trips right now. He was pretty sure that Professor McGonagall (and no doubt the Ministry) would be on the lookout for a snowy white owl.

How long could I hide out here? Until term starts again? What will the Ministry do when I turn up at Platform 9 and ¾ expecting to catch the Hogwarts express? I’m sure Professor McGonagall will have some choice words for me, Harry thought. Then he shook his head, stored his tablet in his staff, transferred Nio to his belly, and stuffed the cloak and book bag back into his staff - disturbing Hedwig in the process. She hopped off the bench in a huff and he heard her talons scratching on the stone surrounding the pool of water. 

He stood up, extending his staff in front of him and deciding to explore the tunnels some more to distract himself from his maudlin thoughts. 

Who created this place? He kept wondering as he ran his hands over the earthen walls, sometimes encountering intricate pieces of tile placed into the wall, often around the sconces meant for torches. It made him think that this place was really old. 

Older than Dumbledore, even.

His staff moved forward into an empty space, no longer touching the uneven ground in front of him. Harry stopped as his staff warned him of a sudden dropoff. He poked downward with the staff and it splashed into water, but didn’t find the earth. He cocked his head to listen carefully and could hear the water gently lapping. His staff had disturbed a pool of water. He was surprised that he hadn’t heard the difference in the echoes… but then realized that he’d been caught up in his thoughts and not paying attention as closely as he should have been. 

Godric would have admonished me.

He stood still and realized that he could feel a slight tremor under his feet. 

There must be an underground creek flowing to this pool. 

Harry held his staff up in the air and asked it to describe the area. It sounded very much like the underground caverns where he’d learn to swim at the Center—complete with stalagmites and stalactites—and he wondered if there was an egress connecting him to the Center nearby. Hope rose in his throat. He inhaled deeply, rolling the musty scent over his tongue and around his teeth wondering if it was the same. It was similar, but there was something missing. This wasn’t the same place even if it reminded him of it. He closed his eyes, wishing fervently, that he could return to the Center. 

Even if I went back there… they’d probably have to give me over to the Ministry, anyway, he conceded. When did his life get so difficult?

He remembered a green spark. It was probably before that even. He was born difficult. There was no getting around it. He sighed. 

He curled into a ball at the edge of the water and thought about just tipping forward. But Nio was on his neck. He couldn’t do that to Nio. He shook the horrifying thought from his head. 

Where did that come from? 

It scared him. He knelt before the water and inhaled. It smelled good. He reached out and slipped his hand into the cool water. The invisibility cloak was caught up on his back, pulling at his wrists. He thought about shedding it and all his clothes to go for a swim to clear his head; wash away the moroseness. For a moment he thought about taking off the invisibility cloak. It was getting annoying… but he was pretty sure it was the reason he hadn’t been found yet. He slipped his wrists out of the ties and undid the laces on his shoes, toeing off his trainers. Then he took off his pants, socks, and trousers. Nio grumbled at his neck, but didn’t wake up. 

He used his staff to determine the size of the pool in front of him and where would be the best place to enter the water. He found a gradual slope off to the side that was paved with smooth stones. 

“ Nio,” he said. “I’m going to set you here by the pool in my clothes. I’m going to swim.” He gently took the snake from his neck and laid him on the puddle of his shorts, pants, and socks. The snake hissed slightly, clearly still asleep. 

Harry pulled off his shirt and eased into the water as he tied the cloak to his wrists and ankles again. The cloak flowed around him as if it were water, too. He kept feeling for it, afraid it would float away. But after a bit, he could feel the slight difference in temperature it provided. It wasn’t the intense warmth that he had felt in the null zone under the Center. This pool was cool and refreshing and the cloak made a pocket of warmth that was cozy. The waves were a gentle balm that lapped against his collarbone and splashed into his face as he moved. He pulled in a deep breath and let his head sink under the water, crossing his legs so that he was sitting on the muddy floor of the pool, swaying back and forth with the gentle current. 

“I could get used to this,” he thought. “This isn’t so bad. How long could I stay here? Until the beginning of term? Maybe? For the rest of my life… possibly?”

He pushed his head through the surface of the water and took a big gasping breath. 

“Sthei!” Nio gasped from the water’s edge. “Where did you go? I thought I’d lost you!”

“ Nio, it’s okay. I just needed a swim.” 

“Why? Why in earth would you need to swim?”

“It just sounded nice,” Harry said, sheepishly. 

“Are you mad?” the snake asked. 

“No, I don’t think so,” Harry said, thoughtfully. “It feels good. Don’t snakes swim? The Basilisk came out of a big pool of water.”

“Oh, so we’re all like the Basilisk, now? Are we?”

“Er, I didn’t… mean…” Harry sputtered while Nio hissed a laugh. 

“You’re so gullible! It’s hard to resist!” Nio chortled. 

“Hey! That’s not fair!” Harry said, splashing water playfully in Nio’s direction. He expected Nio to hiss in response, but then didn’t hear anything. He stood up and started walking toward the pool’s ledge where he’d left the snake, hands reaching for the side when a small lithe body slid over the back of his hand. He pulled it back, startled, and yelped. Then Nio was coiling around his neck, making his hissing laughter in Harry’s ear. 

Harry ducked under the water and swam a little ways using the frog movements he’d learned in lessons at the Center and rose to the surface when Nio ’s coils tightened on his windpipe. He slid a finger under the snake’s body to tug away. 

“ Sthei, try gliding. Like this.” Nio slid off his neck like a ribbon caught by the wind and disappeared from Harry’s perception. He moved his hands through the water in front of him, trying to find his friend, but came up empty.

“I can imagine that you’re moving through the water just as you glide through the grass, Nio . But remember? I can’t see you,” Harry called after the snake.

“Oh, right. I forgot.” Nio’s tongue whispered across his ear. Harry splashed in surprise. 

“Hey!” Their hissing laughter reverberated off the cavern walls as they dissolved into giggles, which only got worse when Harry tried swimming like a snake.

They played for a long time, splashing, teasing each other about how they moved through the water, their laughter fading in gasps until a disapproving hoot from Hedwig made them start afresh.  Finally, they flopped onto the ledge of the pool and Harry summoned some old clothes from his staff to use as towels to dry themselves off.  

“Oh, I really need to use the loo!” Harry sighed. 

“Didn’t you just relieve yourself in the pool?” the snake asked. 

“What? No!” Harry said in alarm. “ Did you?”

“Of course! It just washes down stream. Much better than having to slide through at a later date.”

“Ugh! Nio! Surely there’s a spot here for taking care of that business. It has everything else one needs.”

“You leg walkers sure need a lot of space for all your doings.” Nio started moving across the edge of the pool.  “I think there is a spot over here.”

Harry followed for a bit, then insisted that Nio let him pick him up so that he didn’t worry about stepping on him when he was already navigating the narrow edge of the pool. In his haste to take care of his needs, he’d decided to just go starkers. His clothes were wet anyway from all the splashing. Hedwig and Nio didn’t care… and his staff verified that no one else was in the underground tunnels… and beside that it was pitch dark and he was still covered by the invisibility cloak. 

I’m not really starkers, if you consider the cloak . 

The cavern narrowed and became more of a tunnel once more. A warm wind blew up the passage bringing the scent of sea water and Harry could tell that there was light ahead, but it wasn’t bright. 

Hedwig hooted and flew past them, docking Harry in the head as she passed. 

“Hey! Where are you going?” he called after her. Her reply was short and he took it to mean that he shouldn’t worry. 

“How do I know that?” he asked himself in parseltongue. Nio squeezed his neck in agreement once he explained. 

And then there was an alcove on the other side of the tunnel where Harry discovered a loo of sorts. Tucked behind a curving wall there was a ledge with a hole in the center. Harry could hear the rushing water of a fast moving stream that sped underneath the hole. On the wall was a small spring that he guessed would be handy for washing one’s hands and face. He was curious about where the water went and his exploring fingers found a moss covered slit against the wall. The stone was smooth and on either wall there were sconces for torches. 

“Well, I think we could live here for a long while, Nio,” Harry said as he washed his hands after he’d taken care of his needs. “I just need to remember the spell for drying clothes.” 

Chapter Text

Harry, Hedwig, and Nio had been living in the tunnels under the stone circle for a few days and Harry was starting to wonder how long he could survive on carrots. So much so that he was starting to take Nio’s suggestions that he branch out to insects seriously. Not for the first time, he found himself sniffing an earthworm when Hedwig’s hoot echoed from the long tunnel that ended in a pin-prick of light.

Harry stepped away from the hanging garden and waited until Hedwig had settled on the stone ledge by the pool of water in the main atrium. She growled at him. 

“What is it Hedwig?” Harry asked as he found a seat by her and brought his hands up to find her back. She was hopping on one foot. 

“Are you injured?” Harry asked, following the contours of her wings down to her legs, gently assuring that she was okay. That’s when he discovered a rolled parchment clutched in her talon. 

“Oi! What’s this? A letter? How could someone find you to send a message to me?” Harry wondered while his stomach clenched at the thought of being found. 

He fiddled with the leather ties that secured the scroll to Hedwig’s leg and then found an edge so that he could unfurl it. It didn’t open easily and he traced his fingers over the tightly rolled scroll until he found a wax seal. The seal had an imprint of swirling lines that he puzzled over for a bit before breaking it. He unrolled it and ran his fingers over the thick parchment, but found the slightly gummy lines of ink instead of the raised dots he expected. 

“Someone sent me a written message?” he mused. He shook his staff out of his holster and summoned his anagnóstis so that he could read the message. He found the top edge of the paper, unrolled it, and started running it over the paper until a familiar voice spoke in his ear. 

“Harry - Please don’t be alarmed.” He paused, trying to place the voice. 

“Ron’s dad, right. Mr. Weasley,” he assured himself and let out the breath he was holding. 

He touched the anagnóstis to the parchment again and continued listening to the message. 

“I know that you’ve run away from your Aunt and Uncle’s house, Professor McGonagall, and the Ministry. We are all very worried about your safety—especially with Sirius Black still evading the Aurors. Please let us know that you are safe. Be assured that we were only able to contact Hedwig through Errol and that only worked because both owls trust us and know that our intentions are in your best interest. We can’t follow Hedwig to you, but we have duplicated the slate that your friend Gemma is using to communicate with you. Ron has one and so does Hermione. Please write to them. We want to help you. We will not allow the Ministry of Magic to hold you in the Department of Mysteries. Professor McGonagall deeply regrets the errors she made and wants me to assure you that we’ll find a safe place for you away from the Dursleys and away from the Ministry. She is making certain that Hogwarts will be a safe space for you when classes begin in September. We have returned from Egypt and Hermione has returned from France and both families would gladly welcome you into our homes. Your friends are very worried about your well-being. You are not alone in this. Healer Jordan has also asked me to assure you that the Center will support you in any way it can. We all want to make sure that you are safe. You have found a way to hide from all the magical and mundane ways to find you… which is very impressive for a nearly 13-year-old wizard. Even though Gemma and Peter assure us that you are safe, we need to hear from you directly… and we miss you and beg you to return to us—Arthur Weasley on behalf of your friends and loved ones: the Weasleys, the Grangers, the Center, and Hogwarts.”

Harry leaned back against the damp wall next to the spring and sighed. He paused in the act of summoning his slate out of his staff. He did want to talk to them. While he felt a certain freedom in these underground tunnels that he couldn’t ever recall experiencing before, he was also lonely. Sure, he had Nio and Hedwig and they were great company… it was so much better than the times he’d been locked in his room or the cupboard at Privet Drive… but it wasn’t quite the same as the companionship he’d felt at Hogwarts with Ron and Hermione or at the Center with Gemma. 

Hedwig’s talons were scratching on the stone wall that contained the spring—Harry guessed that she was drinking water. 

“So, what do you think, Hedwig? Is it safe for me to go to the Weasley’s? Or to the Granger’s?” Harry asked without expecting a response. 

He was surprised by Hedwig’s gentle coo. 

“Safer than down here?”

She cooed again, but with a note of concern.

“Hmmm. I wonder what Nio thinks,” Harry said, getting to his feet. He was comfortable enough navigating the tunnels now that he didn’t need to shake out his staff. Unlike the tunnels under the Center, these were uniformly carved into the earth and there were no unexpected stalactites or stalagmites to worry about. He’d also stashed his glasses in his staff because he didn’t have to worry about sudden bright lights. He could even run through the corridors without worrying about tripping, just trailing his fingers on the curved wall to avoid running into walls. When he got chilled, he just went up to the stone circle and sunned on a rock (after making sure no one was nearby). 

Harry jogged along the tunnel to the alcove where he’d left Nio sleeping off a rather large meal of earthworms. 

“ Sthei! Is something wrong?” Nio asked in a sleepy slur, when Harry found his coils on the velvety cloak.  

“Oh, sorry. No. It’s just that Hedwig brought a letter from Mr. Weasley and my friends… they want me to go to their home. They are worried about my safety.”

“But this is heaven. They should come here and stay with us. There are enough carrots and earthworms for everyone!” Nio suggested. 

Harry smiled at the thought of the Weasleys and the Grangers joining him in this underground paradise. 

“Hmmm. That’s a thought. I was just kind of thinking that we could keep this place as our secret… in case we need it again. And maybe the next time we stay here, I could pack more food. I mean, it has been great. And I feel really lucky that we found it and that we’ve been safe here,” Harry said as a cool breeze swirled around him, lifting his fringe.  

“Do you think your adelphi will welcome me?” Nio said in a low hiss. 

“Of course! They have a really great house and there is a huge garden with lots of insects. I think you’ll like it there,” Harry said. “And I’d really love it if you came with me.” 

Harry turned his ear toward a sound that echoed down the tunnel. Noises were strange down here. All the surface noises that Harry was used to were gone. It was even more silent than the passages under the Center because there was no city rumbling around them. But down here, when there was a sound, it would echo off the walls, traveling great distances. Water pinged off of rocks and the wind sometimes howled and whistled as it made its way along the tunnels from the seaside cliffs. 

And then there was the shrill cacophony above an ocean of flapping wings that heralded Hedwig’s surprising nesting bats from one of the alcoves. Harry had jumped in the pool fully clothed to get out of the way, much to Nio’s shock. They had crouched in the water waiting for the waves of bats to disappear. Hedwig had quite happily feasted on winged rodents that night, but Harry and Nio had returned to the main atrium so that she could enjoy her feast in peace. Harry wrote to Gemma and Peter after that and asked them to remind him of the spell for drying clothes. He practiced it until it was firmly lodged in his brain. 

This time, the noise wasn’t a hoard of terrified bats, but an almost imperceivable whispering and the occasional dislodging of pebbles. 

“Who’s there?” Harry asked in Parseltongue. He felt Nio ’s head turn to the noise at the same time he asked. 

“No one is there, Sthei ,” Nio confirmed. 

“Are you sure? I heard someone.”

“I can’t see or smell anyone.”

“Not even another snake?”

“That’s what I said.”

Harry shook out his staff and squeezed it for a description of the space as the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. The staff described their sleeping alcove and the tunnel without mentioning anything that could be making the noises that Harry thought he heard. He shrugged it off, reasoning that if it didn’t spook Nio , then he was probably fine. It was probably just the breeze from the seaside cliff opening where Hedwig flew in and out of the tunnels. 

He and Nio had walked all the way down to the opening the other day and spent the evening listening to the waves crash below on the cliff wall while Hedwig hunted above them. Nio had a hard time coming up with words to describe what he was seeing… the vastness of the ocean, the tremendous drop to jagged rocks below, the angry waves tearing at the cliff walls, and the colors of the ocean and the sky meeting were more than he could express, but in his attempt Harry could imagine. The wet, sea air filled in the rest as did the thunderous storm that hammered the coast that evening and drove them back to the protection of the atrium. Harry winced as he remembered the piercing pain of the lightning tearing across his vision.

“I’m going to write to Ron and tell him that I’m ready to fly to the Burrow. Okay?”

“Yes, Sthei. Talk to your Adelphi. Tell them that we will fly through the air like owls and meet them. I hope they have as many insects as you promise. But I’m with you no matter where we go. We are our own Adelphi now. Even Hedwig is part of our Adelphi, damned though she is with a sharp beak and talons. We’ll be safe from all those who wish you harm? Your Adelphi will keep us safe from their blasted sticks and the mad dog?”

“Yes, I think so, Nio. And there will be more for me to eat,” Harry sighed, wishing he knew spells for transforming carrots into roasts, buttered rolls, and treacle tarts.

Harry settled onto the ledge that served as his bed and pulled the tablet from his staff. 

“Oi, Ron,” he wrote. 

Moments later, a response vibrated through the tablet and Harry ran his fingertips over it. 

“Harry! Is that you? You all right, mate?”

“Peachy,” Harry responded. “Your Dad sent a note. I’ll fly to the burrow tomorrow morning. Hedwig will go ahead to guide you. All right?  I’ll message when I’m leaving. Have cloak, so follow Hedwig,” Harry wrote, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on writing in braille. He ran his fingers over the message a few times, assuring himself that he hadn’t reversed any e’s or i’s in the process. He didn’t need Ron to take the mickey out of him for spelling.

“Smashing. Can’t wait to see you! Egypt was amazing! I have so much to tell you. This slate is bloody brill by the way. Though I’m worried about it in Hermione’s hands. She’s going to have us writing scrolls for Transfiguration before the term begins.”

Harry snorted at this and sighed. He wasn’t quite ready to consider how he was going to manage his courses yet. He was still bloody slow at writing in braille, and reading it was still torturous. He supposed some time this summer with Hermione would help. Maybe she’d come to the Burrow, too?

He asked Ron to invite her and then stashed his slate, yawning as he prepared for bed. Harry has asked his staff to wake him at dawn. In the tunnels, he had no idea of the time and so frequently checked his staff.  Nio settled in next to him and Hedwig cooed at them as she passed by, taking off down the tunnel for her nightly hunting. 

“oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo

Dawn was heralded by the melodic voice emitting from Harry’s staff secured in his holster and Harry rubbed his eyes and stretched. Nio protested as Harry stuffed the cloaks they slept on into his staff, then stumbled down the tunnel to the bathing spring. He figured a dip in the waters would help him prepare for the journey. He savored the time in the waters… while cooler than the baths at Hogwarts, they were refreshing and he’d miss the luxury of being able to float around whenever he fancied. He figured that he could always return if he needed. This sanctuary was his secret spot. He had made sure his staff had recorded the location so that he could return here whenever he needed. And he knew that Hedwig and Nio would also be able to direct him here, too. 

“I’ll never have to return to the Dursleys,” Harry whispered to himself as he floated on his back, listening to the water-distorted echoes of the underground stream.

Harry used the drying charm on his curls, running his fingers through his hair until it was dry enough. It was a bit fussy to have to do everything with the cloak on… but if it kept him from being detected by everyone’s tracking charms, then it was worth the hassle. Once he was dry, he dressed under the cloak. He stuffed some carrots into his book bag, filled his water bottle, and made sure the ties holding his cloak on his wrists and ankles were secure. He took in a deep breath and then sent a note to Ron on his slate, knowing that he was probably waking Ron up. 

Ron’s response was quicker than he expected… maybe he was as eager as Harry for the day to start. 

“You headed out already, mate?” 

“Yep. We’re flying your way.”

“Which direction do we go?” Ron asked. 

“I dunno? Toward the ocean?”

“Right. You said you were on the coast. Okay. We’ll follow the Otter River and fly toward Sidmouth.”

“Okay. I’ll send Hedwig ahead to meet you. See you in a bit.”

“Right. SEE you.”

Harry groaned and then stuffed his slate back into his staff. He stood in the atrium for a moment.

“Good-bye. You’ve been good to me. I won’t forget you,” Harry whispered. He didn’t know to whom he spoke, but he felt like there was someone or something listening. A breeze blew across his face, raising the hair on his arms, but not in an alarming way. It was peaceful. Accepting. 

“Right. Thank you,” he said to the empty air in front of him. 

“Who are you talking to?” Nio asked. 

“I feel like someone is listening,” Harry muttered in Parseltongue.  He shrugged at Nio’s questioning hiss and walked toward the staircase. When his toe contacted the first step, he brushed his hand over the wall about shoulder height until he located the markings that opened the stone slab. 

He stood with his fingertips on the edge of the etched staff and serpents carving and hesitated.

“I want to repay your kindness,” he spoke aloud. 

The breeze stirred his fringe. 

“I’ll come back and I’ll plant more food… I’ll ask Neville… he’ll know what can grow down here.”

A warm wind brushed his cheek and then whistled softly as it swirled around Harry and then moved away, back down the tunnels.

Relieved, Harry pressed his hand over the snake entwined staff and closed his eyes tight as the stone groaned and air and light flooded the entryway. The early morning air was cooler than the tunnels and Harry shivered and pulled the cloak around him. The sun wasn’t high enough yet to be too bright, but he took a moment to put his glasses on for when it would be too bright, and then sat astride his broom. He pulled the cloak around him, trying to cover as much of his broom as he could. Hedgwig hooted from a nearby tree as she took off, chattering as she neared him so that he’d know where she was. Nio squeezed Harry’s neck as he lifted into the air and navigated toward the Burrow. 

“Hedwig, go on ahead and find Ron. They are following the Otter River to Sidmouth,” Harry called out. 

 She responded with a low hoot that receded as she flew away. 

It felt good to fly again. Nio reported that the coastline was below them, which was confirmed by the buffeting winds that carried the strong scent of brine and occasionally fish as they passed over port towns and their fish markets. It didn’t take long for the sun to warm them and then to start baking them. Harry was glad that he hadn’t put on his jumper.  It wasn’t too long into the journey when his staff vibrated indicating that they should turn north. 

“This is a much shorter trip than when we flew away from Privet Drive,” Harry commented to Nio. Nio squirmed at his bellybutton where he’d dropped earlier. He really didn’t like flying. 

Harry turned his ear north, too, thinking that he’d heard a voice. 

“ Nio, can you come back up here? I think I heard Ron,” Harry said, nudging the snake with his free hand and helping him navigate back up to his neck. 

“Eep. We are still very high up, Sthei! ” Nio protested. 

“Yes, we’re not at the Burrow yet.” 

“This Burrow sounds cozy. Is it underground?” Nio sounded hopeful. 

“No, but do you see Hedwig?” Harry was distracted.

“Aw, yes. She’s a bright speck headed this way,” Nio paused for a second. “And I believe there are two legwalkers on flying sticks are following her… Oh, no wait. There are so many of them… with hair like fire. They are zooming around like swallows.”

“The whole family came?” Harry asked in awe. He wondered if Mrs. Weasley was up on a broom, too. “Won’t people see them? 

Their voices were now reaching Harry, carried by the wind which had changed direction. They were chattering as if on a holiday outing, with no concern about muggles or ministry officials who might see them. 

“Of course,” Harry laughed as he thought to himself. “ If they snuck off they would look more suspicious. This is their perfect undercover operation!”

As their noise grew nearer, he began to wonder if they knew he was there. He was starting to get nervous as his broom warned him of obstacles in his path. He started flying defensively and calling out to them. 

“Oi! Watch where you’re going!” he yelled as the twigs of a broom clipped him in the forehead, nearly dragging off his hood. He pulled it back into place. 

“Harry? Are you here? We can’t see you!” hooted George as he sped away. 

“The unseeing is unseen? Unheard of!” shouted Fred, not far behind his twin. 

Harry thought about pushing the hood of the cloak down so that they’d see his head, but then worried that they’d be set upon by the ministry. 

“Did you see Harry?” Ginny called out, zooming uncomfortably close beneath Harry. He pulled up on his broom and then his staff warned him he was on another collision course. Nio was clutching at his neck and not offering any guidance, much to Harry’s dismay. He felt like a bludger richoteching off of the beater’s clubs. 

“Could you at least charm your brooms with bells,” Harry called out after another near miss… he was pretty sure it was Mr. Weasley this time. 

“He’s over here!” Ron called, his voice getting louder as he neared Harry. 

“Yes, I’m right here!” Harry called out as he spiraled away from Ron, his trainer connecting uncomfortably with some part of Ron’s anatomy. 

“Omph! Why’d you do that for?” Ron groaned. 

“Couldn’t see you, mate!” Harry called over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure if he should climb higher or try to land. He decided to go higher and keep flying to the Burrow. 

“Where are you going?” Ron called after him.

“Aren’t we going to the Burrow?” Harry called. 

Mrs. Weasley did seem to be up on a broom. She called out to Harry, “Harry, dear. Where are you? I’ve got a basket of sandwiches for you!” 

“Oh, that sounds heavenly!” Harry called, his mouth watering at the memory of her roast beef sandwiched between hearty pieces of bread dripping with hot horseradish mayonnaise. He caught a whiff of the heavenly concoctions and nearly fell off his broom as he lurched her way. He righted himself and then realized that the object coming at him quickly must be her.

“Oh, I can’t manage them up here, Mrs. Weasley. As much as I’d love to be able to!” he said, skirting around her and muttering his apologies over his shoulder. 

“Oh, right. Silly me!” she chided herself. “No worries. We’re nearly home. They’ll still be hot. Ron said you’d been living on carrots for nearly a week!”

“So you fell down the rabbit hole! Have you turned into the Mad Hatter, then?” teased George as he swooped by and then slowed to keep pace with Harry. “Or are you a doormouse now?” asked Fred from his other side. 

“Oh, let him be!” Ginny defended Harry from above. 

Hedwig hooted from the front of the flying formation and Harry heard her descending.

“So, have we arrived?” he asked. 

“Yep, we’re going to land on the Quidditch pitch,” Ron told him. 

“Harry, just stay with us and you’ll be fine,” Mr. Weasley assured. 

Harry wasn’t so sure. Nio was hissing incomprehensibly in Parseltongue making Harry wonder if there was a snake deity that he was praying to. 

“Give him some space, Fred and George,” Percy shouted imperiously from behind.

“All right, we’re landing now. Everyone make room for Harry to land,” a voice deep like Mr. Weasley’s commanded, but different. Harry momentarily lost focus and then pulled up on his broom as the vibrations indicated that he was closer to the earth than he realized. He jumped off his broom, the cloak tied to his ankle catching in the twigs and tripping a bit. He hoped that the cloak kept his stumbled landing from being apparent to everyone and straightened up. 

“Is it over?” Nio wheezed from his neck. Harry put a finger under his coils and pulled gently. 

“Yes, we’re here.”

“Oh, I imagine there are all sorts of tasty bugs in the rotting apples under these trees,” Nio observed. 

“I imagine!” Harry chuckled as Nio ’s head bobbed as he looked around. Harry pulled in a deep breath. Even though it wasn’t so far from where he’d been hiding, the air here was distinctly Burrow-ish. It was a good aroma. 

“Why are you hissing? Can’t you take the cloak off so we can see you? You’re safe now,” Ron said as he dismounted near Harry. 

“Harry!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed as she fumbled, smacking him on the shoulder as she tried to find him, then pulled him into an embrace. “There you are! We were so worried about you! Come on now. Let’s get you to the kitchen. A spot of tea, that’s what you need.”

She started pulling Harry across the Quidditch pitch. Harry stopped and shook out his staff. 

“Oh right. That’s it dear! You’ve got this,” she said, her voice holding an unexpected admiration as she let him make his way across the apple strewn field. He wondered if she could see his staff… He wasn't trying to conceal it under the cloak now that they were at the Burrow.

A thundering of footfalls and laughter sounded as the twins, Ginny, and Ron raced off to the broom shed to put away the brooms. 

“Harry, you can take off the cloak now. I’ve made special arrangements with the Ministry and Hogwarts for you to stay here with us. You’re safe now. We have extra protections and wards in case Sirius Black comes this way,” Mr. Weasley assured him. 

Harry cautiously pushed the hood of his cloak back onto his shoulders. George and Fred took great delight in Harry’s floating head, “Off with his head!” The gaggle of Weasleys charged up the steps to the kitchen where the mint was fragrant. 

The Weasley family buzzed around him, filling Harry in on their adventures in Egypt and peppering him with questions about how he managed to evade both the Ministry and Sirius Black on his broom. 

He stood in the center of the kitchen and struggled with the laces that kept the cloak tied to his wrists and ankles. They had become very tight with all the water and wind they’d been subjected to in the last week. 

“Harry, can I help you with that?” the deep voice asked. He was taller than Mr. Weasley. 

Harry’s eyebrows pulled together. 

“I’m Bill Weasley! I came back to help track Sirius Black. He was spotted in Surrey yesterday, but not captured. They are pretty sure he’s tracking you.” 

“Bill!” Mrs. Weasley said sharply. “You’ll frighten him!”

“Oh! Bill. That’s right. Ron’s oldest brother,” Harry said, trying to hide his shock that Black had tracked him to Privet Drive. Harry held his wrists out to Bill who tapped the ties with his wand while muttering a spell. Then they tackled his ankles and the tie at his throat. Harry swung the cloak off and was stuffing it into his staff along with his broom when Bill paused in midsentence asking if he could see it. 

“There’s a snake on your neck!” he said, stepping back. 

“Oh, yes. This is Nio ,” Harry introduced and then explained to Nio in parseltongue that Bill was Ron’s older brother. Nio reminded him that he didn’t know who Ron was either and then Harry introduced Nio to the whole family. They had different degrees of acceptance. George and Fred were the most accepting and Bill seemed to be afraid of snakes. He was relieved when Nio, overwhelmed with all the leg walkers, decided to retreat to Harry’s navel. Bill asked to see the cloak again.

“Oh, this is no ordinary invisibility cloak. Incredible. Where did you get it?” Bill asked as he turned around, the air stirring as he put it on.  

“It was my dad’s,” Harry said quietly. 

“Huh. A family heirloom. This is a treasure. Keep it safe,” Bill said, brushing it against Harry’s hand as he handed it back. 

The warmth of the Burrow’s kitchen filling his senses, Harry gulped a deep breath and smiled when Ron thumped him on the back and pushed him onto a bench at the big table in the center of the room. Hedwig cooed from a perch near the window, a teapot whistled over the fire and china clinked as the tea was set out. Harry could smell the roast beef sandwiches that had been set out on a platter in front of him. He was amazed how something this foreign—unlike anything he’d ever known—could feel like home.

Chapter Text

“Oi, Harry!” Ron shouted through the bathroom door where Harry was brushing his teeth. “Have you seen Scabbers?”

Harry emitted a garbled groan and spat out the toothpaste, rinsed his brush and mouth, shoved his toothbrush back into the storage of his staff, wiped his hands on his pajamas then found the doorknob. He stuck his head out of the door and hooked his first two fingers in front of his eyes (the sign for blind) expecting a guffaw or at least a groan from Ron, but apparently, the gesture was lost. From the sound of it, Ron was rummaging through the debris under his bed and no longer looking in Harry’s direction.

“Er, Ron?” Harry said, dragging his fingers through his wet hair and stepping tentatively forward through the minefield of discarded clothes and detritus that Ron kept forgetting to tidy up no matter how many times Harry stumbled. 

What had started as a euphoric reunion and gleeful extended sleepover last week was now morphing into a steady stream of bickering and resentments. Harry’s gut tightened as he thought about it. He hated that he was already feeling resentful toward Ron and he’d just woken up. He bit back his chuntering as he used his staff to push something soft out of his way and shuffled forward. He had just been in the loo for a few minutes and already there were added items in his path. He toyed with the idea of casting a vanishing spell. 

“Harry, help me look for Scabbers! I can’t find him anywhere.”

“Have you tried summoning him?” Harry sighed. 

“Yes, but nothing,” Ron said with such heartache that Harry felt some of his irritation slough off. 

Harry had finally made it to his bed and was feeling along the sheets until he found his pillow where he’d left Nio snoozing. He gently traced Nio’s scales until he found his head, then gently tickled him under his jaw. 

“ Nio,” Harry whispered in Parseltongue, conscious of how much the language unnerved Ron… another thorn. “ Nio, have you seen Scabbers? Ron can’t find him.”

The snake nuzzled Harry’s fingers and emitted a grumbling hiss, “the stench of the rat has been long absent, thankfully.” 

“For how long?” Harry asked, stretching out on the bed. 

“Nearly since we arrived. He doesn’t smell like a rat. Something is off about that creature. And he doesn’t like me or you. I’m glad he’s gone.”

“Ron misses him,” Harry said, to which Nio harrumphed and started to coil around Harry’s neck.

Ron was now pulling things out from under Harry’s bed. Harry wondered how there could be things under his bed when he kept all of his belongings in his staff and the bed had just been added last week when Harry arrived at the Burrow. 

“Where does all this stuff come from Ron?” Harry asked. 

“Huh?” Ron asked as he dragged what sounded like a tin full of marbles out from under the bed. 

“All these bits and bobs on the floor? How is it possible to have this much stuff? I don’t think Dudley even has such a cluttered room.”

“I thought your Aunt was a neat freak and made you clean his room.”

“Ha, yeah. But don’t let her hear you call her a freak. That’s what we are,” Harry said quietly.

“Where could he be hiding? This isn’t like him,” Ron moaned. 

“ Nio says that he’s been gone a while.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” 

“I just asked him,” Harry said, shifting onto his back carefully so that he didn’t squash Nio . 

“Drat,” Ron said absently. “Why would he leave?” His muffled voice made it sound like he was halfway under Harry’s bed. 

Harry decided against sharing Nio’s thoughts about the rat with Ron and rolled to his side and cast around for his glasses before sitting up and shoving them on his face. He pushed the rubbish that Ron had pulled out from under the bed away with his feet before standing up and carefully making his way to the door using both the directions from Nio and his staff to navigate the minefield. He winced, though, when he stepped on something small and sharp—biting back an angry outburst. He decided that half his irritation with Ron was hunger and tried to let it go as he followed the aroma of a full English breakfast to the kitchen. 

The creaking and groaning staircase suddenly started shaking as the thunderous footfalls above him alerted him to the passage of the twins chasing each other down the stairs. Nio hissed in alarm as Harry flattened himself against the portrait covered wall (much to the dismay of the occupants) to make way for them. 

“Hiya, Harry!” they called in unison as they roared passed. 

Harry waited a moment, feeling the staircase jerk and sway as the twins frog-hopped over the bannister onto the landing on the second floor and then continued down the stairs. When he emerged into the warm kitchen, the heavenly scents of bangers, scones, and fresh tea enveloped him, providing a buffer to the tongue-lashing Fred and George were receiving from Mrs. Weasley for nearly knocking into Ginny as she was taking scones out of the oven.

“Please accept our apologies, Ginny,” they said contritely, and it sounded as if they had snatched scones off the biscuit sheet as they passed from Ginny’s protesting noises. 

“Harry!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed when she saw him, her footsteps rapidly approaching him. “Happy Birthday, dear! I can’t believe that we get to celebrate your birthday with you!”

Harry felt his face warming as she pulled him into a tight embrace. There was a chorus of birthday wishes from all the Weasley’s in the kitchen and someone drummed a beat on a cast-iron pan from the fireplace.

“Oh George, you’ll knock out the bangers.”

“What’s the point of bangers if you can’t bang ‘em, Mum?” George protested.

“We’ve got a big breakfast planned. Come, dear. There’s a spot for you here.” She took his arm and pulled him toward the table. Harry couldn’t bring himself to protest, even as his staff struck the bench. She squeezed his arms and then pulled a clattering teacup in his direction, filling it with tea. He stepped over the bench and sat down, ghosting his fingers over the worn wood of the table until they found the saucer, then pulled it closer. Mrs. Weasley kissed him on the top of his head. Then she was pushing the pitcher of milk toward him. His fingers slipped on the condensation that covered the lower half of the pitcher as he tried to lift it.

“Oh, let me get that for you, Harry!” Mrs. Weasley started to pull the pitcher out of his hands, but Harry held onto it. 

“I can get it, thanks,” he said, trying not to let the exasperation leak into his voice. 

“Right,” she said, taking a step back. “You’ve got it.” 

He felt relieved that she was beginning to understand that even though he might look like he needed help, that it was better if he figured it out himself. 

She turned and immediately gave clipped instructions to Fred to scoop the eggs out of the skillet after she hollered to George to stop nibbling on the bangers before he sat at the table. 

Percy stumbled into the kitchen in the meantime and was struggling with Errol to let go of the Daily Prophet. 

“Perc, I need your help with the mushrooms,” Mrs. Weasley said as china clattered in her arms. “They are going to burn. Can you scoop them out?”

Harry stood up halfway, starting to pull his leg over the bench, wanting to help with the breakfast, but someone pushed him back onto the bench. 

“We’ve got it,” George whispered near his ear, his breath salty with sausage. “She’ll have kittens if you get near the skillet.”

Harry nearly choked at the thought. Just what this house needed… kittens underfoot.

The Burrow creaked and swayed as Ron’s footsteps crescendoed from the stairway above until they burst into the kitchen, preceded by his announcement that Scabbers was nowhere to be found.  

“Oh, pup, I’m so sorry,” his mum said, and his voice became muffled as she pulled him into a hug. “I’m sure he’ll show up… he always has.” 

“Thanks, mum,” Ron snuffled and then the long table was rocking as he sat down at it and pulled food toward his plate to load it up. 

“Ron! Manners! Not everyone is seated yet. Can you put out the lemon curd and jam for the scones, please?” 

Harry felt a knot forming in his stomach as the kitchen bustled around him and he sat alone at the table. He sipped at his tea and willed the uneasiness in his belly to settle. He was grateful when the garden door clattered open and the family erupted into gleeful clamouring of surprise and joy.

“Bill! You’re back!” 

“Do you have news?”

“Did you catch Black?”

“Where’s Dad?”

“Did you bring our powdered scarab beetles?”

“Oi! Give a bloke a break!” Bill’s voice was deeper and rougher than Charlie’s and still distinctively Weasley-ish. 

Dishes had been hastily set upon the table and the bench Harry was pivoting on started to tilt as Weasleys jumped off it. Harry steadied himself as Nio tightened on his neck and hissed in protest. 

Harry stood up and yelped when someone swung their arm around his shoulders, pulling him into the fray. Harry guessed it was Fred or George by their height, but he wasn’t exactly sure. 

“Harry, don’t hang back; you’ve got to join in the rumpus!” George called above the tumult, right in Harry’s ear. Harry winced and tried to pull away, and Nio butted his nose against the side of George’s face while muttering indignantly about the exuberant adelphi.

Ginny, Percy, Ron, George, and Fred started hounding Bill with questions again and Mrs. Weasley started pushing everyone toward the table, expressing her fears that the food was getting cold. 

Someone took hold of Harry’s shoulders and directed him toward a place at the table. Another hand reached out and guided his outstretched hand to the bench. Harry slid into his spot as the bench rocked as everyone sat down and started piling food on their plates. Ginny was on Harry’s right and she quietly told Harry of the dishes as they were passed along and helped him find the serving spoons so that he could load up his plate. She didn’t make a fuss about it, either, and that made it easier for Harry to accept her help.

“So, did you find Black?” Percy asked in a lull of the conversation. 

“No, but we think we’re on his trail. That’s actually why I’m here. We’re pretty certain he’s moving west toward the Burrow. We can’t be certain that he knows where Harry is, but the credible sightings are suggesting that he’s moving this direction,” Bill informed the family grimly. 

They were silent for a moment.

“But how? How could he find Harry here?” 

“It’s a logical assumption,” Bill said. “It’s widely known that Harry and Ron are mates. It has even been printed in the Daily Prophet, not to mention that Black must be receiving help from Deatheater families and some of them are bound to have Hogwarts students who would be eager to tell him of Harry’s connection to our family. Some of them are directly related to the Black family… the Malfoys, for instance.”

“The Malfoys were cleared of charges,” Percy spoke up.

“Lucius Malfoy was, but there are others in the family who may still have connections.”

“I thought all of the Black family was imprisoned or dead,” Ginny said. 

“Narsissa, Lucius’s wife, is Sirius Black’s cousin,” Mrs. Weasley said. 

“And don’t forget,” Percy added, “we’re related to the Blacks and the Malfoys through the Weasleys and the Pruitts."

"Ugh! Percy! You say it like it's a fine thing to be related to that lot!" Fred protested and the bench rocked as some shoving occured.

"Hush, now. No one gets to choose their family… well, except you, Harry," Mrs. Weasley's voice was directed toward him. "You are part of our family now."

Ron thumped him on the back in agreement and Harry tucked his chin and blinked, his eyes suddenly stinging.

“Well, Dad’s meeting with Bones right now.”

Harry lifted his head and pointed his nose in Bill’s direction, “Bones?” 

“Amelia Bones. Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

“Err?” 

“The Aurors?” Ron nudged Harry in the ribs. 

“Oh,” Harry said, thinking about all the pulling and bumbling that surrounded the arrest of Aminah’s father. “That lot.”

“Oi, Harry. Give them a break. They were trying to protect you,” Percy muttered from across the table.

Harry hunched his shoulders and remembered Aminah’s sobs as her father was hauled off. “I wasn’t the one who needed protecting, was I?”

“Oh, Harry. I’m sure they’ll get it all sorted out. Just a case of mistaken identity, isn’t it?” Mrs. Weasley said from her place at the head of the table. 

Ginny squeezed Harry’s hand. 

“I think Dad’ll bring Auror Bones here soon. He asked if you could keep a couple plates warm for them,” Bill said. 

“Bill! Why didn’t you tell me earlier?! We could have all waited,” Mrs. Weasley huffed, pushing away from the table and starting to clatter plates. 

“Oi! I was eating that!” Fred protested.

“Mum, Dad said not to wait,” Bill said. 

Mrs. Weasley continued to bustle around the kitchen filling plates, but it sounded like Fred got to finish his breakfast. 

Harry pushed his fork across his plate, toward a bit of scone held in his other hand to help scoop up the bits of egg but couldn’t bring himself to eat more as he thought about meeting with yet another Ministry official. His fingers itched to summon his invisibility cloak out of his staff and slip away. 

He let a lump of resentment settle in his stomach… Why couldn’t I just have this day?  

Nio squeezed his neck and coiled toward his ear, whispering, “Why have the doldrums settled on you?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Harry whispered shortly, aware of how Ron stiffened next to him as he hissed his response.

Nio expressed his annoyance by slipping under Harry’s collar and wiggling against his belly. Harry squirmed until the snake was still, trying not to laugh at the tickling movements. 

“What is it,” Ginny asked. 

“Nothing,” Harry whispered back. “Just that Nio is upset about being left out of the conversation.”

As the family finished, they started getting up and taking the dishes to the sink.

“Harry, got your broom?” Ron leaned against him. 

Harry nodded, a smile lifting the edges of his mouth. 

“After the kitchen is tidied, Ron!” 

“But, mum! It’s his birthday!” 

“No worries, mate. I don’t mind doing dishes if we can use magic!” Harry said. 

“No underage magic during the Hols!” Mrs. Weasley reminded them, to resounding groans. 

“Especially with the DMLE head coming over!” Percy added. 

“Ugh.”  

“Mum, remember it doesn’t count for Harry if he’s using his staff,” Ron continued to protest. 

Harry made his way to the sink by following the sound of the running water. He was carefully balancing his plate, tea cup, and silverware in one hand while sweeping the staff in front of him with his other hand. He heard Ginny gasp slightly when he stumbled over something in his path… a bit of cloth he guessed from the squishiness… but he was able to steady the teetering saucer. No one else seemed to have noticed. He lifted his chin and sent a small smile in her direction to let her know that he was okay.

Harry placed his stack of dishes on the edge of the counter and pushed them forward, listening as other dishes were scooted along the counter. He collapsed and flicked his staff away in a quick motion, then started to ghost his hands over the dishes waiting to be washed, getting a sense for what was there and thinking about the order he’d tackle them. Aunt Petunia was so particular about washing china and glasses before skillets and saucepans. He shook his head to get rid of her voice ringing in his ears. 

Harry found the dishrag hanging over the side of the sink and plunged it into the waiting tub of hot water, as the suds tickled his forearms. 

“And I don’t know,” Mrs. Weasley muttered as she scraped out a pot.  “I don’t think it’s a good idea… what with Sirius Black getting closer… what if he were to see you flying about?”

“Mum, I’ll go out with them,” Bill said. “I heard Harry’s quite a flyer and since the last time I went flying with him he was invisible, it’ll be nice to actually see what he can do on a broom.”

“Harry! What are you doing?” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed from behind him. 

Harry jumped and almost dropped the glass he was washing. 

“The dishes?” he answered. 

“No, dear. You’re a guest,” she said, trying to pull him back from the sink.

“I thought you said I was part of the family,” Harry said without thinking. “If I’m family, I’ll do my part.”

“Oh, Harry. What have we done to deserve you?” Mrs. Weasley hiccuped and squeezed him, then patted his shoulder as he rinsed the glass he’d been holding. 

She turned away and sighed. “Oh, all right, Bill. But you all keep your eyes peeled for anything suspicious… and come right inside if you see any big dogs!”

oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo

Harry clung to his broom as he corkscrewed through the air, nearly suffocating as Nio hissed in fury and tightened his hold on Harry’s neck. As the vibrations from his broom telegraphed the quickly approaching earth through his whole body, Harry pulled up and then hopped off, with only a bit of a lurching as he found his footing on the rain-soaked ground. 

Ron and Bill’s whoops of delight were nearly drowned out by Hermione’s shouting outrage. She had arrived shortly after they had flown out to the orchard. 

“Harry! Don’t. Do. That. Again! You frightened me!” she demanded as she landed near him, the bells on her broom jingling impishly in stark contrast to her indignant tones. 

Harry huffed into his hands to warm them and then eased a finger under Nio’s coils to encourage the snake to let go and slide to his belly. “Hermione—leave him be! He was brilliant,” Ron said, dismounting near them and slapping Harry on the back. 

“Ron! Did you see how it jars Harry everytime you touch him without alerting him first?” Hermione hissed. 

“Hey, I’m here, you know!” Harry said, as his elation from his spiralling descent wore off. Though the snake was getting warmer at his belly button, Nio hadn’t let up on his hissing tirade. 

Harry tried to swallow his irritation as the other flyers landed and gathered around them. 

“Let’s head back to the house—Dad’s just arrived with Auror Bones. They’ll want to talk with Harry,” Bill said, ignoring the squabbling. “Also, it’s bloody cold with that wind. Let’s put some tea on to warm up.”

Harry swung his leg over his broom and flew back to the kitchen door. It gave him a bit of time to regulate his annoyance and a moment of peace as Ron and Hermione continued to take the mickey out of each other. Also, it had started drizzling again. 

Harry stepped off his broom right by the door and must have crushed some of the mint as the aroma rose around him. The door banged open. 

“Oh, I was just going to send a Patronus to fetch you. Did you see the Auror arr… er. Silly me,” Mrs. Weasley blustered. “Oh, it’s raining again. Are the others coming in, too?”

“Yep, right behind me, I think,” Harry said as he shook out his staff, stashed his broom, and found the stairs. 

“I’ve put the kettle on… we’ll get you a cup of tea straight away,” Mrs. Weasley fussed as he walked into the kitchen. She cast a drying spell on him and Nio sighed in relief from inside his shirt. 

“Oh, thanks! That’s better,” Harry said, patting his torso with his free hand. 

“Auror Bones is in the drawing room with Arthur,” Mrs. Weasley directed Harry toward the doorway from behind, both hands on his shoulders. 

Harry paused, took a deep breath and then cast the navigation charm. 

“I’ve got it, Mrs. Weasley,” he said quietly.

“Don’t you worry, Harry. Arthur and I have already told Amelia that you won’t be sent back to the Dursleys or sent to the Ministry,” she assured, somehow understanding his hesitancy. 

“Thanks,” he muttered and swept his staff in front of him until he could hear the conversation in the drawing room grow louder. Mr. Weasley and Auror Bones were having a rather serious talk and they stopped as soon as they saw Harry enter the room, but he heard some of it. They had been talking about the wards on the Burrow from what he could gather. 

“Er, hello?” Harry said, feeling their eyes on him.

“Harry, thanks for coming in. This is Auror Amelia Bones from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She’s been wanting to meet you,” Mr. Weasley said as he got up and strode over to Harry, pulling him farther into the room by looping his arm over Harry’s shoulders. 

Harry stuck out his hand and waited while Auror Bones stood up and then grasped it in a firm handshake that revealed strong, long, bony fingers. “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last. My niece, Susan, speaks highly of you.” Her voice was efficient and yet friendly. He wasn’t sure how she managed it. 

Harry was wracking his brain trying to place Susan and his expression must have conveyed his confusion. 

“Susan Bones. She’ll be a third-year, same as you. In Hufflepuff,” Auror Bones provided. 

“Oh, right. Yes. Susan Bones,” Harry said, relieved, finally remembering a girl with a long plait of dark auburn hair, a sprinkle of freckles, and a friendly smile. 

“Harry, there’s a seat just to your left,” Mr. Weasley instructed. Harry found the chair, feeling his face heat up as both adults seemed to just stand there watching him poke around until he got himself situated. After a moment they seemed to realize what they were doing and quickly sat back down themselves, fishing around for something to talk about. 

“Harry, I understand you’ve been learning magical ways to get around since your encounter with the Basilisk earlier this summer,” Auror Bones finally said. 

“Er, yes,” Harry agreed, and then added, “At the Perenelle Flamel Adaptation Center.”

“Right. Excellent facility. I hope they are able to open their doors again soon. I’ve heard from quite a few families who are waiting for services while they put things to rights.” 

“Has Mr. Khan been released yet?” Harry asked, sitting up a bit straighter, his eyebrows furrowed in the Auror’s direction.

“Ah. Well, we’re working on that. And in fact, that is one reason why I’m here today. I’m hoping that you’ll be able to provide your memories from your encounter with Mr. Khan in the tunnels under the Center.”

“Yes, of course. Though, the encounter was more with Bill McCarthy,” Harry explained, feeling a bit self-righteous on Mr. Khan’s behalf. 

“But what about Sirius Black,” Bill asked before he was all the way in the room.

“Oh, hello, Bill. Your dad and I have been working on restructuring the wards around the Burrow. We’re also adding a highly guarded Egress to the premises so that you can escape quickly to the ministry if needed.”

Harry shuddered at the mention of an Egress directly to the Ministry and imagined Mr. Croaker with his creepy voice, sneaking into the Burrow while they all slept. 

“Listen, we don’t want to alarm you, Harry,” Mr. Weasley said, clearly misunderstanding Harry’s reaction. “But, we feel that rather than move you more directly to a new location, it would be better if you stayed here and we use the opportunity to trap Black as he tries to get closer.” 

“You’re using him as bait?” Ginny shrieked in indignation, and there was a commotion as it sounded like a pile of people fell into the room. 

“Well!” Auror Bones exclaimed. “It looks like we need to work on the warding of the interior rooms as well!”

Chapter Text

After the Weasley children, plus Hermione had been herded out (against their howling protests) and the room warded against further intrusions, an unnatural quiet settled around Harry. He could only hear his trousers moving against the rough velvet of the sofa but nothing else. It was as if he had been enclosed in a bubble.

"Hello? Bill? Mr. Weasley?" Harry asked, panic fluttering his heart. He started to rise and put his hands out in front of him trying to find something, anything tangible. His hands passed through empty air and he flicked out his wand, casting a shield charm as he took a defensive stance.

"Where did everyone go?" he asked, hating the tremble in his voice. “ Nio , what’s going on?” 

The snake didn’t answer or even stir at his belly and Harry sighed as he realized that Nio was sleeping through this whole encounter.

His ears popped and he could hear other people in the room again, as well as the familiar creaks and groans of the Burrow around him.

“Oh, no, Harry. I’m so sorry. You can put your wand away. We’re just… er. We don’t want to frighten you… and yet we know that you’re also prone to take matters into your own hands. We’ve been debating about how much to tell you. You are, after all, just a child.” Mr. Weasley explained. 

Harry snorted even as his shoulders sagged. He didn’t feel like a child. When had he ever been able to be just a child?

"I get it, Harry," Bill said, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder, then taking it away quickly when Harry flinched. "You've always had to rely on yourself. You haven’t had adults looking out for you. But things are going to be different now, okay? We’re going to make sure that you’re safe.”

“How?” Harry asked, his voice flat.

“Well, first off, you’ve got to trust us,” Auror Bones stated. 

“Us? Who is ‘us’ exactly?”

“Harry, we understand your skepticism. Auror Bones has already launched an investigation into what happened underneath the Center. She’s promised to get to the bottom of it,” Mr. Weasley assured.

“Well, I trust you…er, the Weasleys, I mean. But honestly, I don’t know if I can ever trust the ministry again… after what happened to Aminah’s dad… even if you do get to the bottom of it,” Harry turned a bit so that his nose was pointing in Auror Bones’ direction.

“That’s fair. If you can trust the Weasleys, and I trust the Weasleys and they, in turn trust me, then maybe we can start there… we’re all just doing the best we can given the circumstances. There is a lot that we don’t know.”

For some reason, this made Harry let out the breath he’d been holding since she’d started talking. He drew in a deep breath and shook out his shoulders. 

“So, Harry? You’ll work with the Weasleys, then?”

“Yes, I will.”

“And you’ll tell them if something feels off?”

“All right. Yes, I will.”

“All right, let’s get to work warding your house and setting up that Egress…” 

As Bill, Mr. Weasley, and Auror Bones launched into the logistics of warding the house and creating the Egress using a lot of jargon that Harry didn’t understand, he sank into the sofa, his hand cradling the sleeping snake in his shirt, tuning them out and trying to sort out what all of this would mean for him. 

At a lull in the conversation… it sounded like Mr. Weasley pulling a heavy trunk from a corner of the room… Harry sat up and asked, “So, does this mean that I’ll be able to take more courses at the Center during the summer? By traveling through the Egress?”

“Er, yes, I suppose it does. Would you like that?”

“Er, yeah.” He didn’t want to sound like Hermione, but the thought of returning to Hogwarts with his scant knowledge of Braille… he didn’t even know how maths worked with Braille!

“We’ll make sure that there’s a connection to the Center as soon as we’re able to secure both locations,” Auror Bones promised. 

Harry stood up and shook his staff from his holster to navigate to where their voices were coming from in the room. 

The room was full of overstuffed chairs and shin-stabbing tables so the going was slow and the three of them had turned back to opening the trunk. There was a rattling of keys and scraping of metal as the keys were inserted into the lock.

Harry felt a bit put out, though he tried to soften his irritation as he asked, “so are you going to tell me anything else? What were you discussing before that you didn’t want me to hear?”

“Oh, right. Sorry, Harry,” Bill said, turning toward him and guiding him to a spot next to the trunk with a light touch on Harry’s wrist. “We were just deciding how much to tell you about what we know about Black and his progress this way.”

“Well, what do you know?”

“We know that he’s being reckless and that’s why we’ve been able to track him more easily these last couple of days… whereas before, we were having a really hard time getting any information on him.”

Harry cocked his head toward the door as he heard Mrs. Weasley’s boots echoing in the hallway toward them. She bustled in with a rattling tray of china apparently floating behind her, announcing brightly, “tea is served!” as it settled on the low table behind Harry. 

“So, you’re looking for our rune stones? The ones you need are in the seventh level of the trunk, Arthur… you need to turn the key one more time.”

Harry heard the springs of the couch give way as she sat down and then muttered a charm that made the china start clinking as it moved around. He started when something brushed his hand and then jumped back as hot liquid soaked through the fabric near his ankle accompanied by the sound of breaking glass as the cup and saucer hit the floor. 

“Oh, Harry! Forgive me, I should have warned you!” Mrs. Weasley gasped. 

She muttered a few charms and his trouser leg warmed up, drying as the china knitted itself back together with a tinkling dissonance and grinding. 

“Here, dear. A cup of tea.”

Harry reached toward her and found the saucer. His fingers traced the smooth china, unable to find any evidence of the repair. He mused if it was now rainbow-hued.

“Thanks, Mrs. Weasley,” he said, feeling the heat in his cheeks cool as his embarrassment for knocking over the teacup dissipated. He took a sip and sighed as the hot sweetness and sharp tang flowed over his tongue. Mrs. Weasley did make a good cup of tea.

Harry turned his face in the direction where he thought Bill was and asked, “So, do you know why he’s being reckless?” 

Mrs. Weasley made a questioning hum and Harry realized that Bill wasn’t where he thought he was. 

“Bill?” he asked, projecting a bit louder. 

“What’s that?” Bill asked from the other side of the room. His voice came from up high, near the ceiling. 

“Oh, Bill, is that really necessary?” Mrs. Weasley grumbled.

There was a soft thud that rumbled through the floorboards. 

“What did you ask, Harry? Here you go, Pops.” Bill was back near the trunk handing something to Mr. Weasley. 

“I was asking about this Sirius Black bloke… why do you think he’s being reckless now?” Harry ran his hand over the sleeping lump of Nio wishing the snake would wake up so that he could tell Harry what was going on. 

Why had Bill been flying around the room? What did he give Mr. Weasley? Why didn’t Mrs. Weasley approve? What was the little noise that was coming from the spot where he imagined Auror Bones was standing? It sounded like a mouse worrying at a nut husk. Could it be Scabbers? 

Harry wanted to shake out his staff and ask it to take him to Scabbers… but he was still holding his teacup and wasn’t sure if there was room on the tea table to set it down. He turned toward Mrs. Weasley and cleared his throat. 

“Er, Mrs. Weasley, is there a place where I can set down my teacup?” he asked, holding it out a bit. 

“Of course, dear. I’ll put it right over here.” She took it from him and he heard it settle on a low table. “But what is it you need?”

“I just thought of something,” he said as he shook out his staff and muttered “Navigant Scabbers.” But instead of directing him, the staff informed him that it couldn’t perform the task as the requested object was outside of the scope of the staff. 

Then he had an idea… “Navigant Sirius Black,” he said in a louder voice and the conversations around him hushed. He took his aftí out of his ear and pushed it into the storage of his staff so that everyone could hear what his staff was telling him, quickly changing the navigation from vibrations to words with a tap of his fingers. 

“Turn left and take two steps, now turn right…” the lyrical voice rang out in the room. 

“Oh, my! Harry, what are you doing?” Mrs. Weasley said, alarm making her voice squeak.

“Black’s close enough to navigate to!” Harry said, through gritted teeth, his heart rate rising rapidly as he thought about the wards on the Burrow… they hadn’t fortified them yet.

“What’s the range on your staff, Harry?” Bill asked, hurtling himself to Harry’s side and nearly bowling him over. 

“No idea,” Harry answered. “I think Godric said that it was a few city streets, but I’m not sure.”

“That’s too close,” Mrs. Weasley said, rising in alarm.

“Get everyone down here at once!,” Mr. Weasley shouted. 

Bill turned away from him and there was a pop of apparition and he just felt the empty space where Bill had been. 

“How is it that you have Sirius Black in your navigation’s memory,” Auror Bones questioned as she drew closer to Harry. 

“I added him… from the albums I found in my parent’s vault,” Harry said. 

“How did you…?” Mrs. Weasely started to ask and then stopped herself mid-sentence. “Nevermind, if he’s close enough for you to walk to him, then he’s too close and we need to get you to safety. All of us.”

“Yes, that’s what we need to do. Bill, tell them to be ready to listen and to be quiet. We’ve got to do this quickly,” Mr. Weasely was using his disembodied voice to talk to Bill… it sounded in the room and also echoed above them in the rooms above the sitting room. 

Auror Bones was also talking to someone else who wasn’t in the room… presumably sending a message to the Ministry. 

“The Auror department is on its way… we need to evacuate the premises immediately. I think floo will be the most secure method. Let’s go to your fireplace,” Madam Bones announced. 

Harry waited a moment to let the others go through the door before him, but Mrs. Weasley hung back, managing the tea tray by the sound of it.

As he whispered to his staff to navigate to the door, she sighed behind him. “Oh, Harry. Your birthday cake. It’s not done yet. I wanted to have a proper celebration for you.” 

“You’re making me a cake?” Harry asked, his voice breaking as he turned his head in her direction.

“Oh, sweetie. Of course!” She sounded teary as she pulled him into a hug. “I’ll put a suspension charm on it and we’ll do it just as soon as we get this mess sorted out.”

Harry inhaled her comforting scent—a mixture of flour, spices, and soap as she released him and blinked away the moisture in his eyes. He could hear a commotion in the kitchen as the Weasley clan plus Hermione clamoured to know more. Harry wondered if the wards had been set or if they had abandoned that effort in the hast to get everyone out of the Burrow. 

He swung his staff and found the doorway, then moved into the hall where the portraits were frantically calling to each other about the approaching threat—throwing advice and questions at Mrs. Weasley as she followed Harry out of the room. She in turn was giving curt orders to them about how best to protect the Burrow and giving messages to deliver to other locations. 

Her tone was totally altered from moments before and she sounded like a military commander instead of her effusive motherly self. It made him draw in his breath as he remembered that she’d been through this before. This wasn’t her first war. Dread clenched his gut as he realized that he had brought the threat to their doorstep and he wanted desperately to lure it away and the same time that he wanted to be surrounded by all the warmth and protection that the exuberant family offered… that they were so willing to extend to him… as if he was one of them. 

“Harry!” Hermione wailed in his ear as she launched her body at him, colliding with him. He flung his arms out, trying to find something to hold onto so that they didn’t topple over and whacked someone in the head (Ginny, he thought by the yelp). Someone pushed him back upright from behind as Harry tried to apologize to Ginny and hang onto Hermione. 

“Sorry, Harry! I’ve just been so worri…” her words were drowned out by the others as they realized that he was in the room.

He felt buffeted from all sides as everyone was trying to get his attention and several hands were on him, pushing and pulling him through the mass of bodies toward the heat of the enormous fireplace.  

“Hush!” Auror Bone’s voice cut through the din, effectively silencing them… or maybe she’d cast a spell?

“Harry, we’ve secured a safe floo passage for you. Percy will go through first, I’ll follow.”

“What about the rest?” Harry asked, stepping back even as someone grabbed his shoulder to move him toward the floo.

“We’re all evacuating except for Bill and Arthur, who will await reinforcements from the Ministry as they finish setting the wards,” Auror Bones hurriedly explained while grabbing Harry’s wrist and thrusting it into powder—floo powder—his mind supplied. He scooped up a handful, his fingernails scraping against the tin bottom of the container. There wasn’t much left. 

“Wait, is there enough for everyone to evacuate?” Harry said, holding up his powdery hand.

“Yes, yes. The Aurors who are coming through are bringing more,” Arthur explained impatiently. “You’ve got to go, Harry. We’ll be all right. We promise.”

“Wait a moment… Harry, do you still have the albums in your staff?” Hermione called above the crowd from the back of the room.

“Huh?” he asked, turning toward her voice.

“The albums… with Sirius Black in them!” Hermione shouted, even as Harry was being pulled closer to the fire. He heard Percy calling out the name of the Ministry address and the roar of the floo as it took him through. 

“Yes?” He lifted up his staff, hoping she’d see it. 

“Auror Bones, shouldn’t everyone use the spell that Harry used to recognize Black with his staff… won’t it also work with our wands?”

“Ah, yes,” Auror Bones relaxed her grip on Harry’s wrist and he awkwardly summoned the album from his staff, trying not to spill the floo powder in his hand. Someone took ahold of his staff as the leathery cover of the album snapped into his hand. It felt more weighty than he remembered it, maybe because he was only able to hold it with one hand. Someone snatched it from him, then his staff knocked against his knuckles. Just the brief moment without his staff made him feel adrift.    

He heard the pages rustling as they flipped through the album. Harry was pressed from all sides as everyone crowded around, trying to get a glimpse of the escaped criminal. 

Harry remembered the boisterous figure of the boy as he jumped through the frame of the pictures that Harry had converted to moving miniature sculptures… it seemed like an eon ago that he’d sat with Gemma at the Center examining the albums he found in his parent’s vault. The warmth and affection the boy displayed for Harry’s father and his grandparents, even their little dog, was clashing with the monster the Ministry insisted was after him. 

What could do that to a person? Could Ron or Hermione change like that? Could he? he wondered.    

“Come on, Harry. You need to go,” Mr. Weasley urged as Auror Bones was instructing the group on how to use the memory and navigation charms. 

Mr. Weasley put his arm around Harry’s shoulders and pulled him toward the floo again. 

“The destination is ‘Ministry of Magic, Department of Mysteries” Mr. Weasley said close to his ear. 

Harry reared back. “I’m not going there.”

“Harry, it has the best protections within the Ministry itself,” Mr. Weasley’s voice rose in pitch and intensity. “You won’t have to stay there long… just until we catch Black.”

“I can’t. They want to do experiments on me. I met this Croacher bloke! He’s creepy! Why can’t I just go back to the stone circle? I was safe there. Or the Center? Or just stay here! I won’t go there. I won’t!” It was all Harry could do to not stomp his foot like a petulant child. 

“We can’t secure the Burrow… and it puts us all in danger. You’ve got to understand that,” Mr. Weasley consoled. 

“I’m not flooing to the Department of Mysteries. I’ll just go back to my stone circle… on my broom. No one could find me when I wore my invisibility cloak… not even Black. I was safe there!” Harry was struggling against Mr. Weasley who was gripping him hard around the shoulders and still trying to move him toward the floo. 

Harry felt Nio move against his belly and was relieved that the snake was finally waking up. Harry stuck his hand under his shirt so that Nio could coil around his wrist. 

“What’s going on, Big Friend?” the snake asked. 

“Too much to explain right now. I’ll tell you later.”

Mr. Weasley had let go of him in surprise at the snake's appearance and Harry used the moment to cast his shield charm, pushing everyone away from him. He breathed in deeply, glad for the muffling effect of the shield as well as the space from all the bodies crowding him. He pulled his cloak out of his staff and started fastening the ties while whispering to Nio about the recent events. 

Someone started hammering on the shield, the pounding reverberated through his staff. 

“Knock it off, would you?” Harry seethed. He felt sick to his stomach. This was not how he imagined things going at the Burrow… on his birthday, no less. How was it possible that everything was worse than when he was at the Dursleys? 

The room around him quieted, but not magically. The quiet unnerving for how complete it was. Then the floo roared and Harry could hear Percy’s distinctive twang ring out even over the floo’s noise, “What’s going on? What’s that rainbow bubble? Where’s Harry? Did he misfloo aga–?”

Someone shushed him and his questions were cut off. 

“Harry, be still and remove your shield,” Mr. Weasley muttered to him quietly. “Stay under the cloak. Don’t talk.”

Chapter Text

Harry ended the shield charm with the slightest whisper, shrunk his staff, fitting it back into his holster with a flick of his wrist, and pulled his invisibility cloak tight. The Weasleys had closed in around him and someone clumsily found his shoulder, pushing him down into a crouching position. He shifted so that his knees weren’t pressing Nio into his belly and listened hard, trying to figure out what was happening. The only noises were the slight shifting and rustling around him, the floor creaking as weight shifted, and the whisper of shallow breaths. Acrid fear permeated the air and the temperature dropped suddenly as if a door had been opened to Antartica. 

Nio shivered against Harry’s belly, twisting into a tighter ball, pressing deeper against him. He seemed to sense that something was dangerously wrong.

The room around Harry grew darker, there was no longer the haze of light streaming in from the bank of windows along the kitchen wall. The knot of people around him tightened, and hands were on his back and head, as if reassuring themselves that he was hidden and still there. 

He struggled to stand up and they pushed him down. The floor was now radiating a cold… seeping in through his trainers even under the invisibility cloak, it was like the chill of the Center when it had been subjected to the Null zone. Harry furrowed his brows, trying to suss out the clues that would tell him what was going on. 

He felt people shift around him as if they were watching something move across the windows to the back door.

The back door banged open and a rattling, rasping noise grew closer. Shouts of encantations burst from the knot of people around him as they moved—expanding and contracting. 

He started when he heard Fred and George summoning chocolate frogs and heard the foil wrappers snapping into their hands, but was quickly distracted as explosions rocked the floor and plaster fell from the ceiling. China shattered around him. Harry felt as if he was being sucked into a vacuum; the world around him was blurring in a haze of ringing noises and smoke. He was slipping away, the noises dimming as a scream skewered him. He crumpled on the floor, winching as a sharp shard of pottery cut into his knee. He was struggling to remain conscious. 

Something small jumped on his hand and then launched up, hittting him lightly on the mouth. He licked his lips—chocolate—and then tried to grab it, finding bits of plaster and broken crockery instead. The taste of chocolate on his lips, though, sent a jolt through him and he was able to sit up.

Someone slumped against him, jolting him further out of the fog. He shook his head to dispel the miasma that had been engulfing him. Instinctively he’d put his arms out to catch them, and now, realized it was Ginny from her slight build and long hair. 

“Ginny?” he whispered, shaking her gently. Her head lolled onto his shoulder. He fell on the floor and gathered her into his arms, pulling her under the invisibility cloak as it seemed as though it was a bit warmer under it than in the kitchen which now was colder than an icebox. 

He scooted along the floor, dragging Ginny with him, trying to pull her out of the way of everyone casting spells around them. Occasionally bright lights flashed across his field of vision… piercing the darkness and making him wince. 

“Harry?” Ron asked, his voice cracking. “Where are you?”

“Right here,” Harry said, and stuck his foot out from under the cloak. Someone tripped over it and he grimaced… both from the pain and resounding crash that followed. “Sorry!”

“Can you help me get Ginny out of the way?” he asked. 

“What happened to Ginny?” Hermione asked from his other side and she groped around, trying to find a hold. 

“That’s me. Ginny’s over here,” Harry tried to shrug Hermione’s hand in the right direction as he struggled to stand up. 

Ron’s hands explored across Harry’s back and then found Ginny’s other arm and the three of them pulled her to a corner in the kitchen, near the fireplace and out of the way from the spellcasters. 

“What’s going on?” Harry asked, his breath hitching. 

“Dementors!” Ron said, and the fear in his voice infectious.

“What?”

“A whole bunch of Dementors came into the garden and then tried to get in the house. Mom, Dad, Bill, Percy—” Ron sputtered. “They are just are driving them back, but they aren’t going away. Fred and George are throwing dung bombs.” 

“The Auror? What’s she doing?” 

“She apparated out of here,” Hermione said, disbelief winning out over the disgust in her voice. 

“What did the Demons do to Ginny,” Harry asked, nudging the limp form in his arms.

“Dementors,” Hermione corrected automatically. “They feed off human emotion… memories… people with trauma are more likely to be affected.” 

“How do we help her?” Ron asked. He had reached over Harry and was gently patting her face. Ginny moaned.

“Er. Chocolate!” Hermione said, jumping up and opening a nearby cabinet door. She coughed and dropped by them again. “Drat the dung bombs. I can’t see a thing in here. Why did they think they’d help? Dementors are blind.”

“Wait—what?” Harry asked, licking his lips. “Chocolate?”

“Yes, chocolate. Wixen chocolate is the anecdote to a Dementor encounter,” she said, reciting as if she was reading out of a textbook. “Ron, where’s does your mum keep the chocolate?”

“I’ll get it,” Ron said, choking out the words.

Bill’s voice was growing hoarse as he continued to shout a spell over and over… growing in frustration… but he was now out in the yard. The door slammed as others followed him outside and the open door helped clear the air of smoke, though it brought with it a fetid stench of rotting meat. Harry gagged. 

Ron was fumbling around in the pantry, pushing glass bottles against each other; something spilled, scattering across the floor. 

“Just catch a chocolate frog!” Harry called out, but it didn’t seem as if Ron or Hermione heard him. 

“Here it is!” he said as he crunched across the spilled seeds, thudded next to Harry, shoving the block at Harry’s chest. It took Harry a moment to untangle himself from his cloak and grab it and then he pushed it back to Ron. 

“Unwrap it, would you? I’ve only one free hand,” Harry said. 

Hermione grabbed it from the both of them and next he heard her breaking off a chunk. Harry worked on pulling the cloak off of Ginny’s head and shifting her so that she was sitting more upright. 

Outside it sounded like the battle was moving farther away from the Burrow. 

“Ginny, Ginny,” Hermione murmured, jiggling her shoulder. “Eat this chocolate. It’ll help.”

Ginny groaned and then struggled to sit up a bit. 

“What happened?” she asked, her voice muzzy. 

“Do you remember the Dementors?” Hermione asked. 

“Is that what they were? Ugh. They are horrid. Are they gone?” She was starting to sound more alert.

Ron jumped up and ran over to the kitchen door, banging it open. 

“A heap of Aurors are appararating in!” he shouted. “Auror Bones is back!”

Harry couldn’t repress the shiver that shook through his body at the thought of all the Aurors popping into the Burrow.

Hermione was pulling Ginny up and helping her settle on the long bench at the kitchen table. Harry followed them to the table, adjusting the cloak around his shoulders. Nio worked on making his way up to Harry’s neck asking whispering questions about the malodorous beings that were being driven away by the leg-walkers with sticks. 

Harry could hear Auror Bones giving stentorian orders as the Weasleys clamored back into the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley had switched gears again and was tending to Ginny, though she reverted to her militaristic style again briefly as she ordered the twins to set the kitchen to rights. They weren’t nearly as enthusiastic about casting cleaning spells, but soon the dust was cleared, the furniture restored, and broken dishes knitted themselves back together. Harry felt safe enough to move once the swirling of objects in the room settled down and gingerly found a place at the table next to Ron.

“Harry! Take off the cloak, would you? You scared me,” Ron said.

“Nah. I think I’ll keep it on a bit longer.”

Next, Mrs. Weasley asked the twins to set the kettle on and put out tea. Harry sighed, understanding that it was Mrs. Weasley’s way of recovering from the shock of the invasion… but he wasn’t sure he wanted tea again just yet.

“Harry, you should have some chocolate, too,” Ginny said, pushing the foil-wrapped block against his fingers. “You look really pale.”

Harry felt around the block until he found the opening and broke off a piece. As it melted in his mouth, he felt less wobbly.

The Weasleys started sitting down at the table as the boys grudgingly sent the china, scones, lemon curd, and tea to settle along the length in a discordant tinkling. Harry held himself still as soon as he heard the twins levitating the china. He didn’t want to accidentally crash into a hot teacup again. 

“Oi!” Ron shouted, flinching into Harry. “Fred, you just dribbled hot tea down my neck!” 

“So sorry, Ron!” Fred said, not sounding contrite in the least. “Next time help us with the tea!” 

“I didn’t set the dung bombs off, did I!” Ron groused.

Mr. Weasley had ushered in the Aurors who had, apparently driven off the Dementors. They were talking about it as they tromped into the kitchen and stood, politely refusing the invitation to sit at the table… which had grown longer to accommodate the crowd with an encantation from Mrs. Weasely followed by another chorus of charms from the twins to set out more china and cutlery.

“Where’s Harry?” Mr. Weasley asked, sounding alarmed.

“Right here,” Harry said, moving the cloak off his head and making those around him erupt in nervous laughter. He smiled with them, imagining that his floating head had to look funny. 

Someone stopped behind Harry and put their hand on his shoulder. He drew in a startled breath and turned his ear in their direction. 

“Harry, I apologize for that debacle. Could you please cast your navigation charm again? I’m sure that Black has left the area,” Auror Bones said with suppressed rage, “but we should verify it.”

“Oh, all right,” Harry said as he removed his aftí again and twisted around on the bench to stand up. He steadied himself on Ron’s shoulder as he shook out his staff and repeated the navigation spell. The room was hushed as everyone strained to hear the message.  He increased the volume of his staff so that the voice rang out loud in the room.

It was the same response he’d heard earlier when he tried to navigate to Scabbers… Black was now outside of the range of the spell. Harry’s shoulders slumped and several people let out their breaths. Harry took off the cloak, returned it to his staff, and settled next to Ron again while Auror Bones stomped over to one of the Aurors. 

“This! This is the result of your actions. Dementors. How could you? Dawlish, you will return immediately to the office and start working on your report, detailing how you managed to single-handedly lose Black for us.” 

Dawlish managed to sputter a response and then stalked outside, where an apparition noise popped louder than usual. 

“Rather than evacuate as we had been doing, we’re going to use our collective power to ward this house and set up the Egress. But instead of creating a passage to the Ministry, we will set up a passage to the Center. Do you understand me?” Auror Bones addressed her team. “And I will not tolerate any divergence from my plan. Any.”

The Aurors quickly set to work and a number of them went out into the yard. There was a cry of alarm and someone came running back into the house. “Dawlish splinched himself!” 

Harry’s stomach clenched as others ran out the door, Ron included. 

“Fred, George, Ron! Come back inside this instant!” Mrs. Weasley shouted from the door. “Let the Aurors sort it out! You’re getting in their way.” 

Her voice was so sharp that they obeyed and came tromping in, laughing and shoving against each other. 

“His arse! He left his arse!” George or Fred was chortleing. 

“Language!” Mrs. Weasley corrected. 

Harry swayed and reached out for the table, but didn’t find it where he thought it would be. 

“Harry, are you all right?” Ginny asked, grabbing his outstretched arm and helping him find the tabletop. His knees hit the bench and the stab of pain made them less rubbery. 

He sat on the bench clumsily, breathing in gulps of air. 

The boys had fallen silent and he was certain their eyes were on him. 

“What is it, Harry?” Ron asked quietly. 

“Tony was splinched,” Harry whispered. 

He heard them whispering between them… “armless bloke.”

“Don’t worry, Harry—the Aurors have already set him to rights. Dawlish is fine,” Ron said, with a forced cheerfulness. 

“Except he won’t be able to sit for a week!” Fred said under his breath. 

“Hush. Don’t make fun of the poor man. He’s already had a right fright of a day,” Mrs. Weasley said as she bustled around the table and it took Harry a moment to understand what she was doing… setting warming spells on the tea and scones at different temperatures. 

Harry could hear Fred and George whispering conspiratorily in the corner by the hearth and then couldn’t hear them anymore… as if they had snuck off.

“Come now, let’s have our tea and let the Aurors do their job,” Mrs. Weasley said, her voice a bit tight. “Now where did Fred and George get to?”

“I think they are chasing down their chocolate frogs,” Ginny supplied. 

“They are going to be the death of me!” Mrs. Weasley muttered. “They should be helping with the warding.”

Harry felt waves of magic pulsing through the house. 

“Mrs. Weasley, excuse me, but why didn’t the Aurors do this kind of warding last week when they knew Harry was at the Burrow?” Hermione asked. 

“Oh, well. Yes. We didn’t tell them straight off because, well, we were worried that… erm. Well, we were worried,” Mrs. Weasley said with a nervous trill.

Harry could hear Hermione opening and closing her mouth… as if she was dying to ask more. 

“We’ll be able to celebrate your birthday after all, Harry!” Ginny said with a little gasp. 

“Cake!” Ron sang out and the twins joined him in delight. “There will be cake!”

“Oh, that’s right!” Mrs. Weasley said and then muttered a spell that set a spoon scraping the insides of a bowl on the sideboard again. The sound of the dishes washing themselves started soon after and Harry felt the tension stitching his shoulders together ease a bit. The murmur of the Aurors working throughout the house continued as they cast spells and consulted with each other via their disembodied voices, but as the kitchen’s noises were restored to their normal activity, Harry’s anxiety lessened. He wasn’t sure, though, what he felt about celebrating his birthday. 

Harry acknowledged to himself that it was kind of nuts that when everything went pear-shaped, a part of him was relieved that he wasn’t going to have to celebrate his birthday. He thought of Dudley and how he’d barreled through birthday celebrations with unadulterated glee… his only apprehension being if he was slighted somehow… not enough gifts, Harry spoiling the outing, things not going one-hundred percent his way. Harry shook his head… he’d never be able to feel that way about his birthday. 

“What is it, Harry?” Hermione asked. 

“Huh?” Harry was startled from his reverie. “Er, oh. Nothing. Just thinking…” 

“Are you worried about Black?”

“Er, no I wasn’t thinking about that ,” Harry sighed, as his thoughts returned to the threat dogging his heels. 

“Ron, keep an eye on the cake, would you? I’m going to make sure Arthur hasn’t forgotten to ward the washroom… remember when that Erkling got into the vent? It nearly lured Fred away…” her voice echoed a bit through the hallway until Harry couldn’t make out what she was saying anymore.

“Ron!” Ginny admonished. “I don’t think that’s what mum meant when she asked you to mind the cake! You’re not dipping that frog into the batter!” 

“Oh, Ron. No!” Hermione shouted, horrified. “Take that frog out of the bowl this instant! No! You didn’t!”

“What?” Ron said around a full mouth, stepping over and dropping the crockery on the table with a dull thud. “You said to take it out!”

Harry wasn’t sure why he found it so funny, but the giggles built up in belly until he was having trouble breathing. He listed sideways as he clutched his aching ribs and bumped shoulders with Ginny. She pushed him back upright with an exasperated groan. 

Ron joined in with an explosive guffaw that sent a spray of warm gooey clumps that landed on Harry’s face and hair. Ginny must have been hit, too, as she yelled and stood up, making the bench rock beneath Harry. 

“Ew!” Hermione screeched, jumping back from the table and upsetting the bench. “Ron, that’s absolutely disgusting!”

“Ha! Yeah. Sorry! But Harry thought it was funny!”

“That’s no excuse!”

Harry tumbled off the bench on the other side of the table, rolling on the floor and attempting to wipe off his face as he continued to laugh.

From the corner of the kitchen, near the hearth, there was a scraping of stone followed by faint grunts. Harry rolled to his side and started to sit up, holding his ear in the direction of the noises. 

“What’s that?” he asked, running his hand through his hair and finding wet chunks. He shook his hands to dislodge them and wiped them on his trousers. 

When Ron and Hermione stopped shouting at each other, Harry could hear distorted voices coming from behind a wall. 

Harry got to his knees and shook out his staff, using it to stand up. He took a few tentative steps toward the scraping sounds. 

“Who’s back there? Is there a room behind the fireplace? I thought that was an outside wall.”

Ginny put a hand on his arm, as if to hold him back, but then started to walk toward the corner of the room. Harry followed her. Hermione and Ron came up behind them and they moved together slowly. 

“Is someone coming through the floo?” Harry asked, tilting his head, still trying to discern what was making the noises.

“No, it’s next to the hearth… something is moving there,” Ron said. 

“Oi! Ron! Ginny!” Fred’s voice (or was it George?) called sounding as if it were being piped into the room. 

“Where are you two?” Ron asked. 

“We found a secret room!”

“And someone’s been living here!” 

Chapter Text

Kneeling at the hearth, the four of them huddled as close as they could to the spot where Fred and George’s voices were being piped through the wall. 

Harry reached forward, lightly following the sound with his fingertips across the dusty hearthstones until he found the corner where the hearth joined the wall and the tiny hole where the voices were coming through. 

The twins were talking over each other—it sounded like they were arguing… maybe about whether or not to tell them about what they had found… it was hard to tell as their voices were really far away. On either side of him, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were jostling his shoulders, trying to get closer as well. 

“Harry, you’re covering the hole. We can’t see!” Ron complained. 

Harry pulled his hands back and sat on his heels, letting the three of them crowd forward, wondering what there was to see. He couldn’t imagine there was much of a view into the secret room as the hole was so tiny—about the size of a galleon. 

“ Nio, ” Harry asked the snake coiled on his neck. “Do you want to investigate?” 

“It reaks of rat,” Nio said in protest. “I’d rather not.”

“Rat?” Harry repeated in English and Ron gasped. 

“Scabbers? Did Nio say something about Scabbers?”

“Just that the hole smells like rat… maybe it is where Scabbers is hiding?”

“How could Scabbers get in that hole?” Ginny asked. “It is so much smaller than him.”

“Rats and mice can squeeze into holes much smaller than their body size—they just need to get their skull through and then they can compress their ribs to get the rest of their bodies through tight spaces,” Hermione elucidated. 

“Fred, George! Is Scabbers in there?” Ron asked urgently.

There was some scrabbling on the other side of the hole and then Fred or George’s voice (Harry couldn’t tell) came through clearly as if he were speaking through a pipe. “No sign of him mate. Can you all be quiet? Hang on a sec.”

“How did you get in there?” Harry asked in a stage whisper. “Can you show us?”

“Yeah! Let us in!” Ron echoed. 

“I think we should tell your parents,” Hermione said quietly, her head turned in Ginny’s direction.

The twin’s voices kept echoing through the little hole, but at a greater distance. They were still talking over each other and occasionally words and phrases were distinguishable, but didn’t make any sense. 

Harry started to stand up and squished something under his heel. He felt the floor under his foot and discovered a mangled chocolate frog; its gooey insides sticking to his fingers. 

“Ew! Sorry little guy,” Harry said, wondering where he could wipe his hand. He stood up and started walking toward the sound of the dishes washing in the sink (were they perpetually washing?). He didn’t flick out his staff… not wanting to muck it up with chocolate frog guts and feeling fairly confident that he could make his way across the kitchen without running into anything. Once he’d washed his hands, he used his wand to clean the bottom of his shoe and hoped that he hadn’t tracked chocolate frog across the floor… reminding himself that this wasn’t Aunt Petunia’s kitchen and he wasn’t going to get whacked if he had. 

“Where’d Harry go?” Ron asked, his voice bouncing a bit off the recessed walls of the fireplace.

“Over here, mate,” Harry said, leaning against the sink. He couldn’t hear Fred and George’s voices anymore. 

Harry made his way to the table after hearing the bench rock and guessed that Hermione or Ginny were sitting at it. Before he’d found the bench, footfalls sounded on the back steps, a tremor echoed through the floorboards, and the kitchen door slammed open. 

“How could you hear us?” Fred demanded over the clamoring of Ginny, Hermione, and Ron who were all trying to get answers about the secret room from the twins. One of them had rushed over to the door on the other side of the kitchen and was closing it. 

“There’s a hole by the fireplace,” Hermione explained, her footsteps pattering to the spot they had been kneeling. “See, here?” 

“We’ve got to seal that up,” George muttered.  “Hand me that old tea towel, would you Ron?”

The sound of rending fabric made Harry jump and he edged closer to the fireplace, listening as the twins stuffed the hole with it.

“You lot, come with us. But you can’t tell anyone. Understand?” Fred had grabbed Harry’s arm and was pulling him toward the door. 

Harry stumbled and pulled back. “Oi!” he protested. 

“Sorry, mate,” Fred apologized. “Er, do you want to hold my arm?”

“No,” Harry said, irritated. “Just don’t grab me, okay?” He flicked out his staff and swept it in front of him, feeling no remorse when Fred yelped as it hit his ankle. “I’ll follow you. Where are we going?”

“Shush. We’ll explain when we get there,” George said, in hushed tones. 

Someone put their hand on Harry’s back to hurry him through the door and he was jostled by Ron or Hermione. As he felt for the top stair with his staff, he could hear Ginny admonishing the twins for ruining one of their mum’s favorite linen. 

“That old thing?” Fred questioned. 

“She’ll notice it’s gone!” Ginny insisted. 

“I’ll fix it later. Come on now, Gin, before anyone else comes in,” Fred hurried Ginny along behind Harry and closed the kitchen door. 

Ginny came up next to Harry and brushed her arm against his and he stored his staff as he took her offered lead, grateful as she subtly guided him through the tall grasses, around the garden-gnome holes and mounds that littered the yard. 

They were making their way around the side of the house; the twins still insisting on quiet and rushing them along. They paused at the corner and Fred or George pushed Harry against the wall unceremoniously. Harry resisted the urge to push him off and swallowed his annoyance. 

“What’s wrong, Sthei ?” Nio asked. 

“I hate how they are shoving me around,” Harry seethed. 

“What’s with the hissing?” George asked.

“Talking to his snake,” Ron muttered. “Oi, Harry! Ask Nio if he can smell Scabbers out here.”

“Hush!” Fred admonished as he crunched through the tall grasses.

Harry lowered his voice and translated Ron’s question into Parseltongue. Nio ’s head was bobbing under Harry’s chin and he felt the whisper of the snake’s tongue against his jaw as the snake sampled the air for the rat’s scent. 

“No, Sthei, the rat isn’t out here, either.”

Harry let go of Ginny’s elbow and reached out to find Ron who he could hear trodding along in front of him, grasped his sleeve and when he felt Ron turn toward him, shook his head. 

Ron sighed and resummed his heavy plodding. 

“It’s Mum!” Ginny hissed and someone (Fred?) tugged on Harry’s sleeve, pulling him into a crouched position and listing him sideways so that his shoulder was jabbed by a stone protruding from the wall they were creeping along. Harry huffed out an exasperated sigh as he steadied himself against the wall wondering where Mrs. Weasley headed and had she seen them?

Up ahead Hermione and George were having a whispered argument about whether or not they should be revealing themselves to their mum.

Harry’s left calf began to cramp and he tried to shift his weight, but then Fred was pulling him up by his arm again and everyone around him had started walking forward. Harry wasn’t sure if he should continue crouching as he walked, but decided to straighten up as his back was protesting. He pulled his arm from Fred’s grasp and put it on Ron’s back, his left hand ghosting over the stones, mortar, and timber of the Burrow’s exterior wall that they were creeping around.

Harry was guessing that they were coming up to the corner and Ron had nearly come to a stop. Ginny was peering around him and then Ron turned a corner and Harry followed him. Ron jogged forward and Harry lost contact with his back and then Ginny was nudging his arm and he took her elbow again.  She hurried forward, guiding him around bushes and clumps of grass. Harry thought Fred had charged ahead with Ron. 

Then they were huddled up again with Hermione, Fred, George, and Ron and someone pushed down on his head, forcing him into a crawl. 

“Lower, Sthei . You’re going to strike your head,” Nio warned. “They are going into a very small crevice. I don’t know how they are doing it. It must be some of your stick stuff.”

Harry stroked Nio’s head in thanks and turned his face toward Ginny who was crawling next to him. 

“What do I do?” he asked. 

“Just follow Ron. He’s going in,” Ginny whispered.

Harry reached out in front of him, but couldn’t find Ron’s back. His fingers stubbed against the stone wall and he shook them out to diffuse the pain. He tried again, more cautiously and encountered the wall and traced his fingers lightly over the mortar, then followed a slanted bit of wood embedded in the wall until he found a crack that got larger as he followed it. 

Ginny whispered, “That’s it. Go in there.”

He sat back on his heels. “How?”

“I don’t know…” Ginny paused. “They just went in… it looked bigger when they were going through.”

Harry cocked his head. “Did they all go in already?”

“Yeah, just us left. Come on, follow me.” There was a scrabbling as Ginny moved past him. He put his hand on her back, but she just slipped away and his hand was grazing the wall again.

“ Nio, ” Harry hissed. “How did they get in? Did you see?”

“They were just crawling forward, Sthei, and then they were gone.”

“They didn’t use their wands?” Harry asked as he felt along the crack in the wall again, trying to find the entrance. He couldn’t even detect a magical tingle like he felt when he was near an egress or a heavily warded door. Maybe because the whole Burrow thrummed with magic from all the extra warding… there wasn’t any tingle that stood out from it.

“No sticks.”

Harry put his ear against the wall and held his breath while he listened. Nio slid along his neck, reorienting himself so that his head was farther away from the wall. Harry hoped to hear his friends calling to him from the other side of the wall. 

“Can you hear them?” he asked Nio.

“They sound very far away… not just on the other side of the wall,” Nio explained. “Their vibrations come from deep in the earth.”

Harry dug his fingers deeper into the crevice and felt something moving and then someone’s hand grabbed his wrist and pulled him forward so that he was unbalanced. Harry yelped and put his other arm across the crown of his head, expecting to head butt the wall, but instead he was being pulled through a narrow tunnel, dirt and gravel falling on his back and shoulders, grinding under his knees. He fell forward across a tangle of limbs and wooden floor boards thick with dust, coughing as he tried to right himself. 

“Oi! A warning would be nice!” he grumbled, turning his face away from the bright lights; he guessed that more than one person had lit up their wands to light the space.

“Oh! I’m sorry, Harry. I panicked when you didn’t follow me through,” Ginny said as she pulled herself out from underneath him.

“You just disappeared … I couldn’t find the entrance.”

“Check this out, Harry! Someone has been living here. Do you think it is Black?” Ron said, hovering over Harry. “Here, take my hand.” 

Harry stuck his hand in the air toward Ron’s voice and Ron grasped it and helped him up. 

“Thanks and why aren’t you creeped out by this?” Harry asked as Ron hoisted him up. 

“What?”

“Someone living in your house? That you don’t know about?” Hermione answered, her voice pitched a bit higher than usual.

“It’s definitely creepy,” Ginny muttered from behind Harry as she fiddled with a piece of china. “Look at this! They took mum’s favorite tea cup.”

“And Mum thought I broke it and hid the evidence!” Fred whinged. “As if. Would have repaired it and she’d never know.”

“Just duplicate it… that way we sneak it back in… maybe even convince mum that she lost it and whoever is living here won’t know that we’ve found them out,” George said. 

“Bloody brilliant! Oi, Ron! No touching. Stop rummaging around—I knew we shouldn’t have brought you lot in here,” Fred had lunged across the small space, knocking past Harry in his hast.

Harry flung out his arms trying to regain his balance and hit something that came crashing down around his ankles. 

He landed hard on his bum and just started flailing. Frustration at constantly being pulled and pushed like a pinball boiling over so that he was a mess of limbs striking out. 

“Mate! Lighten up! What’s your problem?” Fred exploded in exasperation. “Are you a toddler?”

Harry got his rage under control after a bit of rolling around on the floor and pulled himself into a tight ball, now embarrassed by his outburst. He stuck a finger under Nio’s coils at his neck that had constricted when he hit the floor. 

“Sorry,” he hissed into his arms to the snake. 

Someone was rubbing circles on his back, someone else was picking up the things he’d knocked to the ground and setting them on a dull wooden surface. He wanted to shake the hand off his back, but didn’t want to indulge in more pettiness. He was glad he couldn’t see the pitying expressions that must be on their faces. 

Nio hissed near Harry’s ear. 

“What do you mean by that?” Harry asked.

“Is he telling you more about Scabbers?” Ron asked (he had been helping Hermione put the stack of books back on the table).

“It was a bunch of books that I knocked over?” Harry said, distracted from his conversation with Nio.  

“Yeah, strange ones, too,” Hermione said. “Really dark and dangerous. I think we should tell the adults… this place gives me the shivers.”  

“What did the snake say about Scabbers?” Ron asked again. 

“ Nio said that it smells like a rat down here, but not like a rat. I’m not sure what he’s on about,” Harry said, turning to Ron and then asking Nio in Parseltongue.

“Yeah… he can’t explain it beyond that,” Harry sighed. 

“These books…” Hermione said absently as she flipped through one. “They are really dangerous. We really need to tell someone now.”

“Naw, Hermione. We’re not going to show anyone this place… it is the perfect spot for me and George to work on our products!” Fred said. “And this is why I didn’t want to show them, George!” 

"I know, but she has a point. Mate, the Head Auror is here hunting a mass murderer," George hissed back. "And it looks like one has been bunkering in our house."

"All right. I’ll give you that," Fred conceded, as the two of them were retreating to a quieter corner and the intensity of the light in the room dimmed. 

The rest of the kids had frozen in place, though, so that they could make out every word the twins were muttering. 

"Let's tell them with the condition that after they catch the bloody bastard, we get to use this room. It's fair; after all…we found it. Finders, keepers, and all that."

"All right, we'll tell mum and dad," George announced when they turned around to face the others. 

"And you lot will help us convince them that we need the space for our inventions," Fred demanded sternly.

Ginny snorted, “Good luck with that.”

“Harry,” Fred said, a little too oily for Harry’s comfort and came over to Harry to sling an arm over his shoulder. “You’ll put in a good word for us, won’t you? That wallet we made you… pretty sleek, isn’t it? Just imagine the other things we could make for you if we had a space like this to work in.”

Harry winced away from the bright light that came with Fred and smiled uncomfortably while Hermione harrumphed softly in protest, still leafing through the pile of books.

“Sure, mate. The wallet is handy… but remember the T-shirt? Whenever I wear it, it says something different… that I can’t read. So while it is bloody entertaining for everyone around me, the joke’s on me. Literally,” Harry jabbed Fred with his elbow to drive home the point.

“Ah! All right, all right. We’ll do a better job of including you in the joke next time. We’re new to this market. Still have some kinks to iron out,” Fred said, jumping away from Harry to avoid more pokes. 

Harry cocked his head to the left listening to someone crawling around on the floor. 

“Ron, what are you on about?” 

“Looking for Scabbers!” Ron said from across the small room. “Do you think that Black was living here? Is that why you could navigate to him? He was that close? Maybe he took Scabbers!” 

“What would that mangy dog want with the rat?” George laughed. 

“That’s unlikely, isn’t it?” Hermione agreed. “Though from what I’ve read about Sirius Black, these could be his books. The Black family has a dark history.”

“Ha! Dark history. That’s a good one!” Fred said. 

“Whoever has been living here has been taking stuff from our house for years. This went missing the year the twins started at Hogwarts!” Ginny exclaimed. 

“How can you remember that?” George asked. 

“Mum was so fussed about it; she talked about it constantly,” Ginny said. “She’d try to summon it every morning.”

“But it didn’t come when she summoned it? Does that mean that there are wards on this room? Wouldn’t they have kept us from finding it?” Hermione questioned. 

“We may have accidentally tampered with the wards on the Burrow,” George said sheepishly. 

“What?” the younger kids said in a chorus of disbelief. 

“Just a bit of a mishap with one of our experiments… might have taken down the wards for a day. We got them back up… with no one noticing, I’ll have you know,” Fred said with a bit of pride. 

“Warding is really advanced magic,” Hermione said with awe. 

“Don’t we know it!” Fred said with a groan. 

"Wait. When was that?" Ginny asked.

"Don't worry, Ginny. We got it back up before we flew out to meet Harry," George said.

"But you had to be talking a lot about Harry, right?" Hermione said. 

“Do you think that’s how Black knew Harry was here?” Ron asked, his voice coming from the floor where he was still crawling around looking for Scabbers.

“I suppose it could be,” Hermione said gravely and the little room got very quiet.

The hair on the back of Harry’s neck rose as he felt all their eyes on him. He swallowed and turned toward the wall. He was overwhelmed with a jumble of feelings—mostly his own safety and the safety of these people who loved him. He had a sudden urge to leave the space, but wasn’t sure where the door was… if there even was a door for that matter. 

He reached out to where he could sense the wall through the way the air and sounds bounced off it. He expected it to be plaster, like the walls of the Burrow, but was surprised to find a rough wall with mortar oozing out between crumbling bricks… as if the space had been built quickly and without care. 

Everyone was still quiet and he assumed staring at him… the floor creaked under his feet as he felt along the bricks, trying to find the way out. 

“What are you looking for,” Ginny asked. 

“The way out…I need to get out of here.” 

The space had a feeling, and maybe an odor, that was too reminiscent of the cupboard under the stairs… and the similar feeling of being simultaneously hidden and exposed. 

Finally, he found a crevice that made a tingle spark through his body and he pushed into it until he had fallen out into the high grasses that surrounded the Burrow. 

“ Sthei, where are we going?” Nio asked as Harry rose on his hands and knees, sputtering to get the grasses out of his mouth. “Back to our home under the stone circle?”

Chapter Text

Harry didn’t have a chance to answer Nio because the lot of them spilt out on top of Harry, so that he was at the bottom of a pile of knees and elbows until his shield shoved them all away. They yelped in surprise and then started laughing. 

“That was brilliant, Harry!” Ron’s shout was muffled by the bubble around Harry. “Like bouncing off a pigmy puff!” 

“I was trying to get away from you!” he growled, though he felt less irritated. 

Nio constricted around his neck and hissed against his ear, “The air in there was foul.”

Harry agreed and ran his fingers over the snake’s smooth scales. 

He put his head on his knees and sighed, drawing in a deep breath. Clouds made the light tolerable and he didn’t have to shut his eyes.

I thought this birthday would be different. 

He had imagined a day playing a pick-up game of Quidditch, eating Mrs. Weasley’s scrumptious concoctions until he was bursting at the seams, gut-wrenching laughter with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the twins. Not this. Not dark wixen pursuing him, not the ministry mucking things up again, not being pushed and pulled and knocked and bruised by everyone. 

Harry said the incantation to end his shield and slowly got to his feet. The wind had picked up since they were inside, the temperature dropped as well and brought with it the smell of rain. He pushed the urge to hop on his broom away… though he was tempted to stalk off to the Quidditch field and stew for a while, but gulped more of the damp air and turned to his friends. 

“Listen, you have to stop pulling me around,” he pleaded. “Just ask first, please.”

“Right, sorry, Harry,” Fred said. “I’ll work on it.”

“Me, too,” George said. They both sounded uncharacteristically contrite enough for Harry to relax a bit. 

Hermione let out an exasperated huff and Harry could imagine the look she was giving the twins. It made him smile weakly.

Something caught his attention… a slight high-pitched whine coming from the house at his back, near the ground. He turned his ear toward it trying to hear it better and made the sign for quiet. 

“What’s that mean?” Ginny asked. 

“Shh! I hear something,” Harry said, though he couldn’t help but repeat the sign.

“Is it Scabbers?” Ron said hopefully. 

“No, it's like air whistling through a pipe,” Harry said. “Don’t you hear it?”

Everyone got quiet as they listened for the noise, the wind blowing through the branches made it harder to hear. 

“Nope, don’t hear it,” George muttered. 

“Oh, I hear it now,” Ginny said. “But how did you hear it at all? It’s so faint.”

Harry shrugged and shook out his staff, wacking at the tall grasses (many of which had been flattened by all their tromping around) as he followed the sound to the side of the Burrow, further along the wall than where they had entered the secret room. The silver tip on his staff tinged against the wall, ringing distinctively against wood, mortar, and stone and giving Harry a sense of the pattern of the wall. 

He had to stop a number of times to listen carefully as everyone was making a racket following behind him, even though he could tell they were trying to walk quietly through the grasses and garden gnome dens. He heard a few of the Gernumblies squealing when his staff got stuck in a hole.

“Careful, Sthei ,” Nio warned. “Don’t fall into the gnome’s lair. They have sharp teeth.”

“Don’t I know it?” Harry muttered in Parseltongue remembering the gnome bite he got thanks to Luna Lovegood just a few weeks ago. He wondered if it had enhanced his creativity as she claimed it would. Or if the bite had anything to do with his recent forays into underground tunnels. 

But then he realized that he had found the source of the whistling. He could feel the breeze coming through the wall now and it was rank. He turned his face away. 

“Here it is. Why does it smell so bad?” he asked, almost gagging. 

“Oh, that is foul!” Hermione said, steadying herself on his arm as she lurched, presumably after stepping in a gnome den. 

“There are so many gnome holes here,” Ginny commented. “Mum’s going to have us rooting them out before bedtime.”

“Ugh! She can’t do that on Harry’s birthday!” Ron protested. 

Harry agreed.

“Its like the secret room, but worse,” Fred said. 

“Hard to imagine worse,” George coughed.

“This is worse. What is that smell?” Harry wondered, holding his hand over his mouth and nose. He hadn’t smelt anything like it before. It was like a combination of mucky wet leaves, over-ripe apples, slug slim and a hint of something long dead. Nio had buried his head under the collar of Harry’s T-shirt and his whispering tongue was tickling Harry’s collarbone. 

Harry angled his head trying to hear exactly where the whistling was coming from. He collapsed his staff and flicked it back into his holster as he was closer now. He had expected it to be from a pipe near the ground, but now it seemed to be coming from higher up on the wall. He put his hand out to feel for the breeze. 

"What are you doing?" Ron asked. 

"Trying to find where the noise is coming from," Harry said as he waved his hands in front of him. He imagined he did look kinda silly. 

"You can feel noise?" Ron asked, bewildered and a bit awed.

"It sounds like wind going through a pipe," Harry explained.

"Oh, right," Ron said. “Did you do something to magically enhance your hearing or something?” 

“Naw,” Harry said, shaking his head and rolling his eyes, but continuing to search for the source of the whistling noise. He was lightly running his hands over the timber, wattle, and brick texture of the uneven wall when his right hand went off into a space he wasn’t expecting. He pushed into the space, thinking that it was just the catawampous construction of the Burrow and stepping toward the empty space. He couldn’t hear or feel the wind whipping around a corner and his sense of where he was along the side of the house didn’t match up with this opening. 

“Harry!” Ron yelled, pulling him back so that Harry staggered against him. The others crowded around them. 

“What is it?” Harry asked as he righted himself. “The wall disappeared.”

“No, the wall stayed and you disappeared… or most of you,” Ron said, sounding shaken. 

“How’s that?” Harry asked, knitting his brows together. He hadn’t noticed any magical thrumming like passing through an Egress or felt any difference in the atmosphere around him like when a shield sprung up around him. 

“I think it is an illusion charm,” Hermione said, her voice bouncing off the wall back to Harry like she was standing nose to wall. 

He pulled away from Ron who was still clinging to him and walked toward Hermione, trodding on someone’s toes in the process. 

“Ow! Careful mate,” one of the twins protested. 

“Sorry,” Harry muttered. 

“Well, it’s not a very good one, is it?” Ginny said. 

“Why’s that?” Harry asked. 

“You just walked right through it,” Hermione said. “I’m surprised you all haven’t found this before now.”

“It’s not like we go around feeling our house,” George grumbled. 

“It’s strange though,” Hermione continued. “My hand doesn’t disappear when I press into the wall.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. When I press against it, there’s still a wall here.”

“So why is it whistling?” Harry said, putting his hand up against his ear to block the shrillness of it. 

“No idea. It looks just like the wall… if you hadn’t been pressed up against it, we’d have never noticed anything amiss,” Fred said. 

“I’m going to go back into that crevice,” Harry warned, trailing his hand on the wall again, looking for the empty space. “I need to find what’s making that noise.”

“No, Harry. It could be a trap… maybe it is designed just to trap you!” Hermione said in alarm. 

Someone was holding onto his shirt—Ginny, he guessed. 

“Odd place for a trap, though. It’s not like I’d normally be walking along this side of the house. If someone was trying to trap me, wouldn’t they try to get me to come out here alone?”

Hermione put her hand on his arm and he shook it off. 

“I’ll be fine. Ginny’s got my shirt. You lot are all right here. And it seems to be something that just I can find.”

“Harry! That’s what I’m talking about. Something’s not right!” Hermione insisted, her voice pitched high.

He patted her arm trying to reassure her and moved around her to find the space again… it wasn’t like going around a corner… it was as if the wall just disappeared under his hands. Just there then not there… like walking where he expected pavement and then there was just a hole that his staff swept over and his foot was just falling into nothingness. 

Hermione gasped behind him. 

“Your hand just disappeared,” she explained. “It’s as if you put on the invisibility cloak, except reversed.”

“Like you’re wearing the house!” Ron chortled. 

“I’m getting Mrs. Weasley!” Hermione said and she ran off. Another set of foot steps followed her and Harry wondered who it was.

“So strange!” George marvelled as Harry moved more of his body into the empty space. The whistling was getting louder and he tried to cover up his ear with his hand while using his elbow to navigate along the wall until he was fully standing in a space where the wall had disappeared… though now, the sounds were echoing differently… as if he stepped into an alcove. 

Ginny tugged at the back of his shirt, but not hard enough to upend him—a gentle reminder that he was tethered. 

Someone shoved in next to him. 

“Hermione’s right. Something is off about this. I’m coming with you this time, mate,” Ron explained as his elbow dug into Harry’s ribs. 

“What does it look like in here?” Harry asked. 

“Let me in more, it still looks like a wall. Real close up, but still a wall. And, ugh, it is foul.”

Harry held his breath as he reached forward, trying to find the walls of the alcove that it sounded like he was in. 

“What does it look like to you, Nio? ” Harry asked in Parseltongue. 

“It smells even worse than that rat hole,” Nio said as he slipped under Harry’s shirt and wiggled to his tummy. 

“That’s not what I asked,” Harry protested, but the little snake had retreated and was burrowing his nose in Harry’s navel which made him squirm. 

Another person squeezed in next to him on his other side… one of the twins, Harry surmised from their height. Harry still hadn’t been able to find the wall. Ginny was now tugging more on his shirt as he tried to move deeper into the space.

Harry’s outstretched hands finally found the wall again. It was brick with mortar squeezed out in uneven lumps as if someone had hastily thrown it together. He followed the sound up the wall until his fingers found the source of the whistling… a strong wind coming through a small metal pipe high up on the wall, almost out of his range. 

“Oh, this is so odd,” Ginny was saying from behind the three of them. 

Ron and George were pushing against him, muttering about how they were just pressed up against a rather rugged wall and getting scratched in the process. 

“Here, help me reach it,” Harry grunted.

“Reach what?” Ron asked.

“This pipe. Up here,” Harry said as he stretched up as far as he could on his tip toes, body extended along the rough wall, bits of mortar crumbling off and raining around his feet. 

Nio hissed in alarm as he was being smushed against the edifice. Harry sucked in his belly to give the snake more room. 

“I can’t see anything,” George protested. “You are invisible… I can’t see what you're touching.”

“Then feel for my hand,” Harry grunted, trying to grasp the thin pipe. It moved, grating against the disintegrating mortar. His fingers interrupted the whistling as they plugged the orifice. “You’re taller than me. You’ll be able to grab it.”

George’s fumbling hand found Harry’s, and then followed it up to the pipe. Once he had it, Harry moved out of the way and listened as George drug it out of the wall. It sounded like the silver tip on his staff when he walked across paving stones.

“Is it goblin silver?” Harry asked.

“No idea. I still can’t see it,” George said and then stepped back into Harry. 

Harry moved out of his way and Ron followed him, then the four of them were gathered around Harry as George grabbed his hand, flipped it palm up and placed the small, light-weight pipe in his hand. The whistling had stopped and the foul odour was dissipating. 

“Oi. I think it is. How did you know that Harry?” George asked. 

Harry shrugged his shoulders instead of explaining how he could hear the silver. 

Thudding feet stomped toward them. “What did you find?” Fred asked, sounding out of breath. 

In the distance, Harry could hear Hermione talking rapidly to Mrs. Weasley, whose loud inquiries sounded just as alarmed, and gathered that they were headed their way. 

Harry ran his fingers over the metal tube and found that it was tapered at the end. There were holes along one side. He brushed the dust off the surface and turned it around, moving it toward his mouth. 

“What on earth are you doing?” Mrs. Weasley shouted. “Don’t put that in your mouth!”

“Er. It’s a flute,” Harry said. 

“It’s a magical object that was hidden behind an illusion charm!” 

“You knew it was there?” Ginny asked. 

“No, but whoever put it there was up to no good,” Mrs. Weasley harumphed as she took the flute from Harry’s hand. “It could be a trap!”

“Oi! Mum! We didn’t do it!” Fred and George protested. 

 “Well, thank goodness it isn’t a portkey! Now, where was it?” 

The other children were trying to show her, but couldn’t they find the place where Harry had disappeared. Harry shook out his staff and moved toward the wall again, knocking at ankles until they cleared a space for him and then demonstrated for Mrs. Weasley how he had found it.  Though now that the flute was no longer whistling, it was harder for him to find the spot and he had to feel along the wall following the diagonally placed timber pieces until his hand fell into empty space again. 

“Here it is,” Harry said finally, pulling his hand out and then putting it back into the hole. 

“Oh, my. Well, that’s an advanced spell… far beyond what you can do,” Mrs. Weasley said and again the twins decried the injustice of the accusations.

“And you shouldn’t be able to do that. I don’t think that’s how it works. Something is off. Arthur! Auror Bones! You need to see this!,” Mrs. Weasley said, her voice suddenly authoritative and forceful.

Harry’s head whipped up as he tried to ascertain if Auror Bones and Arthur had joined them, but he couldn’t hear any evidence that they had and guessed that Mrs. Weasley had cast the spell that allowed her to send a message. He made a mental note to ask Hermione about it later. It would be a handy one to know. 

Within seconds, the pop of apparition sounded nearby and everyone flocked around the new arrivals to tell them about the discoveries… the hidden room as well, much to Mrs. Weasley’s shock and dismay. Harry hung back, poking his staff into a fresh garden gnome hole. But then they quieted down enough where he could make out that they were talking about how only he could go through the cloaking on the side of the house to locate the flute and he felt as if all eyes were on him. 

“Er, Harry, could you show us?” Bill asked quietly and Harry was surprised to learn that Bill was there, too. 

He shrugged and found the wall again with his staff, when Arthur exclaimed, “This flute! It’s been lost for at least a decade! Since Ron was a baby. I remember trying to find it… Remember, Molly? Ron was such a collicky baby!”

Ron groaned. 

"No, Arthur. I think it was when Ginny was a baby. I remember you used to play a flute to lull her to sleep. It's so tarnished, I didn't recognize it."

“Er, let me clean it up,” Arthur said and cast a cleaning spell. 

“Oh, yes. I see it now. It’s the one your mother gave you—the Black family heirloom? I had forgotten about that. Yes, I think it is.”

The whistling started again…a gentle tune this time that was no longer discordant, but soothing and Harry yawned widely and rubbed at his eyes. Then Arthur changed the tune to a lively jig and instantly the heaviness in his limbs evaporated, Harry’s foot started tapping as if of it’s own accord. 

“That’s quite the magical object,” Auror Bones observed. 

“I don’t know how it ended up here. Quite the mystery. But this secret room behind the hearth is even more alarming,” Arthur said, the magical trilling of the flute hanging on the air for a few notes. 

“And there were lots of books in the room,” Hermione disclosed. “Books a dark wixen would use… from the Hogwarts library!” 

“What? How do you know that?” the others clammored around Hermione demanding to know. 

Hermione was flipping open a book, the pages rustling. 

“I don’t like this at all. A dark wizard has been living in our house? Stealing our heirlooms? Arthur! How is this possible?” Mrs. Weasley demanded. “How could we not notice?”

“I suggest a cleansing,” Auror Bones said. “After a thorough investigation, of course. I’ll have my best team come in immediately. We’ll get to the bottom of this. Is there somewhere you all can go in the meantime? I don’t think it is wise for you to remain here when your house has been so thoroughly compromised.”

Harry quietly found the wall with his staff to follow it back to the Weasley’s kitchen. The thought of the lot of them having to relocate was disconcerting… he was the one who had brought all this danger to their home and he knew that there was a simple solution.   

Chapter Text

Harry whacked at the grasses that bordered the house, stumbling over the garden gnome burrows because he had silenced the navigation from his staff…too annoyed with everyone to bear even the vibrations. When the sharp scent of mint replaced the more subtle grass aromas, he knew he was approaching the kitchen steps.

Someone came running up behind him.

"Harry, mate! You can't just run off again!" It was Ron.

Harry braced for impact, but Ron stopped short and didn't grab him. He let out the breath he was holding. He reached out his staff to find the steps to the back door that he knew were near and then sat down on them with a huff and slipping his staff into his holster. Harry pushed his hands through his hair and tried to remember how to calm his racing heart with measured breaths.

“What are you doing?” Ron asked.

Harry drew in a breath and let it out slowly before answering, “I’m trying to calm down.”

“Why are you so worked up?”

Harry tried to shoot an annoyed glance at Ron… remembered he couldn’t see and put his head in his hands.

“I can’t stay here, Ron. I’m putting everyone in danger. I shouldn’t have come here in the first place. You lot were safer when I was living off carrots underground.”

“It turned your nose turned orange, mate.”

“Seriously? Is it still orange?” Harry asked while touching his nose as if he could feel the oranginess.

“It’s getting back to normal,” Ron laughed.

“Well, at least you didn’t have murderers and soul-suckers and aurors stomping through your garden! And I can’t even tell my nose turned orange… so so what! I have an orange nose and your house isn’t getting blown up!”

Ron sat down on the step, squeezed in next to Harry and leaned in to him and said, “It’s not like that doesn’t happen on a regular basis around here anyway… what between the twins’ experiments in their room and dad’s tinkering on muggle artifacts in the shed. And if Ginny wasn’t in such a funk, she’d be doing her fair share as well.”

“You heard what Auror Bones said… your house has been compromised. You all have to find another home! And what’s going to happen then? This mess follows me everywhere… and one of you is going to get hurt or worse… and I just can’t live with that. Look what happened to Ginny! Riddle was after me! He was using Ginny to get to me. She almost died!” Harry tried to swallow the sob that rode the words but it escaped anyhow and he put his hands over his mouth to prevent anymore from getting out.

Ron swung an awkward arm over his shoulders and pulled Harry into a tight side-hug. “You can’t do this by yourself, Harry. We want to help you.”

“That’s right,” Hermione said in a hoarse whisper and Harry whipped his head up. He hadn’t heard her approaching, but he did hear others behind them and soon he was surrounded by the whole jostling group again trying to reassure him that they didn’t care that he was Death Eater bait.

“I care!” Harry shouted, standing up and pushing them away from him. “I can’t do this to you!”

He clasped his arms around his chest and turned in a tight circle, thinking hard about the safe coolness of the underground cave, the damp earthy smell almost invading his nostrils and suddenly he was being sucked through the compressing tube of apparition and landing in a heap on the cool compacted dirt of the cave. He reached out a hand and found the tiled edge of the pool right where he imagined it would be.

Nio squirmed against his belly and hissed at Harry, as angry as he’d ever heard the little snake. Harry put a protective hand over the bundle of snake at his navel.

“I’m so sorry, Nio!” Harry murmured. “I didn’t mean to do that… except I did! How did I do that? I apparated! I don’t even know how to apparate! I didn’t think I’d be able to ever apparate… I thought it was a visual thing.”

“You’re not making any sense, Sthei,” the snake said grumpily. “Don’t do that again. I don’t like it. I felt like I was being turned inside out.”

As he pulled himself up to a kneeling position, Harry realized that he hadn’t thrown up this time. “Maybe because I did it myself instead of being pulled along by someone else’s spell?”

“Still not making any sense,” Nio complained as he worked his way out of Harry’s tucked-in shirt.

Harry put out a hand and Nio used it as a bridge to the ledge around the pool.

“I could use some big worms to get me through the trauma,” the snake hissed.

Harry smiled and made his way over to the familiar alcove where the tangle of roots and loose soil hanging down from the ceiling also hid the slimy worms that Nio loved so much.

Before handing the worms over to Nio, though, he tapped them with is wand and muttered the duplicating spell that Hermione taught him that week until he had a squirming pile of worms in his palm. While Nio gummed his lunch, Harry held a couple of the worms up to the fringed roof of the alcove until they found their way back into the earth. He didn’t know how long they would be living on worms and carrots this time and didn’t want to risk running out of food for either of them. He wasn’t quite ready to start eating the carrots yet.

Harry took a long drink of cool water from the pool and filled up his water bottle from his staff. He found the sleeping alcove, pulled the invisibility cloak back on, tying it to his wrists and ankles as he had done before. He then made a nest out of his school cloaks and then settled down with the slate tablet to assure his friends that he was fine and safe and well hidden away.

Harry heard the nearly imperceivable rustle of Nio’s body pushing against the loose gravel and dust of the tiled floor as he entered the nook and he put out a hand so that the little snake could climb up it and join him.

“Even though the way we got here was unpleasant, I’m really very happy to be back in this cosy burrow,” Nio sighed as he coiled next to Harry.

Harry’s stomach gurgled and he thought about the carrots again… but he wasn’t ready yet. He thought about the birthday cake Mrs. Weasley had been making for him and wondered if they were all eating it without him.

[break]

It had been at least a week since Harry’s birthday and his accidental return to the stone circle cave. Hedwig had flown in through the distant cave entrance on the coast later on the same day that Harry and Nio had apparated to the dwelling. She grumbled at Harry at first, but soon was happy hunting rodents in the nearby fields. Harry mindfully duplicated the carrots, turnips, and beets before he harvested them. He spent his days reading his school books in preparation for school (he grudgingly admitted to Hermione that it did help stave off his boredom and loneliness), sending messages back and forth with Ron, Hermione, Gemma, and Peter, and swimming in the pool.

His ability to read Braille was improving quickly as he practised it so much with his slate… he also learned that he could read his books faster with his anagnóstis by passing it over the words quickly as long as he used the ruler to help him keep the tool straight on the page. It actually helped keep his focus on the words instead of wandering into daydreams when it read at a normal pace.

Harry practised apparating short distances now that he knew how to do it. Somehow, accidentally apparating had pushed his worries about ending up like Tony out of his head and the more he practised, the more comfortable he became. At first, he just tried jumping from the sleeping alcove to the foyer with the drinking pool and carrot alcoves, then he tried jumping from the foyer to the swimming pool, then to the opening of the cave on the cliff face overlooking the ocean. He explored the stone circle, rock by rock until he knew them all by touch and could run from rock to rock, naming them and recognizing them by their craggy surfaces. Nio would doze in the sun (only accompanying him when it was sunny—so not too often) and hiss encouragements as Harry grew more and more confident and then Harry practised jumping from stone to stone… they were all short enough for him to be able to clamber onto them… he imagined that some of the longer ones had been standing tall at one point but had toppled over.

If he heard an infrequent auto approaching on the distant gravel road, he would jump to Nio and gather up the snake to hurry down the entrance (Nio refused to join Harry on the practice jumps). Harry was pretty certain that it was far enough away that no one could see them… and he had to remind himself that was wearing his invisibility cloak. No muggles ever visited the site and he couldn’t find any National History markers… so he imagined that the wixen who made this site had used muggle-repelling charms to keep it hidden.

Hedwig would perch on the stones and if he jumped too near to her, then she’d fly away in a burst of indignant squawks. It was hard for him to hear her unless she hooted to let him know where she was. On the surface, he could only jump to spots that he knew fully through touch… but in the underground dwelling, he could navigate into areas that he knew by the echoing sounds that defined the space as well, even if he wasn’t as familiar with them as the stones in the circle.

Harry really wanted to hop back to the Burrow, if only for a meal… but he could read between the lines in the messages from his friends and it sounded as if the adults were only willing to tolerate his hiding in the caves if he stayed there. Any venturing out and he was likely to be convinced to stay at the Burrow or go to the Department of Mysteries… it was enough to keep him gnawing on carrots. Plus, they couldn’t find him… he knew that he was untrackable where he was. If he ventured out, he might muck it up completely.

That didn’t stop him from fantasizing about apparating to a muggle bakery or grocery store in the middle of the night when his gnawing hunger woke him up. He dreamed about packing his staff full of food… he could almost visualize the shop in Little Whinging or even Number 4 Privet drive… though he imagined that if he magicked his way into the Dursley’s house that the Ministry of Magic would send more than letters after him this time.

His mind replayed the moment when Dobby had levitated the cake… the horror of it as it floated through the kitchen destined for destruction… even though Aunt Petunia tended toward the bland in most of her dishes, she did make delicious cakes. As he was drifting to sleep, he thought about the rich buttercream frosting and the spongy texture of the cake. And then he sat up and smacked himself on the forehead.

“Dobby! I could ask Dobby!” Harry said aloud to the sleeping alcove. And then he heard the pop of apparition. It was the same noise he had heard last summer when Dobby had been intercepting his mail… and now he recognized it for what it was.

“Harry Potter… are you here?” the squeaky voice of the house-elf inquired.

“Oh! Dobby! How did you do that?” Harry asked. “No one knows where I am.”

“Dobby still doesn’t know where Harry Potter is. Dark it is,” Dobby said and then there was a snap and a sudden burst of light that sent Harry scrabbling back into his covers, with his hands over his eyes.

“Oh, ow!”

“What is it?” Dobby asked, distressed.

“Just… just bright lights hurt,” Harry said.

“Dobby is so sorry. But where is Harry Potter? Dobby hears his voice, but can’t see him.”

Harry tried taking his hands off his eyes and even with his eyes closed, he could tell that the light in the little room was still too strong. He fished his glasses out of his staff, sighing in relief as they blocked the intensity of the light.

“I’m right in front of you,” Harry said, forgetting that he was invisible.

“Harry Potter must be wearing his death cloak,” Dobby said.

“What? Death cloak? What do you mean?” Harry asked, lurching forward.

“The cloak… it hides Harry Potter so well that wizards thinks the Great Harry Potter is dead. But Dobby knows you are not dead… just hidden.”

“How did you find me?” Harry asked, relieved that the cloak wasn’t deadly.

“Dobby heard Harry Potter call Dobby’s name and came,” the elf explained. “Don’t worry… only elves can do it. Harry Potter is safe in his sacred dwelling.” His voice was pointed down toward the floor and Harry reached out for him, finding his pointy ears and then his shoulder.

“Please don’t bow to me, Dobby,” Harry asked in a pained voice. “I didn’t know that you’d be able to hear me… let alone that you’d come when I called. I’m sorry, Dobby. I’m sure you were doing something important.”

“Only sleeping. Dobby is always happy to help Harry Potter. Harry Potter freed Dobby… even when Harry Potter couldn’t see. Harry Potter is the greatest wizard alive! And even better than most who are dead. Dobby thinks often about Harry Potter and wishes he could help Harry Potter.”

“You are very kind, Dobby,” Harry said, tilting his chin down and feeling his ears and back of his neck grow warm with embarrassment. “I do need some help. I’m hungry and I can’t leave this cave.”

“Harry Potter needs food!” Dobby said and there was another pop.

“Dobby?” Harry asked the air in front of him, where the little elf had been, and moved his hand through the space.

“Dobby will be right back!” Dobby’s voice answered. “Dobby is getting Harry Potter food!”

Harry sat back down on the ledge of his stone bed and called in Parseltongue to Nio, “Little Friend, are you close by?”

All he heard in response was a hissing snore coming from the bundle of cloaks on the sleeping shelf. He left the snake where he was and sat as patiently as he could, waiting for the elf to return.

Suddenly an ambrosial aroma filled the space… even before the pop of apparition alerted him to the return of his friend.

“Oh, Dobby! This is a feast!” Harry clapped his hands in delight as his stomach gurgled in response.

There was the sound of wood legs hitting the tile floor and Harry reached his hand toward the sound, finding the legs of a low table, covered in a silky cloth. Harry followed the table leg up to the surface and felt gingerly for the edge of a plate. His nose helped guide him as well and he could feel steam rising off the food as well as his face neared the table.

“Dobby will explain the plate,” the elf said. “There is braised chicken with rosemary leaf at noon. At three o’clock Harry Potter will find the buttered mash, at six o’clock green beans, and at nine o’clock a slice of warm hearth bread.

Harry flicked out his wand and said the duplicating charm, holding out his hand to catch the plate as it sprung into existence.

“Dobby, please will you join me for dinner?”

The house-elf burst into sobs and Harry froze as he was holding the plate out to him.

“Did I do something wrong?” Harry asked tentatively. Dobby sounded quite distressed.

“No, no. That’s not it. Dobby is just so ashamed… Harry Potter continues to offer Dobby friendship like Dobby has never experienced before… not even from other house-elves… and Dobby abandoned Harry Potter when his need was so great.”

“What are you talking about? You risked your life to warn me about Malfoy’s intentions… and you didn’t even know me,” Harry said, gesturing toward the elf with the plate. “Is there room on the table for your plate?”

Harry felt a ripple of magic pass through the air and heard the table legs skitter a bit as they grew.

“Now there is!” Dobby said as he took the plate from Harry’s hand and set it down on the table. More wood sounded on the tile and then there was the tinkling of silverware settling next to the plates. Harry reached toward the sound and found a chair. He settled into it and felt around the plate, finding a place setting with an elegantly folded serviette.

He waited for a bit as Dobby sat across from him, his sniffles diminishing.

“May Harry Potter go forth in health!” Dobby declared and then paused.

It took Harry a second to realize that the elf had raised his glass in a toast and Harry felt around the table until he found a goblet. He raised it gingerly.

“And Dobby as well!” Harry said in response as Dobby clinked their glasses together. Harry took a sniff as he sipped and was overwhelmed with gratitude that it was pumpkin juice.

They settled into their meal. Harry tried to eat slowly and savour each flavorful bite, but he was so ravenously hungry. Even so, he couldn’t eat very much before he was full. His stomach must have shrunk on the root diet.

Using the serviette to wipe the grease that had slid down his chin, Harry asked, “Dobby, what have you been doing since the Center closed?”

“Dobby has been helping put it to rights! But it will still be a long time until the Center is ready to open again,” Dobby said, his tone drooping. “Dobby is sorry that it won’t be ready before Harry returns to Hogwarts.”

“But you still have a job? And a place to live?” Harry asked.

“Dobby lives quite comfortably… as Harry Potter does in this sacred dwelling.”

Harry nodded in response… his eyes growing heavy now that his stomach was full. Harry leaned against the wall and drew his feet underneath him.

“And what about your family?” Harry asked. “Do you get to see them much?”

“Oh, Harry Potter is such a thoughtful wizard. Thank you for asking about Dobby’s family. It is too sad a tale to tell right now and Harry Potter is very tired. Do rest. Dobby will bring more food tomorrow,” Dobby said as he vanished the remnants of their meal.

“Oh, then I guess we have that in common. I’m sorry,” Harry murmured as he stretched out on his sleeping shelf. “Thank you, Dobby. That was the best meal I’ve had in a long time.”

“Sleep well, Harry Potter. Dobby is glad you called.”

Chapter Text

“Dobby, it’s been nearly a week and even I can see that this is wearing you out. You’ve got to stop waiting on me, hand and foot. Please!” Harry said, exasperation threading his voice. 

“Dobby doesn’t understand. Harry Potter called Dobby! Harry Potter asked Dobby for food,” the little elf insisted. 

“I know! And I am so grateful for your help and the delicious food you brought,” Harry paused, wondering what he could say this time to convince Dobby. “It’s just… it makes me feel helpless when you do everything for me and I don’t like that.”

“Harry Potter doesn’t like Dobby helping him?” the elf wailed.

“Oh, no, Dobby. That’s not what I meant,” Harry backpedaled, locating the hunched figure by the sound of his distressed sobs. “Of course, I like your help. It’s just that… I need to be able to do things on my own, too. If I show up at Hogwarts in a few weeks and can’t even manage to tuck in my own serviette, Dean and Seamus are going to take the mickey out of me and that’s not even saying anything about what Malfoy will do.”

A warm breeze wafted across his face and Harry turned his head, following it. It had almost felt like the caress of a hand. Dobby’s sobs quieted to occasional hiccups and sniffles. 

“Dobby wanted Harry Potter to be safe and fed.”

“And Harry… I mean, I am. I am safe and fed. You have been a good friend…” Harry paused here because Dobby had started wailing again. “Dobby has taken good care of Harry Potter,” Harry ran his hand over Dobby’s shuddering back, trying to soothe him. “And Harry wants Dobby to also be well. Please, Dobby. You are too tired and working too hard.”

“Dobby is tired,” the elf said in a quiet voice and Harry sighed with relief even as the little elf started crying again… this time muttering about Harry’s immense kindness. After a bit, they came up with a plan…Harry promised to call Dobby if ever he had need, even the slightest discomfort, and the elf would send food twice a week. 

After that, Dobby seemed to be himself again. Constantly attending to Harry while also managing his job at the Center had been exhausting the little elf. Dobby would send a basket of food that would sustain Harry for a week (what with duplication and preservation charms) and then on Sunday evenings, the elf would join Harry for a hot meal that they would share together. 

Harry very much looked forward to those evenings and learned a lot about the progress of the Center (it was going to reopen at the beginning of September) as well as other news in the wixen world. He was also learning about house-elf life and culture. With sadness, he learned that Dobby’s freedom, while greatly desired, also came with a cost. He was ostracized and mistrusted among house elves. He ached to think that he caused Dobby to suffer the kind of loneliness and isolation he had felt most of his life… he hadn’t even asked Dobby if freedom was what he wanted. 

In this way, the weeks until the start of term passed. Though there were times when Harry felt alone and far away from his friends, he was able to overcome the feelings of isolation by practicing apparating—he didn’t venture far beyond the stone circle… he had to know the destination intimately before he could move to it… so his time on the surface was spent learning new areas he could apparate to. He’d pop to a spot that he already knew—the surface of a stone that he’d run his hands over until he could visualize it—and then explore the area around it until he could jump to it with just the memory of how the earth felt under his feet. There had to be something distinctive about it that set it apart from other areas so that it was firmly set in his mind’s-eye. Even though he knew that he had apparated from the Burrow to the Stone Circle, the thought of making such a leap again knowingly was unnerving. He settled his fears by working on the small jumps until he could do them without hesitation. 

Another way he was able to escape the pull of loneliness and misery was to write to his friends on his stone tablet. He was getting better at reading and writing braille as a result. With Ron, it was Quidditch updates and joking around… general silliness that made him crack up. He gathered from things Ron said that his frequent notes were the only thing that were keeping Mrs. Weasley from hunting him down herself… that and the assurances that he was getting plenty to eat. 

Gemma was the person he confided in the most… their conversations were continuous and so varied. Even Nio wanted to know what Gemma was saying and pestered Harry to keep him updated. He was glad for Nio’s presence, though, because even though he felt more surrounded by friends than he ever had in his life, he missed the contact… the touch of Gemma’s hands under his as they talked, the roughhousing with Ron and the twins, Mrs. Weasley’s embraces. 

Nio’s smooth scales sliding over and under his fingers and around his neck were a soothing comfort and the little snake was very content living underground with Harry. Hedwig, not so much. She would disappear for days. At first, Harry was worried that she’d been captured, but then she had returned with a note from Hagrid and a small beeswax-infused cloth bag of treacle fudge. It seemed that she preferred to roost in the owlery at Hogwarts to the circuitous tunnels of the underground labyrinth. 

Turned out that Dobby absolutely loved Hagrid’s treacle fudge… the stickier the better. Harry saved the beeswax bag as it was perfect for storing small amounts of food in his staff. 

Harry was looking forward to returning to Hogwarts. He was both excited and nervous about the trip to Diagon Alley the Weasley’s were planning to get his school things… especially after the disaster with the Ministry at the Burrow. But the memories of exploring Diagon Alley with Hagrid, the Weasleys, and Hermione were budging the anxiety over and he couldn’t stop fantasizing about a Fortescue's treacle tart sundae. 

[break]

“Dobby?” Harry asked, pretty sure that the elf was nearby. 

“Yes, Harry Potter?” 

Harry jumped in surprise, Dobby was a lot closer than he realized. 

“Oi! Er. I just was wondering if you know what day it is,” Harry turned toward the elf, who had been directly behind him. 

“Yes, it is Sunday the twenty-ninth of August,” Dobby announced. 

“Hmmm. I guess I should probably bathe today as we’re going to Diagon Alley tomorrow. You’re sure you are okay with apparating me there?”

“Yes, Harry Potter should bathe today. Dobby even brought soap and a towel,” the elf said as he rummaged around in the basket at his feet. A moment later, he touched Harry’s outstretched hand with a fuzzy bundle of towel. Harry felt around it and found a comb next to a bar of lavender-scented soap that put him in mind of the Center. 

“What? Right now?” Harry asked, tilting his head. 

“Harry Potter has been living in a muddy cave for nearly a month. Harry Potter might need two or three baths,” Dobby chortled as he pushed Harry toward the bathing pool.

“You can’t even see how dirty I am! I’m wearing the invisibility cloak!” Harry protested. 

“Dobby doesn’t sees dirt, Dobby smells it!”

Harry picked at the collar of the cloak and sniffed it. Maybe Dobby had a point. He wished he had thought of the bath yesterday when it had been much warmer and the cool waters would have been more of a relief. Shrugging, he followed the tunnel, feeling the rumble of water as it flowed under his feet and listening to the echoing pings and gently lapping of the water ahead in the pool. 

As he neared the pool, he flicked his staff out to help him find dressing alcove that he’d recently discovered in his explorations of the cave. He summoned clean clothes from his staff put them on the ledge, then undressed under the invisibility cloak. He set the towel, soap, and comb down close to the pool so that he could reach them and eased into the cool water, the cloak swirling around him with the current of the water.  The pool’s floor was silty under his toes. He held his breath and crouched down so that his head was submerged, floating until he couldn’t hold his breath any longer. He swam around a bit, remembering the strokes he’d learned at the Center and exploring the pool. Finally, he made his way back to where he’d left the bar of soap and lathered up, scrubbing the bubbles through his hair and trying his best to get all the dried mud off his feet and from between his toes. He also washed the invisibility cloak, which he had started to feel as if it were another layer of skin, so scrubbing it with soap was a strange sensation… like trying to hold onto water. 

When he clambered out of the pool and reached for his towel, he found Nio had coiled up next to the comb. The snake startled awake, protesting being dripped upon. 

“Oi, I didn’t know you were there!” Harry said, gently easing his fingers under the snake and lifting him up to hang around his neck while he towelled off and dressed. 

“Ouff. You’re stinky! You were just starting to smell like a snake,” Nio complained. 

“Ha! Well, Dobby said I was smelly and that I had to bathe before going to Diagon Alley tomorrow,” Harry laughed as he struggled to get a sock on without stepping in water. He hadn’t been wearing socks and shoes for a month and his feet missed the contact with the earth. He whipped the sock off and revelled in the feeling of the mud squishing between his toes. 

“Sod it. I’ll rinse my feet off tomorrow. No one’s going to see me anyway… I’ll be under the cloak… and wearing trainers.”

Harry relished the unique aromas of the tunnels as he walked back to rejoin Dobby for dinner, inhaling deeply and trying to commit them to memory. Though he felt separated from nearly everyone he loved down here, he also felt profoundly safe. A sudden breeze made his cloak wrap around his legs and torso for a moment, almost like an embrace. 

[break]

Harry wasn’t sure why he thought apparating to Diagon Alley with Dobby would be any easier than the first time when Dobby had jumped them both to the hospital wing right after the confrontation with Malfoy’s father. In anticipation of moving suddenly from the dark of the caves to the sunny streets of Diagon Alley, Harry had closed his eyes tight shut. His stomach roiled and he was glad that he had nibbled on the leftover roll from last night’s dinner, as Dobby recommended, before they left the sacred caves that morning. It would have been worse on an empty stomach. The cacophony of the bustling city around him was almost more than he could bear… and the feeling of being exposed, even though he knew he was hidden under his invisibility cloak. He took in deep, gulping breaths and tried to focus on the area immediately in front of him. After a second, he realized that he was steadying himself by pressing down on Dobby’s bald head, and apologized profusely to the little elf. 

“Dobby doesn’t mind, truly,” he said, tugging on Harry’s cloak and pulling him around to face another direction.

“Where are we?” Harry asked, wanting to flick out his staff and swing it in a small arc around his feet, but knowing that he couldn’t keep it hidden under his cloak as the cloak was tied to his ankles and wrists. 

“Just where Harry Potter asked to be…outside of Gringotts Wizarding Bank,” Dobby said sounding distracted. “Ah. Weazie is looking for Harry Potter but can’t sees him.” 

“Can he see you?” Harry asked, swiveling his head around to see if he could hear Ron or the other Weasleys, but he couldn’t pick out their voices in the din of the Alley. Beyond Diagon Alley, the rumble of muggle traffic roared in an undercurrent that made the earth shake beneath his feet. Moments before, he had been enveloped in the cool, quiet air of the caves, now he’d been set down in the midst of a sweltering throng. There were definitely more people here this morning than there had been on the day Hermione, Harry, and Mr. Granger had shopped for Harry’s adaptation tools. 

“House-elves aren’t to be seen,” Dobby said in a fierce squeak.

“They aren’t going to be able to find me,” Harry said, fiddling with the ties holding his cloak to his wrist. He was tempted to pull it off, but stopped himself, remembering the last time he took it off. 

He drew in a shaky breath. 

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea afterall, he thought.

“I should just … order my supplies by owl this year…” Harry said quietly. 

“Dobby will be right back.” The familiar crack of Dobby’s apparition rent the air next to Harry before he could protest. 

Resisting the urge to twist away, back to the silence of the caves, Harry reached out tentatively with his hand to feel the space around him. He guessed that there was a wall nearby by the way the noises of the alley were bouncing off it. He also felt the difference in temperature as he stepped closer to it and out of the warmth of the sun. He tried opening his eyes, but found it was still too bright to tolerate. He regretted leaving Nio in the caves, even though he knew that apparating was hard on the snake… he could have done with the reassuring squeeze of his smooth scales around his neck at this moment.

He stepped closer to where he thought the wall was and felt for it with his hand, relieved when he found it. He leaned against the cool marble while he listened to all the people passing nearby—their various footsteps giving him hints as to their age and if they came from wixen or muggle households. Those from muggle households were more likely to wear the less noisy trainers that he favored… but he noted that the sharp sounding heels of wixen boots were very much like the tip of his staff and helped him understand the surroundings by the way the sounds bounced off the walls and cobblestones. He wondered if they could be comfortable… he was so used to going without shoes that his feet were already protesting being bound up in his trainers.  

A flurry of squeaky, overly-excited voices of what could only be a group of first-year students interrupted his wixen-boot-reverie. They seemed to be debating which store to visit first—caldrons or wands. Then they were seemingly distracted by something… a store display? and their frenetic energy carried them into the alcove where he was hiding. He shrunk against the wall and tried to move quietly into the corner… but instead he knocked into something that made a terrible racket when he fell over it, making metal things bounce across the cobblestones.  

The firsties erupted into squalls and ran away, screaming of goblin poltergeists while their parents assured them that it was just a spooked Kneazle. 

“Harry, is that you?” Ron’s voice reached him over the racket. 

“You found me! And I was being so stealthy!” Harry said as his searching hands tried to identify what he’d knocked over. He sent something metal rolling away as his fingers brushed through a mess of feathers.

“About as stealthy as an erumpent in love. Where are you?”

Harry slumped back and then instantly regretted it as his head struck yet another metal thing… a caldron? It was too small and lightweight for a caldron.  

“Ow. That hurt. I’m right here,” Harry said, sticking his arm above him, waving it in the direction of Ron’s voice.

Ron made about as much noise trying to find Harry amidst the bowls as Harry had falling over them, but finally, their searching hands found one another. Harry’s flailing feet finally found firm earth and Ron hauled him up. 

“What did I trip over?” Harry asked as he stood up. 

“Oi! Just a display of quills. Oh, good. Mum’s on her way. She can help us set this to rights.” 

“Harry Potter’s been attacked!” Dobby cried out, before the crack of his apparition had faded. 

“Hush. No, no, not attacked… just clumsy. I feel over the display,” Harry said, sheepishly and gesturing in the direction of the mess, forgetting that no one could see him.

Dobby found him and was patting him around his knees and hips as if to assure himself that Harry was all right as he admonished himself for leaving Harry alone. 

“Oh, Harry, dear? Are you hurt? Where are you?” Mrs. Weasley fussed. 

“He’s right here, mum!” Ron said, impatiently. 

“I’m fine, Mrs. Weasley. Just had a blind moment.”

Ron snorted. 

“Ron, really! And, oh, Harry! I’ve been so worried about you!” she lamented as she pulled him into a fierce hug. Ron was still sniggering.

“I’m all right, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry assured, taking a step back and crushing a quill under his heel.

“Oh, I’d better get this restored before Mr. Ó Cuill comes out!” Mrs. Weasley said, turning away from Harry and starting to mutter charms that made a slight breeze pick up around them and the metal bowls start to clang against each other melodiously.

“Dobby has got to go, Harry Potter,” the elf insisted in an urgent whisper while tugging at the invisibility cloak. “Master is coming this way.”

“Master? Do you mean Malfoy?” Harry asked, alarmed, but instead of a response all he got was the shock of the elf’s magic through his knees… so close was Dobby when he vanished.

Harry drew in a breath and stood up straighter. He turned toward the noises of the street.

“Did Dobby just vanish?” Ron asked in a stage whisper.

“Yep—he said that Malfoy was coming.” 

“Ugh. I see the git,” Ron muttered and grasped Harry’s arm to pull him closer to the wall. 

Harry did his best not to stumble again, grabbing onto Ron’s shoulder to steady himself. 

“Aren’t I invisible?” Harry asked.

“I just don’t want to take any chances,” Ron said. “The git is with his git of a dad.”

Harry’s stomach clenched. 

Mrs. Weasley was now engaged in a conversation with the Quill shop owner, from the sound of it. Ron was hissing at her to quiet down, to no avail. Harry was thankful that Dobby was no longer here loudly stating his name… and on the other hand, wished that the elf was nearby to fling Malfoy away if he tried anything vicious again. 

“… can’t believe that disfigured girl is looking at Firebolts! She can’t even hear! Her hands were flying around. And did you see who her dad is? A squib!”

“Yes, it is inconceivable that their kind are being admitted to Hogwarts. I agree. And that’s why I’ve been urging you to consider Durmstrang. They at least have standards.”

“…but father! A Firebolt… a Firebolt is the best broom out there… even faster than the Nimbus 2001! The house cup would be ours for sure, if we all had Firebolts!” 

“I don’t know why you’re worrying about Quidditch… with Potter out of the game, you’ve nothing standing in your way,” Mr. Malfoy remarked drolly. 

Draco’s gleeful laugh in response brought all that Harry had been dreading about returning to Hogwarts back into painful focus.

Ron’s hand was still on Harry’s arm and he was squeezing it painfully. Harry shook it a bit and Ron muttered a soft, “sorry, mate.”

The Malfoys continued to argue about brooms as they ascended the steps to Gringotts and Ron let out a sigh of relief, while Harry was contemplating taking out his staff to take him to Gemma. 

She had to be close by. 

“Wait—Where are you going?” Ron asked as Harry stepped away. “You can’t just take off on your own, mate. Sirius Black, remember? Also, how are we going to find you again?” 

“Right. Sorry. Just… I think Gemma’s nearby.”

Ron groaned. “She won’t be able to see you, mate. Just wait until we’re back at Hogwarts… and you don’t have to wear the cloak anymore. You know that the Ministry is putting us all up at the Leaky Caldron tonight and tomorrow… until we take the train back to Hogwarts, right?”

“What? But I’ve got to get Nio and Hedwig!” Harry started. “And I don’t know. What do you mean the Ministry is putting us up?” 

“That’s what Dad said. They want to make sure you’re safe. Black is still at large and was actually sighted in London yesterday.”

“They didn’t catch him yet?” Harry asked. 

“Nope. Slippery fink,” Ron said, heavily. 

Harry heard Mrs. Weasley trying to pay the Quill shop owner for the crushed quills and started forward, then remembered that he was invisible. 

He grabbed onto Ron, “You can’t let your mum pay for the quills… here, give her this.” Harry had dug into his pocket for the spare galleons he had and forced them into Ron’s palm, then pushed him toward her voice, even as Ron protested. 

“Not to worry, not to worry. I’ve already repaired them… no harm, no foul,” the shop owner was insisting. 

Mrs. Weasley thanked Mr. Ó Cuill again, then Harry heard her hard-soled boots approaching them. 

“Come along, dears,” she said. Ron started walking away from Harry and this time Harry let out a yelp, thinking he was being left behind again. 

“Whoops! Sorry, mate. Where are you?” Ron asked. 

“Right here,” Harry said. 

Ron groped around for Harry’s hand and then shoved the coins back into it. Harry put them in his pocket and then followed Ron’s hand up to his elbow and dropped behind Ron as they walked down the street. He wished he could hold his staff in his other hand, using it under his cloak to make sure that Ron didn’t run him into anything.

“You remember how to do this, right?” Harry asked. 

“No light posts or rubbish bins in Diagon Alley!” Ron said triumphantly. 

Harry groaned, and rubbed his elbow which was still sore from tripping over the quill display. 

“Where’s everyone else?” Harry asked. 

“At Flourish and Blotts. We’ll meet them there,” Ron said as he maneuvered Harry to walk in the gap between his mom and himself, though a little behind them. Harry found a loose bit of fabric from Mrs. Weasley’s outfit to hang onto so that he didn’t bump into her too much. They were emerging from the alcove created by the stairs to Gringotts and into the bustle of wixen in the street.

A heady aroma enveloped them and Harry coughed. 

“What’s that?” he asked. 

“What’s what?” Ron responded in a loud whisper.

“That smell. It’s powerful—like tomatoes,” Harry said. 

“Oh, we’re passing the florist—she’s put out bouquets of aconite! Careful, Ron, don’t touch them. Deadly poison,” Mrs. Weasley explained. “Why in Morgana’s good graces would Sovann put out bouquets of aconite when the streets are this packed!? Sometimes I think that witch is…” she stopped midsentence as they slowed to a stop. 

“Ah, yes, this way, boys!” Mrs. Weasley announced and started forward again. Just in time, Harry realized that they had reached the end of the pavement and there must be a kerb. He pulled back on Ron’s arm and felt forward with his toe to find the step, wishing for his staff to give him a hint as to how deep it was. As it was, he just had to put his other foot out there and free fall for a moment until he was jarred by the contact with the street. 

On the other side of the street, Mrs. Weasley’s fabric between his fingers moved up when she stepped up onto the pavement and Harry stuck his toe out again to find the kerb. 

“Hey, Ron. Can you warn me about steps up or down?” Harry asked, as they were buffeted on all sides by hordes of people.

“Oh, right. Sorry, mate,” Ron apologized. “We’re here, and going through the door. No steps.”

“All right, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley addressed them once they were inside and had moved out of the entrance down an aisle of shelves (Ron was crowded in next to Harry and Mrs. Weasley was leading the way). “Let’s see your list of required textbooks. Oh. My.”

“What is it?” Harry asked, mid-summoning the list from his staff that Hedwig had delivered earlier in the summer.

“How are you going to read them?” she sounded alarmed. 

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Weasley. I’ve got a few ways to read… my anagnóstis is the best way—reads text to me—and I’m also learning braille… though I don’t suppose any of my textbooks are printed in braille,” Harry mused. 

“Oh, well, that’s a relief,” Mrs. Weasley sighed. 

“Really, mum,” Ron complained. 

Harry held his list out from underneath the invisibility cloak and Mrs. Weasley and Ron read through it. 

“Oi, I thought Professor McGonagall said you were taking Divination with me!” Ron protested. 

“I changed my schedule this summer… its too visual. And I met the Divination professor,” Harry let his tone convey what he thought of Professor Trewlaney. 

“So, Ancient Runes with Hermione? Really?” Ron said heavily. 

“We’ll still be in loads of other classes together,” Harry nudged Ron’s shoulder. 

“Who are you talking to, Ron?” Seamus asked, from the other side of the bookshelf.

“Er. Myself, just talking to myself,” Ron said awkwardly, straightening quickly and taking a step away from Harry. “Just trying to figure out what books I need.” 

“It sounded like Harry was there… You haven’t seen him, have you? Is he going to be at Hogwarts?” Seamus asked. “Is he really blind?”

Harry swallowed a protesting yelp and held his lips tight together to prevent anything else from escaping them. 

“Really, Seamus?” Ron asked. “Of course, he’s going to be at Hogwarts. As if.”

“I found the Potions textbooks you both need,” Mrs. Weasley said as she came back down the aisle toward them. “Ron, did you get Harry’s Ancient Runes textbook?”

“Aha! I thought Harry was with you!” Seamus hooted with delight. 

“Shush! Seamus!” Ron admonished. 

“Mum, mum!” Ginny came running toward them. “That Auror is looking for you. She said it was urgent!”

Chapter Text

“But really, Ron, he didn’t get sorted out at St. Mungos? Did you see that article in the Prophet?” Seamus continued to pepper Ron with questions through the gap in the books between aisles at Flourish and Blotts. 

“Mum, this way! Come on!” Ginny urged. 

“Ron and Ha-, Er, you better come with me, too,” Mrs. Weasley said, breathlessly and following Ginny out of the aisles. 

Harry managed to get ahold of Ron’s robes…he nearly left Harry alone… and followed them through the store. 

“But you’ve got to tell me? Is it true that he killed a Basilisk?” Seamus was heard shouting over the hubbub in the shop. 

Curiosity was the only thing keeping Harry tethered to Ron and not jumping back to his cave… that and his desire to see Gemma again… and Hermione and Neville. 

In the hubbub, Harry had lost his orientation in the shop, so when they stepped out onto the street suddenly, it was a shock to Harry. He hadn’t heard the door opening and closing, letting in the sounds of the street in sudden bursts. 

Ron seemed to remember that he was supposed to be guiding Harry and stopped just over the threshold to find Harry’s hand and put it on his arm, muttering that he was sorry. Harry had to push down feelings of resentment and anger that he was reliant on Ron to remember him. While his invisibility cloak had been a comfort and a constant companion through this whole ordeal—shielding him from everyone who was trying to hunt him down—right now it felt fettering. He itched to take it off at the same time the thought made his skin crawl. 

Mrs. Weasley had found the Auror and they were talking in hushed tones as their wixen boots struck sharply on the cobblestones leading the way through the throngs. Ron and Harry were hurrying to keep up with them. Harry was buffeted by people pushing past Ron in a hurry until Ginny grabbed his hand through the invisibility cloak (he wasn’t sure how she found it) and protected him from the other side. Finally, the two women turned into a quiet side alley and the three children huddled together by a damp brick wall, their shoes slightly submerged in a dank puddle of water. Nearby, there was a steady dripping. 

Harry couldn’t hear Mrs. Weasley and Auror Bones talking anymore and guessed that they had put up some kind of sound shield. 

“Ginny, do you know what’s going on?” Harry whispered. 

“Just that Auror Bones needed to speak to mum urgently. They didn’t mind us following… in fact, they kept checking to make sure we were close behind them. But now they’ve put up a silencing charm… so I have no idea,” Ginny huffed. 

“I’m pretty sure I heard them say something about Sirius Black,” Ron muttered darkly. 

Harry slumped more into the brick wall, the invisibility cloak protected him from getting damp. 

There was a pop and Harry could hear the wixen boots on the cobblestone again… approaching them. Both Ginny and Ron turned toward the noise as well and Harry stood away from the wall, attentive. 

“Is Harry here with you?” Auror Bones asked quietly. Mrs. Weasley had stepped behind her quietly and Harry heard the sounds of the street being cut off as a silencing charm settled around the five of them. 

“Yes, ma’am. I’m here,” Harry said. 

“Harry. We were hoping to avoid this, but I’m afraid we have to inform you that a large black dog has been spotted by several sources near Diagon Alley. Though we haven’t been able to verify it, we think it is Sirius Black. He was not captured, though both magical and muggle officers of the law are pursuing him. The dog is chasing something small through London—a cat or a rat—reports vary. He’s very frenzied—like a rabid animal.”

Ron started at the word “rat” and grabbed onto Harry.

“Though the Ministry wants to take you into custody for your safety, I think, and Molly agrees, that you’ll be safer in the cave where you’ve been able to hide this summer until Hogwarts begins. And somehow you’ve taught yourself how to apparate? Can you get back there now?”

“But I haven’t even seen Gemma… and Hermione and Neville yet!” Harry moaned. 

Ron snorted and muttered, “likely story” under his breath. Harry was getting sick of that joke and pulled his arm from Ron’s grasp.

“You’ll be back at Hogwarts in two days… ah, yes, we do need to figure out how you’re going to get there. I don’t think it is wise for you to take the Hogwarts Express,” Auror Bones said grimly.

“What? No! Can’t I just start the new term like everyone else? It’s bad enough that I have all this going on now!” Harry said, motioning to his eyes.

“Harry, you don’t know how hard it has been to convince the Minister and others that you are safest at Hogwarts. They are really pushing to have you…” she trailed off. 

“Have me what?”

“They want to study you. Keep you in the DOM,” Auror Bones said solemnly.

“Gah! Why can’t I just live my life? Why does everyone want to meddle with it?” Harry groaned. 

Mrs. Weasley stepped closer, fumbled for a bit trying to find him, and pulled him into a hug. She had been so silent during this whole exchange and Harry now understood as her tears dripped into his hair.

“Oh, Harry. Would that we could protect you from all of this. You’re absolutely right. It isn’t fair,” she sniffled. “And there is an immediate threat that we need to deal with.” 

Mrs. Weasley let go of him and blew her nose, seeming to get ahold of herself. 

“All right. Harry, you have your tablet?” Mrs. Weasley asked, the tears barely a trace in her voice. 

“Yes,” he answered.

“You should apparate back to your cave. I’ve got your list. I’ll get the rest of your supplies. I know. It is no fun and not what we planned. We’ll send you messages and figure out how to get you safely on the Hogwarts Express…” she paused here as Auror Bones made a disagreeing grunt. “We’ll get you on the Hogwarts Express… with your friends who you are missing and try to get this term off to as normal a start as we can.”

Harry shook out his staff while she was talking and summoned the velveteen bag that held his galleons. It had a nice weight in his hand. Mrs. Weasley had grabbed onto his shoulders for her bold declaration and so it wasn’t hard to find her hand and press the bag into it. Before she could protest, he twisted away from her and apparated away. 

Instead of landing in the cool, earthen womb of the caves, Harry had remembered the sounds and feelings of the spot where Dobby had first taken him in Diagon Alley… near the quill shop, in the shadow of Gringotts. Even though the sounds and the feeling of the pavement under his feet made him confident that he’d landed where he wanted, he reached out a tentative hand to confirm that the cart with the quill display was where he thought it was. He nearly upset another vase of quills, but managed to steady it before it toppled over. 

He undid the ties holding the cloak to his right hand so that he could use the staff under his cloak… limited though the range of motion was… and navigated to the cool wall. He summoned the tablet out of his staff and sent a message to Gemma, hoping that she’d be able to find him and come quickly. 

He had thought about grabbing onto Ron when he was apparating away… but he didn’t know if he manage side-along apparition and didn’t want to risk it. Also, it would alert Auror Bones and Mrs. Weasley to his plan. They needed to think that he had followed orders and gone back to his cave.  

He was working on a message to Ron when a message came through, and as he read it, he sighed in relief that he hadn’t yet finished his note to Ron. 

“This is Auror Bones, using Ron Weasley’s tablet. Did you reach your destination safely?”

Harry quickly erased the message he had been writing to Ron and wrote, “Yes. I’m safe.” His messages were always as brief as he could make them… braille was still so slow for him. 

He figured it wasn’t really a lie. He felt safer now than he had when they were in the alley… with the threat of being imprisoned in the Department of Mysteries with that git Croaker who wanted to get his bony hands on him… do experiments and who knows what else. 

How is Gemma going to find me? How am I going to talk to her?

He slouched against the cool wall and stuck his staff out a little ways, hoping that the silver tip was slightly visible… just to someone observant who was looking for it.

It took a little while for his heart to stop racing waiting for Gemma to find him. He held his tablet in one hand, his staff in the other and tried to just take in deep breaths and listen to the sounds of people walking past or up the stairs to Gringotts. He wondered if Malfoy and his dad had left the bank yet. Maybe they were doing more than just making a withdrawal. He hoped he hadn’t inadvertently drawn Gemma into their path again. Especially if she had come on her own as he urged. 

His tablet vibrated in his hand and he ran his fingers over the raised dots to read the message. He was just on the verge of pulling his anagnóstis out of his staff to read it faster when he finally figured the first bit out. 

Ron had his tablet back and was wondering if Harry had really returned to the caves. He needed something. Harry was trying to decipher the message (Ron must have been in a hurry… it didn’t make any sense) when he heard someone coming near. He froze, listening carefully… wondering if he should pull his staff under his cloak or stick it out further? 

Harry held his breath as someone made the quills in the metal vases rustle and tinkle. He pulled his staff closer to his body slowly, hoping the movement didn’t draw attention to it. 

After a bit, the noises stopped and then they left, their footsteps sounding on the pavement as they moved away. Harry breathed in again and moved his staff back out a bit, hoping that when Gemma did come (if she came?) that she’d notice it. He tucked it into the crook of his arm and tried reading the note from Ron again and then just gave up and sent a question mark back to Ron. 

Ron sent back a one-word response, “Scabbers!” and finally Harry was able to decipher the original message. Ron was worried that the big black dog was after Scabbers! 

Harry thought about what he’d do if he thought Nio or Hedwig were being pursued by something so big and determined. He shuddered and the silver tip of his staff tinged against the stones. 

Harry tugged at his collar… it was so hot here on the surface. He had acclimated to his underground sanctuary. The sounds around him felt like they were closing in… adding to his feeling of suffocation. He had to unclench his jaw, wiggle it, and take in a slow deep breath, then focus on writing back to Ron. 

“Find me. Quills.” 

A few other people had wandered over to look through the quills. 

“Have you tried this nib before?” a youngish-sounding woman was asking. 

“Oh, I don’t like those… too fine. They wear out so fast. I like a squared-off nib, personally…” an older woman responded. “Here try this one, it has that continuously inking charm that I like so much. No need to fuss with bottles.”

“Have you tried that moonlight ink that Vic Yarrow developed?” 

“Haven’t heard of it. What? Only visible by the moon?”

“Yes, and so luminescent that it attracts GCBs. Written correctly, and they might even give you strands of their hair!” This seemed to really please the older woman and they wandered off, still chatting about the moon inks and the uses of fairy hair when Harry heard something nearer to him that made him start. 

Someone had snapped their fingers near him. 

“Gemma?” he whispered and then remembered. Right, can’t hear me.

He moved the tip of his staff out a little farther, hoping it was visible. 

Another snap sounded closer. 

Harry moved his hand holding the staff out from the folds of the cloak and Gemma rushed forward, catching his hand and waving across it with uninhibited glee. Harry moved his other hand over hers, trying to understand what she was saying. 

He wanted to throw off the cloak even more now… though he also was worried that someone would notice her… doing what? Signing into a disembodied hand? Still the noises from the street had continued on without pausing. 

He had no idea what she was trying to tell him and he could tell that she was getting more frustrated. Finally, pulled the tablet from under his arm where he had stuck it when he heard the first snap and held it out to her to see, then pulled it back under the cloak and stepped back to find the wall again, put away his staff and sat down. It took him a moment to adjust the cloak so that he had enough room underneath to write on the tablet, then he worked on sending her a message. She settled down next to him, snug against his side. He heard her rummaging around in a bag. 

“Sorry!” he wrote.

“For what?” she responded quickly.

“Keep cloak on.”

“I understand. It keeps you safe.”

“Hard to talk.”

“Yes, it always is for us. Isn’t it?”

He reached out and tapped her knee twice through the cloak… their original sign for yes, before he’d learned how to sign properly.

“I see your friend Ron! He’s coming this way.”

Harry waved against her knee, trying to convey his relief but realized that he’d probably communicated more trepidation than he meant when his tablet vibrated with a new message.

He ran his fingers over the raised dots. “What is it?”

“Need to find Ron’s rat,” Harry wrote out as Ron’s heavy footsteps clattered on the pavement near them. He could feel Gemma gesturing to Ron and Ron sat down on his other side. 

“Harry?” Ron asked.

“Yes, I’m here. Do you remember the charm that writes out your words on a slip of paper for Gemma?” Harry asked. 

“Oh, right,” Ron said and then muttered the spell. His next words were followed by the tattletale fluttering of paper.  “Why haven’t you done it, mate?”

“It would be a dead giveaway, wouldn’t it?” Harry sighed as Gemma jostled his knee. “Tell Gemma what I’m saying. She hates to be left out.”

Ron repeated their conversation grudgingly and then launched into a plea to find Scabbers. 

“How are we going to do that?” Harry asked and then nudged Ron to remind him to repeat his words for Gemma. 

“Scabbers is my pet rat. That big dog… Sirius Black…  is hunting him, streets from here, right now,” Ron explained to Gemma. 

“Beats me,” Ron answered a question that Gemma asked. Harry nudged Ron. 

“Er, right. She wonders why they aren’t here in Diagon Alley.”

Ron jostled him and then was lumbering off before Harry understood what was happening. He turned his questioning face to Gemma, forgetting that she couldn’t see him. She had her hand on his shoulder and was pushing him forward and then drawing on his back. He was confused at first and then realized that she was signing on his back… mapping out where Ron had gone and that he was coming back with two more people. He turned so that she could reach more of his back after tapping on her knee again, letting her know that he understood. 

Two more people? Won’t that attract attention? Harry wondered, but then remembered that they were in Diagon Alley… there were groups of people everywhere today since it was nearly the start of term and there were school supplies that had to be purchased. 

Gemma had found his hand and was fingerspelling names… Ginny and Hermione. Then she wrote on his back again with her finger… more people were coming. Fred and George this time. And then one last person arrived… Neville. 

Gemma pulled on his arm, telling him to stand up as they all neared. 

“Where’s Harry?” Fred asked. “I thought you said he’d be here with Gemma?”

Harry heard the slip of paper when he spoke and was glad that he remembered the charm. Maybe Ron reminded them all?

“He’s standing next to Gemma,” Hermione officiously stated. She sounded a bit out of breath. 

Soon he was surrounded by the lot of them. Gemma was signing into his hand with the cloak still draped over it. Her excitement buzzing through her fingers. Ginny was hanging onto his other arm. Fred and George were cracking jokes about Operation Pick Scabby. 

“Hiya, Harry,” Neville said quietly. “You all right?”

“Sure, Neville,” Harry said. “I’m all right. How about you?”

“Oh, Harry, you’ve got to talk Ron out of this… we don’t even have a plan!” Hermione moaned. 

“Out of what?” Harry asked, turning toward Hermione, and attempting to sign what he was saying to Gemma. Gemma tapped impatiently on his wrist. He drew a question mark on her hand. 

Gemma tapped again, a little more forcefully and Harry took a deep breath and then focused on signing as best he could given his limited fluency in BSL under Gemma’s cupped hands. 

“Harry, did you hear anything we said?” Hermione asked. 

“Just a sec, Hermione. I’m trying to fill Gemma in. You all have cast the writing spell, right?” there were a chorus of responses and some of them cast the spell just then.

They were all huddled around Harry and Gemma in a tight circle. 

“So what’s going on?” Harry asked, while making the simple sign under Gemma’s hands. 

They all started speaking at once. Harry got fragments of the story from each of them, but not enough to be coherent. 

“Hush, everyone,” Hermione insisted. “One at a time. Ron, you go first. You’re the one who said you needed our help.”

“So, yeah. That beast is after Scabbers. I’m certain of it. He disappeared at the same time we heard he was headed toward the Burrow. And now a giant black dog is chasing a rat all over London… and both magical and muggle aurors are trying to capture it? It can’t be a coincidence!” Ron was emphatic. 

“But why would Sirius Black want the rat? That doesn’t make any sense. I thought he was after Harry?” George said. 

Gemma’s hand fluttered under Harry’s palm—consternation—he determined. He remembered her read on the big black dog when they encountered it in the alley outside of the Center. She had thought it wasn’t going to attack them… she thought it looked sad. 

“Right. It doesn’t make sense… but that’s what’s happening and we’ve got to save Scabbers… maybe the Death Eater wants to use Scabbers to get to Harry? I mean, we share a room at Hogwarts, right?” Ron said, sounding a bit desperate. 

“But we’d be putting Harry in his path if we go out into London looking for them. That doesn’t make any sense!” Hermione insisted. 

“But we’ve got this!” Ron said. 

“What is it?” Harry asked. 

“The flute! And I think I know how to use it. I’ve been practising. Got the Gernumblies to relocate themselves,” Ron said. 

“That was pretty epic,” Fred said, patting Ron on the back energetically. 

“Saved us hours of gnome tossing,” George contributed. 

“And bites. Not one of us was bitten,” Ginny piped in.

Gemma was gesturing emphatically and the others were groaning.  

“Gemma’s telling the Weasleys off for their treatment of the Gernumblies,” Neville whispered to Harry with a laugh. 

“Harry, could you take your invisibility cloak off your head at least? We can make sure no one sees you. It’s just so hard to have conversations with you without being able to see your facial expressions,” Hermione asked. 

“No kidding,” Harry sighed, and pushed the hood back a bit, hoping that it revealed his face, but kept the back of his head hidden. “How’s that?”

“Better,” Hermione said, while Gemma seized him in a tight side hug. 

Harry cast the spell that wrote out his words on slips of paper for Gemma to read and she signed her thanks across his back. 

“So, are we going to save Scabbers, or what?” Harry asked.

Chapter Text

“No, Harry. We’re not. We are not going to risk… well… everything to find a rat!” Hermione said tremulously, over Ron’s howling protest. 

“It’s not just any rat, it is Scabbers. And he could already be dead!” Ron cried out, his voice breaking in distress. 

“Oh, Ron. I’m sorry,” Hermione hiccuped. “I just don’t know.”

Gemma was gesturing next to him and Harry waited for someone to tell him what she said, but George was already speaking.

“Listen, if we’re going to do this, we’ve got to go now. Mum and the Aurors are already on high alert. I say we go out there, lure the rat with the flute… and hide it. I think under Harry’s cloak is the best bet. Maybe in your staff? I mean, no one has been able to track you under that thing… not the Ministry, not Hogwarts, not even that Death Eater.” 

Gemma was signing emphatically again and the others were making agreeing noises. 

“Can someone tell me what Gemma’s saying, please?” Harry asked.

“Yeah… I’m going to play a tune that I whistled a lot to Scabbers… before I had the flute. He seemed to like it,” Ron said. 

“Harry, don’t you have Hedwig’s cage in your staff? Wouldn’t that work for keeping Scabbers safe from the dog?” Ginny asked. 

“Yes, but…” Harry said and was cut off.

“And then, once Harry has the rat, he apparates back to the cave where he’s been hiding,” Hermione added grudgingly. “I still don’t like it. Won’t it mean that the dog will be after Scabbers and Harry?” 

“But what is Gemma saying?” Harry asked again, his throat tight with frustration. Gemma pat his back reassuringly… letting him know her part of the conversation with simple gestures and he relaxed. She would tell him directly if she had something to say that he had to know… even if his friends couldn’t be bothered to keep him in the loop. He blew out a frustrated breath. At least Gemma understood.

“But they’ll both be hidden. Everyone’s been searching for Harry for months, but they can’t track him at all… and he’s been doing all sorts of magic… that’s supposed to alert the Ministry… underage magic traces and all that!” Neville said. “My Grandmother said that it is unheard of.”

“I wish we could all go with you…” Ginny said glumly. “But we can’t all fit under the cloak all the time and they might find you by looking for us.” 

Ron moaned. 

“It’s just for a day, right?” Harry said, putting on a brave face. “Then I’ll meet you all at King’s Cross station and I can give you Scabbers, Ron… he’ll be safe at Hogwarts.”

“It’s a solid plan,” Fred said. 

“I don’t know what could go wrong,” piped in George. 

“Come on. Let’s go,” Ron said breaking out of the circle. 

Gemma slipped under the cloak with Harry as he pulled the hood back over his face. 

“Can you read the slips of paper in here?” Harry asked her. 

She grabbed at the fluttering slip and nodded, her head under his arm. She had slipped her arm around his waist and had started guiding him, following the sound of the others as they made their way onto the pavement. 

Ginny had a hold of his elbow through the cloak on his other side. Behind him, he could hear Neville and Hermione talking quietly. They were keeping really close behind him and Gemma and he realized that they were creating a bit of a buffer, so no one walked into them. 

Ahead, Ron, Fred, and George were quickly outpacing them, hurrying on to the egress that led to Charing Cross Road. 

“Let’s head to the alley… the apparition point… by the Center,” Harry suggested. Gemma grabbed the paper by his lips.

“All right,” Ginny said. “Though I don’t know where the others are headed.”

Gemma signed to hurry up on Harry’s arm and he tried to quicken his pace, realizing that they must be losing sight of the boys. 

Hermione huffed behind them, “this isn’t going to work if we lose them! They’re not even checking to see if we’re keeping up.”

They were now almost running and Harry was tripping along the uneven paving stones, relying on both Ginny and Gemma to keep him from falling down altogether. 

There was the tingle of passing through the Egress and then the cacophony of London exploded around them. Harry flinched and Gemma asked him why… but then signed her understanding. He guessed she could feel the rumble of the city, even if she couldn’t hear it. It made him wonder where Diagon Alley really was… if it wasn’t just tucked away inside of London. 

“Can you see them?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, they remembered us finally and are waiting,” Ginny said, a bit out of breath. 

The noises of London as well as the odors were engulfing Harry… he had just started adjusting to the press of people and all their accompanying chaos in Diagon Alley and now he had crossed over into an environment that was exponentially louder, odoriferous, and full of moving people and vehicles. A sputtering motorbike that seemed to be running them down had him pulling his companions away from the street despite their confused protests. 

Gemma was trying to reassure him… she at least could probably see the panic etched on his face. The others were just trying to keep up with Fred, George, and Ron, and had no idea why they were being buffeted and dragged by the invisible bundle in their midst. 

“What is going on!” Hermione interjected. Harry’s foot had just landed on someone’s toes rather sharply (Hermione’s by the annoyance in her voice). 

“Sorry, just that motorbike. It was coming right at us!” Harry said. 

“It was in the street, Harry!” Neville exclaimed. 

“Just trust us, we’re not going to let you get run over,” Ginny said, tugging him, and consequently, Gemma back in the direction they had been headed. 

Hermione was grousing about the twins and Ron just taking off again and Neville was encouraging them all to keep up when Harry finally got his breath under control and allowed himself to be guided closer to the sound of rumbling engines and squealing brakes. Gemma’s grip on his arm was firm and reassuring. 

They were moving quickly now. Harry was doing his best to not trod on Ginny or Gemma, though it was tough as they kept swerving and changing direction quickly. Muttered exclamations from passersby or the gagging putrescence of overflowing rubbish bins were the only clues Harry had as to why they were on such an obstacle course. 

“In here!” A hoarsely whispered shout made them stop suddenly and Harry’s momentum nearly carried him out of Ginny’s grasp. Luckily, Gemma also had a hold of him and helped right himself. Then Neville ran into them from the back and they ended up in a heap anyway. It took a moment to get sorted out and by then there were so many hands grabbing at him, pulling him this way and that, that Harry had to tell them to knock it off and let him get up on his own. 

“Shouldn’t you kids be in school?” An older woman asked disdainfully. 

“Term starts tomorrow,” Hermione answered breathlessly. “We’re just shopping for some last-minute items. Oh, there’s mum now!” 

Harry was impressed with Hermione’s poise as the woman’s heeled shoes clattered away from them and melted into the hubbub of the street. He was glad the invisibility cloak was still mostly tied to him. Gemma helped him adjust it as they stood back up. Neville and Ginny had stepped in close when the woman approached them, and were both gently guiding them into a cool space that cut off the clangorous street noises. Harry gathered that it was a very narrow alleyway by the way everyone was crowded together. 

“What’s taking you so long?” Ron hissed. “Make tracks! Fred and George think they saw something up ahead.”

Hermione huffed in response and they hurried through the dark narrow passage until they spilled out into a sun-filled area that was eerily quiet, even as the city rumbled beneath their feet. 

“You lot! Crouch down over here,” one of the twins whispered. Ginny hunched down, pulling Harry with her.  

“What’s going on?” Harry asked. He was surrounded on all sides by his friends. Knees and elbows were jabbing into him as everyone tried to squeeze into the small space; their discomfort expressed in small groans and stifled yelps. Harry’s forehead bumped against something wooden and leaves and sticks crunched under his feet. Gemma struggled under the cloak, pulling the fabric this way and that as they managed their crouched position, panting with exertion. He could hear small branches being broken as the others moved around, trying to hide in what had to be a small hedgerow, maybe behind a bench. He reached out a tentative hand to feel the wood his head had struck and found the parallel slats that confirmed his hypothesis. 

“Ron, you got your flute?” George asked quietly. 

“Won’t that give us away? Why are we hiding then?” Hermione asked. 

“Might be more of them,” Ron said, breathily. 

“Oh, right,” Neville said in a small voice. 

“More of who?” Harry asked. 

Gemma caught the slip of paper fluttering in front of Harry’s lips and drew running fingers across his forearm, then pulled two fingers across his wrist. 

“Police?” he asked her. 

“Yes. Aurors. They just ran through here,” Ginny supplied. “Chasing the dog.” 

“But we didn’t see Scabbers,” Ron said. “It might be he’s still here.”

“I doubt it. I imagine he’s hightailed it to the sewers,” Fred said. 

“Go on, Ron. Try the flute,” George urged. 

“Then when nothing happens, we’ll head back before anyone notices we’re all gone!” Hermione muttered. 

“Have faith, Hermione,” Fred chided. 

“Here goes nothing,” Ron sighed and then a plaintive melody stuttered and swelled to fill the space. 

The hair rose on Harry’s arms and the back of his neck. He could feel the longing and sorrow in the tune that Ron felt for his lost pet. For as much as he complained about the rat, he needed him and missed him. A sharp ache for Nio and Hedwig suffused him and the niggling doubt that he’d been harbouring about this mission evaporated. He gritted his teeth, listening as hard as he could for any hint of movement through the courtyard where they were huddled. 

Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, listening to the ethereal whistling reverberate off the surrounding walls. There were slight shuffles in the leaves beneath their feet as they adjusted their positions, trying to relieve aching limbs without making noise. 

It seemed like an eternity of waiting, the notes of Ron’s silvery tune rising and falling, folding back on itself as the music hit the walls and doubled back until Harry felt a tremor under his feet and Gemma squeezed his arm, acknowledging that she also felt it. 

“What the…?” George muttered while Ginny drew in a sharp gasp. 

The tremor was accompanied by a slight scritching noise that grew louder. Piercing squeaks punctuated the rumble. 

Ron’s sibilant tune faltered for a moment and then redoubled after he inhaled shakily.

Tinging metal, scrabbling, shrill squeaks all underscored by the trembling earth steadily grew nearer, louder and then erupted nearby as the bodies pressed against Harry shuddered and scrambled to rise, to move out of the way of the onslaught. 

“They are coming right at us!” Hermione shouted, too near Harry’s ear. 

“What is it?” Harry yelled in response.

Not waiting for a reply—he had his suspicions—Harry flicked out his wand and threw up a bubble shield, imagining the protection extending over all of his friends huddled there. Someone else must have done the same thing as he felt a magical surge collide into his wand and through his arm. 

Gemma withdrew her hand suddenly as if she’s been shocked. 

“Sorry,” he muttered. 

He had to hold his wand with both hands to regain control of the shield that wavered under the impact with the other shield. 

They were now all huddled together, standing close. The shields had pushed the bench and the bushes away from them. Ron had stopped playing the flute as the wave of rats surged around them. 

Harry didn’t need to see it to understand what was happening. The flute had worked… but it didn’t just call one rat from the sewers… it called all of London’s rats. 

“Wait, wait!” Ron called in a half-sob. “Scabbers! I’m here! Does anyone see him?” 

Beyond the walls of the courtyard, there was a sudden squall of honking autos, squealing brakes, and people shouting as the rats flooded out of the alleyway and onto Charing Cross Road.

“There’s so many and they are so fast,” Neville said, shaken. 

“Did you see any yellow? He’s been a bit yellow… ever since first year,” Ron exclaimed, turning as he spoke. 

“There’s no way to pick out one rat from that hoard,” was Ginny’s stunned reply. 

The squeaking, scratching, and rumbling had slowed, but Harry wasn’t ready to dismiss his shield just yet. It sounded like still more were emerging from the sewer opening.

“Well, Ron, I think it’s time you dressed the part!” Fred said, heartily slapping Ron’s back… so much so that Ron cried out in pain. 

“Oh, Fred. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” George said, conspiratorially. 

“Don’t you know it!” Fred crowed. 

“Oi! Give it a rest, you two. Leave me be!” Ron hollered. “Come on, he had to be in that hoard!”

“It’ll just take a sec,” George cajoled.

“Hang on, little brother,” Fred said and there was a pop of magic and a scuffle. 

Harry ended the shield charm, not wanting to get trampled and the group moved apart. Ron was running after the stampede of rats with his brothers close on his heels. Gemma slipped her arm around Harry’s waist and turned him away from the departing footsteps, while also signing on his arm the direction she wanted to go. He brushed away branches from his face and his leg brushed against the bench. 

Gemma was guiding him to the hole where the rats had emerged. He guessed that she saw something there that was worth investigating. 

“Where are you headed?” Ginny asked as Harry moved out of her grasp. 

“What? Where’s Harry?” Hermione asked. 

“He and Gemma are going this way,” Ginny said. 

“But we’re going to lose sight of Ron!” Neville protested. 

“Gemma sees something,” Harry said and listened as the others fell in step behind them. 

“Oh, I see it, too,” Ginny said. “Scabbers! Come here!”

Gemma pulled Harry down on the damp earth and she had let go of him and was leaning forward, peering into something. He reached out a hand and found her back. She sat back up and signed Ron’s name on his hand and then touched the side of his nose with a twisting finger. 

“Ron’s rat?” he confirmed.

“Yes,” she said and turned back to the hole. 

“Scabbers, we’ll keep you safe!” Hermione whispered from the other side of Gemma. 

“We won’t let Black get you,” Ginny assured. 

“Mates, it’s not like he can understand you. He’s a rat!” Harry reminded them. “And how do you know it is Scabbers?”

“He’s a bit yellow… like Ron said,” Neville said. “And it seems like he understands… the way he’s looking at us.”

“How on earth did he get to London from the Bur–?” Hermione’s question was interrupted by a yelp and she toppled over into Harry, Gemma, and Ginny. Harry’s shield went up as he went down. 

“Wha–!” he exclaimed as tried to extricate himself. 

There was a low growl that made him freeze as the hair on his arms and neck rose. Then there was a mad scrabbling, squeaking, and heart-stopping snarl and snapping of jaws. Clods of dirt hit the shield, making it shudder.

Harry struggled to get up. He felt the cloak being tugged off his head unwittingly in the tumult of limbs and bodies. His wand was already in his hand, but to use it, he’d have to take down his shield… the shield that he was desperate to know had covered all of them. 

“Stupid, stupid!” he shouted at himself as he realized the danger his friends were in… because of him. He was still prone on the wet earth.

Something forceful hit the shield and the giant dog yelped piteously as everyone within the shield (except Gemma whose clutching hand on his arm spasmed) screamed. Approaching voices and footsteps almost obscured the sound of the limping dog running away. From the sewer, the sounds of squeaks and scritching nails were growing fainter. 

“I’m pretty sure that Scabbers got away!” Neville said in a hoarse whisper and Harry felt a rush of relief. 

“Ginny? Hermione?” Harry recognized Arthur Weasley’s voice, even though he sounded more alarmed than Harry had ever heard before. “What are you doing out here? I thought you were with your mum, getting your school supplies!”

Harry felt around for the hood and tried to pull it back over his head. He suspected his legs were sticking out from under it as well as he’d untied the laces that fastened the cloak to his legs so that he could use his staff earlier. 

Gemma was tugging on his arm, helping him stand up and turning him in the direction of the voices. Some had run after the fleeing dog, while others were shouting orders or asking forceful questions. 

Harry pulled the cloak around them tighter and felt better when he could feel Ginny, Neville, and Hermione pressing in around them. 

“Er, we were…” Ginny trailed off. 

“I needed some things from a muggle shop,” Hermione said over her. “Ginny and Neville wanted to come with me.” 

“An.. and then there were all these rats! Well, we… we… we… ran,” Neville added in a stutter. 

“I thought I saw more of you,” a woman’s voice asked. 

“Er, no. It's just us,” Hermione said with conviction as they crowded closer around Harry and Gemma. 

“We can question them later… right now we need to catch that Death Eater!”

“You shouldn’t be out here! You need to get back to Diagon Alley… to Molly… and get home!” Mr. Weasley insisted as a deep-voiced Auror reiterated harshly that they needed to continue their pursuit of Black. 

“This instant!” Mr. Weasley demanded over his shoulder as he and the others ran down another alleyway.

The five of them stood stock still until Neville drew a deep breath and the rest of them stepped apart. 

“Is everyone okay?” Ginny asked. “Harry? Gemma?”

Harry asked Gemma and she caught the slip, then her tremulous hand was tapping reassuringly on his arm. 

“We’re both okay. But what happened?” Harry asked. 

“That beast came out of nowhere!” Hermione said. “Knocked me over lunging for Scabbers… but he didn’t get him!”

“Shouldn’t we try to get Scabbers?” Neville asked, tentatively. 

“Frankly, I think he’s better off without our help,” Ginny muttered as she brushed grass off her robes. “I’ve never seen that rat move so fast!”

“Come on. Let’s see if we can find Ron and the twins… then head back to the Alley. Everyone’s looking at us… I think it our school robes. We look like we’re escaped from a children’s choir,” Hermione said. 

Gemma was asking Harry to tell him what they were saying. He stopped and repeated the conversation for her and she grabbed the slip of paper to read it. 

“What are we going to tell Ron?” Harry wondered aloud as they walked through the garden and back to the cobbled stones of the alley. 

“That Scabbers got away from Black?” Ginny answered doubtfully. 

“Yeah. I guess there’s that,” Harry said and stopped for a moment so he could fill Gemma in again. 

“Stop stopping!” Hermione urged. 

“I’m just trying to keep Gemma in the loop,” Harry explained, a bit exasperated. 

“What if he comes back?” Hermione said. “I’ve never seen such a big dog.”

“Yeah,” Neville agreed. 

Harry repeated their words in a whisper and caught the slip himself to give to Gemma, just stumbling a little as it was hard to concentrate on everything at once. They had emerged from the alley where the usual mayhem of Charing Cross Road seemed intensified. 

Probably due to the avalanche of rats that just overrun it, Harry thought, shivering at the remembrance of their squeaking, scratching, sepulchral chorus.

Ginny hooted in laughter and soon, Hermione and Neville had joined in. Gemma’s giggles shook through Harry where her arm was thrown around his waist.

“What’s so funny?” he asked. 

“It’s… Ron!” Hermione gasped. 

“Fred. George,” was all Neville managed.

“They dressed him… they dressed him as the pied piper!” Ginny snorted.

“Oh, and he’s not happy!” Hermione said, with a suppressed giggle.

Chapter Text

As the group of friends hurried back to the Egress to Diagon Alley, it seemed like everyone who passed them was talking about the flood of rats that had just coursed through Charing Cross Road. 

“Fred. George. Put Ron’s clothes right. They are drawing more attention than the rats!” Hermione hissed. 

“That’s a fair point… do the honors, George?” Fred conceded. 

“There you go, Ron… back to school robes in the middle of London… doesn’t stand out at all,” George chortled.

“This isn’t a time to be taking the mickey out of anyone!” Hermione protested. 

“What do you mean, Herms?” Fred teased and had probably pulled Hermione into a side hug, given the way she was baulking. “What better time than when the streets are teeming with rats, muggles, Aurors, and escaped death eaters?”

Harry shrugged to himself… Fred had a point. Gemma asked him what was going on and Harry tried his best to describe it. She caught hold of the slip of paper and scratched her agreement on his arm. 

It was getting hot under the invisibility cloak and rivulets of sweat were making their way down Harry’s neck. Gemma was pressed close to him, one arm around his waist so they could move in unison. His clothes were sticking to him.

Ginny yelped, and lurching, she pulled Harry (and Gemma) to the side. 

“Wha—!” Harry exclaimed. 

 “More rats! They almost ran into us!” Ginny panted. 

“Gah! How many rats are there in London?” Neville muttered when they had to stop as yet another mischief of rats blocked their path. Their scritching nails and chorus of squeaks were unnerving. 

“More rats than people, that’s for sure! And where is Scabbers!?” Ron moaned. 

“Do not play the flute again!” George demanded. “Or I’ll put a permanent sticking charm on that Pied Piper hat!”

“Stop it!” Ron bleated. 

“We’re nearly there,” Hermione assured. “Come on.”

“Nearly where?” Harry asked… he had lost all sense of direction. 

“Diagon Alley.”

“I think I better just go to the apparition point… I’ve got to get Nio .”

“What about all your school things?” Hermione asked. 

“I can figure that out later.”

“Mum already thinks Harry is safely there, Hermione. It probably is better if Harry goes. I don’t think Dad saw him… but that one Auror did, I’m pretty sure.”

“No! They haven’t!” Fred exclaimed. 

Harry was really confused by Fred’s tone as it didn’t seem like him to be so upset about an Auror possibly seeing Harry. 

But then he realized that it must be something else when he ran into someone who had stopped directly in front of him. Ginny, Harry, and Gemma were still trying to right themselves when Neville and Hermione rammed into them from the back. 

“Please, no!” Ginny groaned.

“Not Dementors again!” George shouted. “What does the Ministry think is going to happen? In the middle of London!”

“Seriously?” Hermione said. “After what happened at the Burrow?”

“Ginny?” Harry asked, registering the tremors that were telegraphing through his hold on her. “You all right?”  

“They are getting closer,” Fred said, gravely. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Isn’t it dangerous to let them loose where there are so many muggles?” Harry said. “Can they even see them?”

“It doesn’t look like it,” Neville said. “But they seem to notice the shift in weather… if you didn’t know better it looks like a storm is coming in.” 

Gemma was squeezing his arm tight and stepping backwards. Ginny’s tremors were getting stronger as she leaned into Harry from the other side. 

“Ginny,” Neville said. “You look really pale!”

“Let’s go in here!” Ron said, dispelling their paralysis and suddenly the group was mobilizing again, pulling Harry and Gemma in the opposite direction. Gemma let go of his arm long enough to sign that there was a step. 

They were squeezing through a narrow passage that smelled strongly of shepherd’s pie and beer. 

A pub. They had entered a muggle pub. 

They were huddling in the entrance muttering about how long they needed to wait when someone greeted them cheerily.  

“So, how many in your party?” 

“Er, we don’t need a table,” Hermione sputtered. 

“Er, yes, we do,” Ron interjected. “This place smells heavenly!”

“A table for eight, please,” Fred said. 

“We don’t have time for a meal!” Hermione stated, then hissed. “Or the pounds .”

“Er, that’s a fair point,” George muttered. 

“Oh, right. So sorry. We’ll just be heading out,” Fred explained to the host. 

Another group of people entered the pub, exclaiming about how quickly the temperature had dropped and arguing about whether or not it was an unexpected summer storm. The air that came in the door with them was significantly cooler than earlier. Harry and Gemma were pressed against the wall as their friends tried to make room. The host greeted the new visitors and showed them to a table. 

Ron’s stomach was growling loudly… almost drowning out his grumbling about not getting to eat.

“They are still out there,” Ginny whispered. Her voice was stronger, though. He guessed that she was peering through a window on the door. 

“How many are there?” Harry asked Ginny in a low voice, as Gemma moved around him, grabbing the slip of paper and trying to see out the door as well. 

Gemma tapped “two” on his arm. 

“Harry, they are horrid,” Ginny said, her voice wobbling. “It’s like being in the Chamber again.”

“Oi, here come some Aurors… look at that! They are making the Dementors move with those silvery things,” Neville said. 

Gemma relaxed her grip on Harry’s arm. 

Another party entered the pub and with them a blast of ice-cold air. Ginny moved toward the open door and they spilled out into the eerily quiet street. The change was so marked from when they had been out on Charing Cross Roads just minutes before, it was as if they had crossed through an Egress. The sweat that had pooled in the small of Harry’s back turned icy and Gemma’s tremors were being broadcast through her arms that tightened again around him. Ginny was also pressed up against him.

“Are we sure they are gone? Shouldn’t we wait inside longer?” Harry said, he also felt unsteady on his feet as the noxious fumes of the Dementors reached his nose. 

“What is going on?” Ron asked. “Where’d everyone go?”

“I can see my breath!” Neville exclaimed. “Gah! They’re niffy!”

“Let’s go this way,” Fred urged. “The Aurors are directing the Dementors down Great Newport Street… let’s go to the Center… it is close by.”

It was strange to be on Charing Cross Road devoid of traffic and pedestrians. They crossed the intersection and hurried along the street until they all slowed, coming to a stop and turning toward the wall of buildings to their right. 

“It’s here, right?” Hermione said.  

Harry shook out his staff and walked forward a couple of steps until he heard the greeting welcoming them to the Perenelle Flamel Adaptation Center. Gemma questioned what they were asking.

“Yes, we’re at the Center,” Harry confirmed, passing the slip to Gemma. It was getting warmer and the roar of traffic was starting to filter through the piercing silence… though still at a distance. 

“We can go through the Center’s Egress to Diagon Alley,” Neville suggested. 

“If they’ve been able to repair them,” Harry amended. 

They stepped through the doorway that had opened up and once they had all passed through they were enveloped in the warmth and aromas of the Center. From the reception desk came the distinctive percussion of Godric’s brailler. Harry’s throat constricted. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed all of it. As they moved closer to the desk, the brailler stopped. 

“Welcome. How may I help you?” Godric Burbage asked. “Though you should know that the Center is currently closed.”

“Hi, Mr. Burbage,” Neville said. “It’s me, Neville Longbottom, and other friends of Harry’s and Gemma’s. They are with us, too, though under the invisibility cloak… well, I suppose that doesn’t make a difference to you…” 

“I could tell there’s quite the group of you, Neville, but no, I can’t tell that Gemma and Harry are concealed under an invisibility cloak,” Godric chuckled. “It’s good to see you again. What can I do for you lot?”

“Wait, I thought he was blind!” Ron whispered though Harry was sure that Godric heard. 

“Oi! What was that for?” 

Harry smiled. Someone must have poked Ron. He had never realized how literal Ron was before all this.

“We’re trying to get back to Diagon Alley… there are Dementors out on Charing Cross Road…” George interjected. 

“... and so many rats!” Ginny added. 

“We thought maybe we could go through an Egress here,” Hermione suggested. 

“Dementors and rats?” Godric questioned. “That’s an odd combination.”

“Tell me about it,” Ron sighed and Harry giggled. It all seemed so absurd.

“Sadly, our Egress is still being repaired, but our floo network is connected again if you’d like to use that,” Godric offered. 

Harry groaned inwardly.

“Where’d we floo to?” Ron asked. “The Leaky Cauldron? Or the Magical Menagerie?”

“We’re connected to the Leaky Cauldron,” Godric supplied. 

“Oh, drat,” Hermione said. “I’m supposed to meet my mum and dad at the Menagerie.”

“Oh! Lucky! What are they getting you?” Ginny asked. 

“It’s a surprise! An early birthday present,” Hermione said. “But I suppose it’d be better just to show up to the shop normally… they might wonder where I’ve been if I arrive by floo.”

“Harry, can you take your group to the floo?” Godric asked. “I need to remain at the desk.”

“Er, I don’t know where it is,” Harry said. Gemma grabbed the slip of paper and tapped a question on his arm.

“The floo entrance,” Harry said to Gemma, then told Godric that Gemma knew and would lead them there as she signed all this to him and then slipped out from under the cloak. 

After a chorus of good-byes to Godric, the group trailed after Gemma, going through the door that led to the main corridor through the Center, but turning right instead of left as Harry expected. 

Harry caught a wiff of the owelry as they passed it and then they were turning left, but not going through a doorway. From the sound of it, they had entered another smaller corridor. 

“What is this place,” Harry asked, realizing that he hadn’t been in this part of the Center before. He didn’t know there was anything beyond the owlery. 

“I dunno,” Ginny shrugged. “It kinda looks like the staff lounge at Hogwarts, though.”

Harry frowned remembering the glimpses he’d had of the lounge at Hogwarts and not feeling comforted by the thought of a similar room at the Center. He reminded himself that Snape wasn’t likely to come swooping out of the corner to interrogate him. 

The group had stopped before the crackling floo fire… the faint aroma of floo powder brought the green flames to Harry’s mind. 

Harry wished he had asked Godric for advice for how to travel through the floo network without getting sick and lost. Surely, Godric had figured it out, if anyone could.

“What is it?” Ginny asked as Harry hung back. 

“Er, traveling by floo…” Harry said quietly. 

“Oh, right,” Ginny said as she turned, looking around the room. “There’s an apparition point here, too. Do you want to use that?”

“I didn’t know there was one within the Center!” Harry exclaimed. “We always had to go out of the Center before.”

“I think it is new,” Neville said. “I don’t remember seeing it before.”

“You’ve been in here?” Harry asked, not really understanding why he was so annoyed. 

“Sure, Gemma showed me when I visited her… when she was helping me speak to my mum,” Neville said simply and Harry’s annoyance slipped away. 

“Listen up! Is Gemma nearby? Can she see my notes?” Harry asked, pushing the hood of the invisibility cloak off his head. 

Gemma responded by tapping him on his arm and he continued, “ I’m going to go back to my cave… collect Nio and I’ll see you all tomorrow at King’s Cross, all right?” Harry announced rather more confidently than he felt. 

Ron snorted on cue. 

“Oh, but Harry!” Hermione protested as Gemma squeezed him tight around his middle. 

“I’ll let you know that I’m okay. I’ll send you a message on the tablet,” Harry said, tactilely signing to Gemma on her back. She nodded against his chest and reluctantly stepped away.

“Yep, better to go ahead and do what Mum is expecting than surprise her at the Leaky Cauldron,” George said sagely. 

Harry shuddered at the thought of Mrs. Weasley catching him out… or Auror Bones for that matter. He shook out his staff and cast the navigation spell, asking it to guide him to the apparition point. His staff notified him when he was correctly positioned. 

“Ron, I’ll keep an eye out for Scabbers,” Harry said before he twisted around, thinking about the damp earthy aroma of the caves and the sound of the trickling water of the fountain in the atrium.

Ron’s voice trailed after him and then was cut off as he traveled. 

“Aw, thanks, mate… that’s… wait! What?—”

[break]

The next day Harry said his goodbyes again to the underground sanctuary with a bit of regret… knowing that while he couldn’t wait to be on the train again with his friends, he was going to miss the absolute safety of the caves. At least this time Nio was snug against his belly. 

Hedwig had started early to Hogwarts… it would be a long flight for her… but she apparently preferred twelve hours of flying over riding the Hogwarts express in a cage. He couldn’t blame her. When he had asked, she simply growled, nipped his ear, and then flew down the passage way to the sea cliffs exit. 

Checking one last time that he had gathered up all of his things by grazing his hands over the shelf that had served as his bed for the last three weeks, Harry whispered to Nio that he guessed he was ready. 

“Why are you whispering?” the snake responded. 

“No idea,” Harry whispered back. 

“Well, get on with it. I hate the waiting almost more than the actual feeling of being turned inside out,” Nio grumbled. 

“Right. Sorry. Hmmm, I wonder if we still have time to fly into London?” Harry asked himself. 

“Absolutely not,” the snake shuddered, flipping around by Harry’s belly button and making him squirm in turn. "What's wrong with just gliding through tunnels? And why are leg walkers constantly moving hither and thither? We've got everything we need here…no need to go anywhere else."

"I can't just hide forever," Harry said, his recent time with his friends on his mind. He wondered if he could ever find an in-between place… a balance between isolation and chaos. Harry shook the thoughts out of his head so that he could focus on apparating to the Leaky Cauldron where he was meeting the Weasleys and the Grangers. He was a little uneasy about it since the last time he’d been in there he could see and it wasn’t like he’d paid attention to the apparition point. Hermione had described it in great detail on the tablet the night before. He hoped it would work. 

In a lengthy letter that he’d received a week ago, Professor McGonagall had tried to talk him into apparating to the Hogsmeade station instead and skipping the whole train trip altogether. He also had never paid attention to the apparition spot at Hogsmeade… perhaps even moreso than the Leaky Cauldron which was the first magical space he had encountered.  He had politely insisted that he wanted to start the year on the train with everyone else. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. 

Nio nudged him again and Harry patted the snake at his belly and then concentrated on apparating to the Leaky Cauldron. He twisted and focused and felt the toffee pull of moving through space. The temperature, aroma, and sounds settled into the hoppy, warm chatter of the pub and he heaved a sigh of relief that he’d made it with all his body parts. He slipped his hood off his head and straightened up. 

“Harry! You’ve arrived!” Hermione called from across the room, her footsteps clattering closer on the wood planks. “You won’t believe what my parents got me!”

Nio was complaining loudly as he wriggled against Harry’s belly button and Harry put a hand over him. Something wet and furry pressed against his cheek and then pain erupted on his collarbone… like he’d be snagged by a few fishhooks. Harry yelped and tried to batt the thing that Hermione was thrusting in his face away while still protecting Nio .

“Oh, Crookshanks! You naughty cat!” Hermione reprimanded in a sing-song voice. “Sorry, Harry. I didn’t think he’d do that.”

“A cat?”  

Nio wriggled against Harry’s hand in obvious distress. Harry took a step backward into the wall. 

“Hermione. Your cat clawed me,” Harry tried to explain with an even voice. “He’s upsetting Nio.”

“I told you!” Ron bellowed from across the room. “That cat is a menace!”

“Oh, Ron. He’s not! He’s the sweetest wittle kittie ever,” Hermione crooned as she padded away from Harry and toward Ron, still nuzzling her cat. 

“There’s no way Scabbers will come back if he’s around,” Ron protested. 

Harry shook out his staff and followed his friends across the pub, thankful for his staff that helped him navigate around the many chairs and tables in his path. A few people exclaimed in alarm as he neared… he imagined his floating head wasn’t something they saw every day… but he didn’t feel safe enough to take his cloak off completely. 

“Oh, Mr. Potter!” A familiar voice accosted him. “You’ve arrived!” 

Chapter Text

Harry stopped and turned toward the voice. 

“Yes?” he asked. 

“It’s Auror Bones,” the voice supplied helpfully. 

“Er, hello,” Harry said, surprised as no one had told him that the Auror would be meeting them at the pub.

“I’ve something for you,” she said in a soft voice. “Do you have a minute?” 

“Yes?” Harry said. 

“May I guide you to a table? Where we can sit?” 

“Sure, or I can follow you,” Harry supplied. 

“Oh, yes, right. With your staff,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. “Er, your disembodied head is a bit alarming… perhaps take the cloak off entirely?” 

“Oh, right. If you don’t mind, I’ll just put the hood on again. Safety first,” he said, echoing her words back. 

 “That’s fine, too,” she said, turning away from him, and he listened as she walked over the worn wood planks.

He asked his staff to follow her and then found a chair when they reached a far table in the corner of the pub. 

“Would you like some tea?” Auror Bones asked as she gently rattled a teacup in its saucer. 

“Yes, please,” Harry said and placed his hands on the table so that she’d be able to see them to hand him the teacup. He looked up expectantly in her direction after he had the hot tea cup cradled between his palms, then realized she couldn’t see his face… just his hands. He put down the teacup and adjusted the hood, hoping that his face was visible to her, but not the rest of the room. 

“Oh, thank you. Yes, I can see your face now,” she said, stirring her tea. 

“It is disconcerting to talk to someone when you can’t…” she trailed off. “Er. I suppose that’s what it is like for you all the time. Sorry, I hadn’t considered…”

“It’s okay,” Harry said. “I’m getting used to it. What was it you wanted?”

“Ah, right. I have this for you,” Auror Bones said as she pushed something across the table. 

Harry gingerly reached toward the noise… it sounded like parchment. He found a small rolled-up scroll and took it, unfurling it on the tabletop and then running his fingers over it. He found the texture of ink in even lines, but couldn’t decipher it.

“Alas, it isn’t in braille… it is meant for other eyes,” Auror Bones explained. “This is your apparating license. It took some doing… I had to call in a few favors…” She paused when Harry made a protesting noise. “Worth it because I didn’t want you to get into trouble for apparating without a license when you clearly are capable and it could save your life.”

“Thank you,” Harry said, rolling the parchment back up and storing it in his staff. 

“Just remember that you can’t apparate within Hogwarts. Trying could lead to splinching or worse,” she said. 

Harry cringed trying to imagine what could be worse than splinching. 

“Harry, I trust that you’ll use it wisely. I’m taking a risk giving this to you. You understand that if something happens, you aren’t the only one who will be scrutinized?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry said with a gulp. 

“And I will accompany you and the Weasleys to King’s Cross and on the Hogwarts Express,” Auror Bones said with a firmness that was clearly in response to his grim expression. “It is a necessary precaution… especially as the Ministry is insisting on other measures.”

“What other measures?” Harry asked. 

“Measures that I’m not at liberty to discuss,” she said with a finality that made Harry leave it there. “Just stick close to the Weasley’s. No straying, understood?”

“Understood. So I take it that this means that Black is still on the loose?” Harry said, glumly. 

“Yes. He’s giving us quite the chase,” she said with a grim laugh. “I imagine you want to get back to your friends. It is imperative that you stay with them. It is hard for us to keep an eye on you when you’re under the cloak… as magnificent as it is, it is a bit of a liability… and we’re relying on you to help us keep you safe.”

Harry nodded as he pulled the cloak closer and pushed his chair back.

“Thank you for the tea and the license, Auror Bones,” Harry said as he stood and asked his staff to direct him to Ron and Hermione. 

They weren’t too hard to find as they were still arguing about the merits of the cat. It made Harry smile… even as he rubbed the spot where Crookshanks had nailed him with his sharp claws on his collarbone. 

“... swear I saw his tail disappearing under my bed,” Ron was saying. “And then that bloody cat came running in and was sniffing around… there’s no way he’s going to come back while the cat is lurking!”

“Oh, Ron. He likes to roam… he’s used to being free,” Hermione said. 

“His freedom puts Scabbers at risk!” Ron argued. “You should have him on a lead.”

The image of a cat on a lead made Harry snort and they abruptly stopped arguing. 

“Harry, are you nearby?” Hermione asked.

Harry pulled the cloak back to his ears so that his face would show and Ron guffawed.

Nio had made his way to Harry’s neck and his head was bobbing under Harry’s chin as they approached. He muttered something about the cat that Harry couldn’t quite make out. 

“What did Auror Bones want?” Ron asked as Harry settled onto the bench near Hermione. 

“Er, just to tell me the plan for the day…” Harry said.

“What was that scroll she gave you?” Hermione asked. 

“My apparating license,” Harry mumbled. “Say, what time are we leaving for the station?”

“Your apparating license?!” Ron nearly shouted. “George and Fred haven’t even got theirs yet!”

“Oh, Harry. That’s amazing. I was so worried that you were going to be fined for under-age apparating.”

Harry shot a wry smile in Hermione’s direction… he hadn’t even thought of that. 

Upstairs, they could all hear doors starting to slam and trunks careening down the hallway, followed by footsteps and pretty soon the pub was filled with the lively noise of rest of the Weasleys. 

“Oh, Harry! You gave me a fright… even though Hermione warned me that you’ve been wearing your invisibility cloak constantly. It is odd. The floating head thing, I mean,” Mrs. Granger said. 

“Er, hello, Mrs. Granger! I didn’t hear you come down!” 

“Hello, Harry. I’m here, too,” Mr. Granger said. “Are you getting on all right? Hermione’s filled us in, of course. Shame about the Center closing down after that attack… seemed like such a good place.”

“It should be up and running again soon,” Harry assured. 

“The bus is nearly here!” Mrs. Weasley announce. “Ginny… where’s your trunk?” 

“Bus?” Harry questioned, turning in Hermione’s direction. 

“Yes, the Ministry is sending a bus to pick us up,” Hermione supplied. 

“Ugh. I hope it is better than the Knight bus,” Harry muttered. 

It turned out to be quite a bit better than the Knight bus. It was rather like a moving living room complete with comfy sofas and side tables set up with tea trays with pastries and fruit in addition to the soothing aroma of breakfast tea. And it didn’t go winging around like the Knight bus. 

“Why can’t all wixen transport be like this?” Harry sighed, sinking into the sofa. 

“The Hogwarts Express isn’t so bad,” Hermione said taking a minute to stop cooing to Crookshanks.  Harry heard the cat plunk softly on the ground near her feet. 

“Yeah… but floo powder? The Knight Bus?” Harry responded.

“I dunno, mate,” Ron said around a mouth full of pastries. “Hey, tell your cat to stop sniffing my bookbag!” 

“He’s just curious,” Hermione said. “Come on, Crookshanks, let’s go talk to Ginny.”

Nio started wending his way up Harry’s belly and chest and Harry reached inside his shirt to give the snake a hand up to his neck to prevent more tickling. 

“You’ll keep me safe from that cat, yes?” Nio whispered in Harry’s ear. 

“Yes, don’t worry,” Harry softly hissed in reply. “The cat will live in another part of the castle.”

“Good,” whispered Nio, nuzzling his head under Harry’s chin. 

The trip was speedy and they were already clambering out of the bus before Harry had had a chance to eat the biscuits he’d put on his plate. He stuffed them into his pocket for later, wrapped carefully in a paper serviette. 

“Harry, where’s your trunk?” Mrs. Weasley grilled him. 

“In here,” Harry said, thrusting his hand holding his staff out from under his cloak. 

“Oh, that’s right!” Mrs. Weasley said. “Now cover your face before we go out into the crowd… and promise me that you’ll stick close to Ron and Hermione.” She waited for his response and he nodded before pulling the hood of the cloak over his face again. She patted him clumsily on the back before absently bustling by him to start in on her own children about where their belongings were and how to load them onto the waiting trollies out on the tarmac. 

Harry was thankful he didn’t have to mess with the trollies. He stepped off the bus and onto the pavement and used the navigation charm to find Ron who had tromped away, supposedly tracking down his trunk. Since he was completely invisible to everyone around him it was a bit of a trick to skirt all the hustle and bustle of the Weasley family (plus the Granger family) and the Aurors who had accompanied them in the hopes of intercepting Sirius Black. The place seemed to be devoid of regular passengers though, much to Harry's relief. It took all his concentration on what both his staff and Nio were telling him to make it to Ron without getting bowled over by the rushing Weasleys as Mrs. Weasley urged them all on. 

“Oh, there you are. I was wondering where you’d gone,” Ron said when he finally tugged on Ron’s robes. “Look at this. Can you believe it? Someone’s been messing with my trunk.”

“What did they do?” Harry asked. 

“Er, right. Got through my locking enchantments and threw stuff around.”

“How’d they do that without anyone noticing?”

“No idea… pretty bold with all the Aurors around and everything,” Ron sighed as he pushed stuff around and then closed the lid with a satisfying click of metal on metal and a pop of magic. 

“Was anything missing?” 

“Like I have anything that anyone would want to steal! They’d be more likely to leave something behind instead,” Ron chuckled. “But, yeah, no. Just made a ruddy mess of my trunk.”

“And it was tidy before?”

“Fair point. Hold the trolley while I levitate the trunk on it?” Ron asked, sliding the trolley over to Harry who had stuck his hand out from under the cloak.

Harry felt his face grow hot as his hand met empty air trying to locate the handle, but fortunately Ron was busy trying to get his levitation charm to work and didn’t notice. 

"Just think of mountain trolls," Harry teased, when his hand finally found the sticky metal.

“Hey!”

Finally the trolley shifted under the weight of the trunk and Ron nudged Harry out of the way so that he could drive the trolley. Harry kept a hand on the handle, though, so he wouldn't have to attempt navigation through the chaos again.

He adjusted the cloak so that his hand was under it just as he felt the shiver of a magical barrier pass over them and he was immersed in sounds of metal clanging on metal, the irregular hum of people walking and talking, the smell of oil and dust, and the heat of all that activity burning off the early morning mist. 

Ahead, Harry could hear the rest of their crowd, though no one behind them. He picked up the pace a bit, wanting to catch up. 

“What’s up?” Ron asked. 

“It’s just… I promised Auror Bones that I’d stay close.”

“Yeah,” Ron agreed, surprising Harry. “I overheard Mum and Dad talking… they think that this is the most likely place that Black bloke would try to jump you.”

Ron started jogging and Harry stumbled as the trolley lurched forward. He regained his footing and then ran alongside Ron, ignoring Nio’s protests at being jostled. 

Harry turned his head to listen behind them. He thought he’d heard something behind them scrabbling to keep up, though it was hard to tell with the noise of the cart’s wheels skittering over the rough surface.  

His moment’s inattention cost him his breath as the cart came to an abrupt stop and his diaphragm was pushed against the handle. 

“Oh, sorry, mate. I should have warned you,” Ron said. “We caught up. Didn’t want to ram Ginny with the cart.”

“It’s all right,” Harry wheezed. 

Mrs. Weasley was ushering her children through the platform entrance, mindful of groups of passing muggles, though she didn’t seem to think that the muggles could hear her speaking about them. 

“Where’s Harry?” Mrs. Weasley asked. 

“He’s with me, Mum!” Ron shouted, making Harry cover his offended ear. 

“Hush!” Ginny whispered harshly. “Did you forget what the Aurors told us?”

“Oh, right. Sorry,” Ron muttered chagrinned, and then shouting, ammended. “I mean, no idea where he’s at! Definitely not here.”

“That’ll help loads!” Ginny grumbled, while Mrs. Weasley sputtered in confusion. 

“Here, just go ahead of me already,” Ginny urged. 

Harry clung to the trolley as Ron maneuvered it around Ginny and to the head of the line. 

“So sorry, Harry!” Mrs. Weasley sighed as he and Ron ran forward past her and through the Egress onto Platform 9 ¾.  

Harry’s response was eclipsed by the noise of the platform. He breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Come on, let’s get our compartment,” Ron urged, dragging Harry forward with the trolley. “I see Hermione. She’s already getting on the train.”

Harry caught snatches of conversations as they threaded their way through the crowded platform—the wixen had noticed the presence of Aurors and were speculating about why they were there. He pulled the invisibility cloak around his neck more firmly and found that Nio had his head stuck out… farther than his chin. 

“ Nio!” he hissed in Parseltongue. “They’ll see you!”

“No one has yet, Sethi ,” the snake replied calmly. 

“Well, even for wixen a snake head floating through King’s Cross Station would be startling. Please, be more careful.”

“What are you hissing about?” Ron asked. 

“Just talking to Nio ,” Harry explained. “He was poking his head out.”

“Ha! That would be a sight! We should totally prank someone like that. It’d be brilliant!”

 “Ron! Are you talking to yourself?” Someone shouted near Harry’s ear and running into him. 

“Omph!” Harry couldn’t help exclaiming. 

“What was that?” they asked. 

“Er, hey Dean! How were your hols?” 

“Bloody brilliant! My mum got me tickets to the West Ham / Sheffield game last week… they slaughtered them… 2 to 0!” Dean said as he bounced along side them. Harry tried to make himself small, but he didn’t want to let go of the trolley. 

“That’s great, Dean… foot ball… right?” Ron struggled to express interest. 

“Yeah… say, have you seen Harry? He’d be stoked… bet he watched the game on the telly… er, right. Maybe not. Geez. That’s hard, innit?” Dean said when Ron made a strangled noise. “Er, well, I’m going to find Seamus. See you on the train, all right?”

“Sorry, Harry. That was…” Ron trailed off as other people greeted him. It was getting more crowded on the platform and Harry ran into the handle a few times when Ron stopped suddenly.

“Any kind of warning would be helpful,” Harry wheezed after the third time. 

“Oh, right. We need those bells you put on the brooms for Quidditch!” 

“Yeah, no. I don’t think that’d work in here,” Harry panted. “We’re nearly there, right?”

There was a hot breeze that seemed to be coming up from the floor, heavy with the smell of coal dust and burning oil. 

“Right. Hang tight… just going to levitate my trunk onto the train,” Ron huffed.  

Harry held the trolley steady while Ron worked on the encantation. Finally, the trunk lurched off the trolley and Ron was gone, leaving Harry holding onto the handle in a sea of chattering adolescents, shin-crashing trolleys, squawking owls, and harried parents. Harry drew in a shuddering breath and let it out slowly trying to decide what to do. 

The trolley jerked out of his hands and careened through the crowd…a ripple of yelps was left in its wake as it was no doubt summoned by some frantic student fearful of missing the train.

He cursed under his breath and shook out his staff to cast a quick navigation charm to find Ron. As people kept running into him from all sides… most likely thinking that there was an open spot through which to pass in the crowd of people, he resisted the urge to cast his shield charm. Its rainbow sheen would alert everyone to his presence. He just gave into the ebb and flow of the crowd and allowed himself to be buffeted toward the train, trying to sort through all the warnings from his staff from the directions to navigate toward the steps of the car. At last the tip of the staff sunk into the gap under the train and he was able to find the handrailing before someone pushed him out of the way and he hauled himself quickly up the metal steps. 

In the narrow passage, he kept himself pressed against the wall until he encountered a doorway to a compartment, then he listened for anyone going in or out and then hopped across it quickly. 

“Why are you jumping about like a moon frog?” A wispy and almost familiar voice asked from a compartment behind him. 

Harry froze and then decided they couldn’t be talking to him… he was invisible after all. Some students pushed passed him and he crouched down, pressing himself against the wall as he could hear their trunks following them and scrapping along the passage walls like elephantine balloons. 

“Perhaps you’re trying to shake the Aquavirius Maggots that are following you?” the voice was now directly behind him and clearly addressing him. 

He jumped.

“The what?” he said in alarm.

“Aquavirius Maggots… though it is the wrong season,” Luna mused. 

Harry was glad to finally place the voice.

“I’m just trying to not get hit by anyone or anything going through the corridors. And how is it that you can see me?”

“Oh, I can’t see you,” she stated. 

“Then how did you know I am here?” 

“What a silly question!” she giggled. “How do you know that I’m here?”

“I heard you talking to me,” Harry said incredulously. 

“Exactly.”

“But I wasn’t talking.”

The train rocked from side to side as more people climbed on and the sound of trunks careening into the walls pursuing them followed soon after. Harry started to flatten himself against the side in anticipation of their passing when Luna put her hand on his back. 

“This compartment is empty. Why not ride here?”

“I’m looking for Ron Weasely… have you seen him?”

“So many times, but that’s neither here, nor there,” Luna replied, as her hand found his shoulder, then elbow and she nudged him gently toward the door as the next wave of students descended on them. 

“Er?” Harry followed her into the compartment as the students lumbered by chattering loudly and had to agree with Nio that it was a relief to be out of the corridor. 

“Is your familiar also invisible?” Luna asked. 

“Familiar?” Harry asked. “Oh, you mean, Nio? ” 

Harry pushed the hood back from his face and then gently eased Nio onto the back of his fingers so that Luna could see the little snake. 

“ Nio, this is Luna,” Harry said in Parseltongue. 

“Moonchild?” Nio asked. 

“He wants to call you Moonchild,” Harry explained to Luna. 

“Oh! How do you say it in Parseltongue?” Luna said excitedly. 

“Kaorlie-keyet-keyet-kaiit, ” Harry hissed. 

Harry repeated the phrase for Luna a few times while Nio glided over and under his fingers and finally, she got it. 

“I really need to find Ron,” Harry murmured, turning his back to the door as more people went by. 

“And I would rather ride a flying pig!” Luna exclaimed. She then started addressing Nio so close to Harry's fingers that her breath warmed them. 

Harry was surprised that Nio didn't mind the attention, in fact, he was intrigued by Luna and was asking all sorts of questions… most of which made no sense to Harry. 

"Why do you want to know if she waters her roots with water from an east-facing spring?... No wait. Nevermind, can we find Ron first and then find out?" Harry had sat down and was leaning against his staff. Nio had transferred completely to Luna and Harry's neck felt naked without his cool coils pressed against his skin.

As more people went past in the corridor, Harry remembered that he had uncovered his face… he started to pull the hood back into place when someone grabbed his hand. 

“Gemma?” he asked, relieved after the initial jolt of shock of being touched unexpectedly. 

“Yes, it’s me!” Gemma signed into his hand. 

Harry quickly cast the charm that writes out his words on slips of paper, “Oh, good! I got separated from the Weasleys.”

“_______ are looking for you,” Gemma signed. 

“Who?”

“_______” she signed again into his hand. 

“No idea. Spell it out?”

She fingerspelled the word “Aurors” into his hand. 

“Oh, right. Yeah. I was supposed to stay close.”

“Wouldn’t communicating be easier with lacewing flies?” Luna interrupted. 

Harry had forgotten she was there. 

“What?” Harry asked as Gemma made an inquiring tap on his arm. “Er, can I teach you the Scribunt loqui charm so that Gemma knows what you’re saying?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Luna replied. 

“Er, Gemma doesn’t know what you’re saying, though,” Harry said, unable to hide the frustration in his voice.

“If only I had some lacewing flies with me… oh wait… I do!” Luna was rummaging around in her cloak. 

Gemma continued to tap on his arm and he signed that Luna was looking for something… it took him a second to remember the sign for insect, though he muttered, “Lacewing fly” as he searched his memory for the sign and felt Gemma pull back in confusion. She made a sign that Harry thought had something to do with brewing a potion under his hand. 

“Right. I know they are mostly used as potion ingredients… but I guess Luna thinks that they can help us communicate?” He was as baffled as Gemma. 

The rustling of fabric stopped and was replaced by a low-grade vibration, a humming of sorts. Gemma swatted at the air. 

“Let them help,” Luna said in a calming voice. 

“How do we do that?” Harry said, brushing one off his brow. 

“They feed off your words… so when you talk they create patterns as they nibble the air in front of you… and then it is just a matter of interpreting it,” Luna explained.

“Hmmm. Seems rather complicated,” Harry said. He resisted the urge to flick another one off his arm. 

“It does take some practice,” Luna agreed. 

“In the meantime, how about I teach you the Scribunt loqui charm?” Harry suggested. 

Finally, Luna acquiesced and was explaining the lacewing flies’ ability to translate spoken language into a haptic experience to Gemma who seemed captivated. Harry wasn’t really following it, though. 

The train car rocked as more students were walking through the corridor, but coming from the other direction. Someone was stopping at each compartment and asking questions… there was something familiar about the voice and Harry stood up and walked to the doorway. He pulled the hood over his face again while he listened, then drew back. 

It was Draco Malfoy and he wasn’t keen on running into him.

Chapter Text

“Ugh. Malfoy,” Harry muttered. His back was toward Gemma and she didn’t notice the slip of paper before it disappeared. He was glad and then remembered that she hadn’t been there when he’d overheard Malfoy's disparaging remarks about her. He thought about inviting both Luna and Gemma to hide under the cloak with him, then rejected the idea almost as quickly as he had it at the memory of how quickly an empty compartment filled normally. 

As Malfoy’s voice grew closer, he wracked his brain for a spell that he could cast…anything that would make him skip their compartment. But then he caught onto what Malfoy was asking and he was too dumbfounded to think clearly.

Malfoy’s lazy drawl drifted through the corridor, "Pardon me, but have you seen a runespoor? Mine have run off and I'm trying to find them."

Harry didn’t know what was more unsettling… the parallel to Neville looking for his toad in first year or the news that Malfoy had a snake … or rather snakes. Harry wondered if it was the runespoor he and Hermione had seen in the Magical Menagerie earlier in the summer. 

“ Nio , have you noticed a runespoor on the train?” Harry asked quietly in Parseltongue as he edged his way back into the compartment and found an empty spot on the bench next to Gemma.

She was signing enthusiastically with Luna and Harry was momentarily distracted, wondering what they were discussing.

" Nio ?" he asked, feeling for the little snake around his neck and then his belly. He gasped as he realised that Nio wasn't there and stood up suddenly and then froze, afraid of stepping on his little friend.

Harry waved his hand in Gemma's direction hoping to get her attention. When she didn't respond, he remembered that he was completely invisible and pushed the hood back so that his face was exposed and tried again.

"I can't find Nio !" he stated, trying to control his panic. 

Gemma tugged his hand forward until it was in contact with Nio's cool scales. The snake was contentedly weaving through Luna's fingers. 

Gemma patted Harry's back as the car rocked with the movement of more people climbing on board and someone behind him let out a loud exasperated sigh. 

"Oh, slippery Salazar! It's the leper and the loony bin!"

As Harry whirled around to face Malfoy, his wand snapped into his palm and he felt a satisfying surge of magic pulse through it. 

Malfoy gasped a muffled shriek that had Harry wishing he could see his face. He was too angry to laugh, even though a part of him was aware that his floating face had to be alarming.

Gemma grasped his wand arm and slid in front of him. 

“Oh! Potter’s got a creepy little bodyguard! I suppose that’s fitting now that you can’t defend yourself!” Malfoy sneered.

Sparks crackled as Harry’s rage manifested into uncontrolled magic driving Malfoy back out into the corridor. Gemma pulled on his arm and closed the compartment door with a resounding bang and the noise jolted him back from his roiling fury.  

She was signing furiously into his free hand and he didn’t need to understand the exact words to know that she was simultaneously alarmed and concerned with what had just happened. Of course, she didn’t know his history with Malfoy. She probably had no idea what was going on… just that he had suddenly exploded with magic at someone. 

Harry braced himself for Malfoy bursting back through the door, but he didn’t. Instead, he seemed to have vanished as a troupe of students lumbered by outside the closed compartment door. 

Harry thought it was odd that Malfoy would give up so easily and then realized that Malfoy must have been on his own, without his cronies to defend him. He grinned to himself as it occurred to him that his uncontrolled magic must have frightened the bully off. Gemma had pulled him down to the seat while Luna seemed to be distracted… humming to herself in the corner. 

Harry did his best to fill Gemma in and her questions became less insistent. Nio was just as curious about what had just happened and his description of Malfoy’s scrambling inelegantly down the corridor made Harry snort. 

Gemma relaxed against Harry’s side, her hand resting gently on his wrist and he slumped against the seat, taking a deep breath. Luna was still muttering and humming on the other side of the compartment and Harry realized that it sounded like she was speaking with someone. 

Out the window? A ghost? Did spirits travel with the Hogwarts Express? He shrugged to himself—it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility he supposed. 

The car rocked again, though more violently than before, as another group of people climbed aboard. Harry turned his ear toward the door. This was a familiar group and he felt the heat rise in his neck. They were looking for him and they weren’t happy.

He tapped Gemma’s arm to let her know they were coming and stood up, pulling the hood back from his face and finding the compartment door with his hand. 

“There you are! Oh, for the love of Merlin’s socks!” Mrs. Weasley gasped, her voice a blend of exasperation and relief. “Harry! And I thought that the twins would be the death of me.”

She had pulled him into a tight embrace and he struggled to breathe even as he found it comforting.

Ron, Ginny, and Hermione had squeezed into the compartment with Mrs. Weasley and were talking over each other—each exclaiming how they had searched everywhere for him and were certain that he’d been captured. 

They quieted when someone cleared their throat behind them and they shuffled around, trying to make room for another body in the space. 

“It seems nothing goes according to plan with you, Mr. Potter,” Auror Bones commented, a wry smile in her voice. 

“I will accompany you on this train journey,” the Auror stated and then gently pushed past the tangle of friends to settle on the seat near Luna. 

Harry sighed as the Auror’s presence put the niggling worry that Malfoy was on his way back with reinforcements to rest… though he knew that the inevitable confrontation would just happen later… in some remote corridor when he was least expecting it, no doubt. 

“What happened with Malfoy?” Hermione asked. 

“Wha— er, never mind. It was nothing,” Harry mumbled, aware that the Auror Bones was in the compartment and not wanting to explain it with everyone around. 

“Well, Gemma doesn’t think it was nothing,” Hermione huffed. 

“I’ll tell you later,” Harry whispered, bowing his head in an attempt to not draw the Auror’s attention, though the paper fluttered by his lips.

“Oh, all right,” Hermione sighed, finally cottoning on.

“Well, I’m glad you’re safe, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley said, squeezing his shoulder. “Let us know if you need anything. We’re just an owl away. Take care, dear.” 

There was a loud, cracking noise down the corridor that made them all jump. Harry stood up in alarm, his shield distorting the sounds around him as it encased him… and apparently his friends. They protested and he ended it.

 “Minerva’s owl! That better not be the twins!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed as she rushed out of the compartment. 

Harry was surprised when someone grabbed his elbow and steered him toward the window. 

“Oi!” he protested. 

“Sorry. I’m just trying to keep you safe,” Auror Bones stated as she gently pushed Harry back and down until he sat. “Pull your hood all the way on.” 

She hovered nearby but didn’t sit down. There was some shoving and protesting as the others tried to squeeze in next to Harry. Ron was protesting loudly that he wanted to sit next to Harry. With an exasperated sigh, Hermione settled onto the bench on the other side of the compartment. 

“ Now you want to make sure you don’t lose sight of him!” she huffed.

Gemma managed to stay by Harry’s side and was asking him what had happened. He explained about the cracking noise and Mrs. Weasley hurrying off to make sure that the twins weren’t up to something. 

“Like __________,” she asked. 

“Like what?” 

She finger spelled “apparition” on his hand and he asked her to repeat the sign she’d used a couple of times until he got it. 

“No,” he finally responded. “It was louder. Like a branch breaking. And I thought that people can't apparate onto the train, even when it isn’t moving.”

“That’s right. The Hogwarts Express has anti-apparition wards… even if someone was reckless enough to attempt it,” Auror Bones confirmed. 

“Ew. That sounds bad,” Ron said. 

“Muggle inventions have certainly interfered with our ability to move around the country easily, that’s for sure,” Auror Bones said, distractedly. She had stepped to the compartment door and it sounded like she was poking her head out into the corridor. 

“I think I’m going to seal us in here, just to be safe,” she stated as she closed the door with a bang and then uttered a sealing charm. The pressure in the room changed and Harry yawned to pop his ears. 

“What about mum and the boys,” Ginny asked. “Are they safe out there? What’s going on?”

“It’s fine. Just a precaution,” Auror Bones soothed. “The other Aurors are seeing to it.”

“Do you think it is that Dog Bloke?” Ron asked, excitement and fear mingled in his voice. “Did he get on the train?”

“I sure hope not,” Auror Bones said grimly. 

The others had stopped chattering as they strained to hear what was going on outside of the sealed compartment.  

Harry slumped against the seat, head flung back, weariness overtaking him. He sighed and thought of his peaceful, uneventful cave… wishing there was something in between total isolation and complete chaos. 

Maybe when I get to school, things will be normal? he thought.

Gemma patted his hand, her gesture understanding rather than inquisitive and he gave her a small smile. He tried to let the tension leach from his shoulders, neck, but he’d been holding on to it for too long for it to dissipate easily. 

“Er, Luna? What are you doing?” Hermione asked tentatively. 

“Hmmm?” came Luna’s amorphous response.

“What is that?” Hermione asked, now sharp, as Ron made a strangled noise and stood up abruptly, moving to the other side of the compartment. 

Harry tapped a question on Gemma’s hand that rested on his wrist. She made a hushing motion in response, scooting forward on her seat, while Ginny jumped up and took Ron’s vacated spot. 

“Luna?”

“Hmm?” Again her answer was so blasé, that Harry got the distinct impression that she was only vaguely aware of what was happening in the compartment… that she hadn’t noticed the strange noise, the compartment being sealed, everyone jumping around to other seats, or the tension in the air. 

There was a rattling of the handle, then a pounding on the compartment door and through the muffling of the sealing charm, Harry could hear a frazzled Mrs. Weasley demanding to be let in. Auror Bones ended the sealing charm and Harry felt his ears pop again with the released pressure. He wondered how it felt to Gemma. 

“Oh, my! It was the twins… helping Mei seal a compartment and fill it with water, so I suppose it wasn’t too much mischief… helping out a friend and all that. But they did manage to get water everywhere. The charms I’ve had to learn to keep up with them! And I better say my goodbyes. The train is about to depart. Are you all settled? Ginny? Ron? You’ve got your lunches? Percy’s in the Prefect compartment if you need anything. Auror Bones, thank you so much for riding with them. I feel so much better knowing that you’re here.” As she spoke, Mrs. Weasley had pulled them all into embraces, even Gemma. Mrs. Weasley tried to engage Luna, but she was still deeply engaged in whatever it was she was doing. 

As soon as Mrs. Weasley had left, Gemma was eager to go see Mei and was tugging on Harry’s arm. 

“No, Gemma. I think it is best if Harry stays here with me,” Auror Bones commented. “He’ll be able to catch up with friends once we’re safely arrived at Hogwarts.”

Harry grumbled quietly and slumped against the seat. 

“What’s the point of traveling on the train if I’m not allowed do anything?” he wondered. “I should have just apparated directly to Hogsmeade.”

Ginny volunteered to go with Gemma and they hurried down the corridor.

“Hey, mate. It won’t be so long,” Ron said. “And I don’t get why you want to see that ole’ puffer fish anyway.” 

“Oi!” Harry protested. 

“Sorry. You’ve got to admit that she’s pretty prickly.”

 “They. And maybe they have their reasons.”

“They. Whatever. Like what?”

“They aren’t so prickly if you’re not constantly poking them.”

“You sure made some weird friends at that Center,” Ron sighed. 

Hermione started protesting in Harry’s defense and Harry quickly summoned his Exploding Snap cards out of his staff to avoid a fight. He just didn’t have the energy for it. The train hissed and started slowly chugging down the track as Harry shuffled the cards and started dealing. 

They were on their second game when Gemma and Ginny returned, clinking of shell necklaces gifted to them by Mei. 

Nio had retreated to Harry’s belly to avoid the sparks from the exploding cards. 

“Oi! You need to open a window in here… it smells like rotten eggs!” Ginny protested. 

“The trolley is on its way,” Gemma signed onto Harry’s back. His fingers were occupied with reading the next card in his deck. 

Harry repeated the news aloud to Ron, part in an attempt to distract him from the game and part because he could hear Ron’s stomach growling and knew his friend wasn’t too keen to eat the sandwiches that Mrs. Weasley had packed. 

Ron jumped up several times to check the progress of the trolley giving Harry many opportunities to gain a small lead in their game (he was getting faster at reading braille, though he was not fast enough to beat Ron yet). 

When the trolley finally arrived, Harry purchased a number of caldron cakes (still warm) and other treats and then traded some of them for half of Ron’s corned beef sandwich. They were blissfully satiated, game abandoned and heads thrown back against the compartment benches when the train’s brakes screeched and gradually the train slowed to a halt on the tracks. Ron, Ginny, Gemma, and Hermione crowded around the windows trying to see what was going on, whispering in the eerie quiet, while Auror Bones sealed the compartment door again. 

Harry scooted out of their way, putting a protective hand over Nio at his belly and strained to hear anything that could have been the cause of the unexpected stop. A strange chill started to permeate the compartment, revealing drafts that hadn’t been there before. 

“Are there ghosts on the train?” Harry asked, cocking his head to the side and trying to hear any tattletale signs of a ghostly presence. 

“Just Effie… and she says that the soul leeches are coming this way,” Luna said quietly in a tone that captured Harry’s attention—sharp and clear, not fuzzy and faraway.

Harry realized he had felt this cold before… just hours before in the streets in London and the month before at the Weasleys. 

“Dementors? Are you sure?” Harry jumped up, groping for his friends and stubbing his fingers on their backs. Harry attempted to pull the cloak over them, but it was tied to his ankles and he bent over to undo them. 

“You have to get under the cloak… Dementors are on the train!”  Harry’s voice broke with alarm.

“Oh, I’m going to hang Dawlish by his fingernails. This is his doing!” Auror Bones muttered. Harry’s ears popped and he was surprised when he heard the compartment door rattle open and the Auror’s footsteps tear down the corridor as the frigid cold rushed into the compartment. 

Harry was still trying to gather his friends to him and to get everyone under the cloak when a rasping breath made him freeze in place. 

Chapter Text

“No, no, no, no, no! This isn’t happening!” Harry moaned as he felt a ghastly pull on his heart and the compartment floor seemed to tilt toward the advancing icy air. He was still struggling to disentangle himself from his cloak and drape it over the warm bodies jostling him. He couldn’t get the ties at his wrists and ankles undone fast enough.

“What are you doing?”  

“I'm trying to get my cloak over you!” Harry said, exasperation threading his voice.

“You need it more than us, Harry!” Ginny said as she tried to shove it back toward him.

Elbows and shoulders were coming at him from all directions, hands and knees pressing into his side, his back; at one point Harry moaned and held the crown of his head after being head-butted. 

He felt someone slide off the seat and puddle on the floor beneath his feet. 

“Ginny? Ron? Gemma? Who fell?” Harry groped wildly trying to find the prone person in the chaos while still trying to stretch the cloak over his friends. Someone stepped on his fingers and he cried out.

Then a light exploded in Harry’s face, seemingly splitting his head open from chin to nape of his neck.  He grabbed his eyes, shielding them from the bright light and curled over the figure at his feet. He realized that the light had been preceded by an authoritative voice casting a spell… one he didn’t recognize.

“Bloody Bollocks!” Ron shouted, turning toward Harry. “Did you see that thing? …. Er, right. Sorry mate.”

“What was it?” Harry said weakly, wincing through the pain in his head and fingers. The room was no longer icebox-frigid and he no longer felt as though he was being drained. 

“A gigantic wolf,” Ginny supplied from the floor. She was breathing in gulps and gasps as if she too were recovering from whatever it was that had loomed over them. 

“A wolf?” Harry said, trying to lift Ginny up and behind him. “Is it gone? I couldn’t hear it at all. Are you sure it wasn’t a dog? And why was everything so bright?”

“No, it was definitely a wolf,” Ron shuddered. “Huge. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Gemma was signing on Harry’s back, trying to get his attention. He turned toward her and nearly toppled over as his feet were still tangled in the invisibility cloak. He signed for her to repeat it… he had no idea what she’d been asking. She pulled him closer to her, helping him disentangle the cloak before slipping her hands under his to repeat her question.

“It was Professor ________.” 

It took a moment for Harry to remember what the sign meant. He recognized it as one they had made and then it fell into place, “Professor Lupin,” he repeated in sign language.

“He was here?” Harry asked Gemma, verbally. 

“Who was here?” Hermione asked. “That man? Is that who you’re talking about? Who was he?”

“Professor Lupin… he taught at the Center this summer and he’s going to be the new DA prof this year. But I didn’t think he’d be on the train,” Harry said, just remembering to keep his mouth facing Gemma so that she could read the slips of paper, even as he was talking to Hermione. 

“Well, he cast the spell that drove off the dementors,” Hermione explained. “His wolf-thingy did it.”

“It wasn’t a real wolf?” Harry asked, breathing in deeply. 

“Ha! You thought it was a real wolf?” Ron hooted, shoving his shoulder so that he nearly toppled over again. 

“Yeah. I’m chuffed it wasn’t,” Harry sighed, righting himself by grabbing Ron’s arm. Gemma was still helping him untangle from the cloak and everyone’s limbs. Finally, he was free and the cloak was secured at his ankles and wrists once more (a few of the ties had to be repaired).

He stood for a moment as his heart calmed and then asked, “Wait. There was more than one dementor?” 

Gemma tapped his arm, “Yes. Two.” 

Harry edged back toward the bench and swept his hand over the seat to make sure it was clear before he sat down. His legs were a bit rubbery. 

The train wheezed out a breath as it lurched into motion again, gradually building speed. People had started to move through the corridors and after a moment, their compartment door slid open. 

Harry turned his ear toward it, trying to discern who was there. 

“You lot all right?” Neville asked, breathily, papers already rustling. “Can you believe that there were dementors on the train? You should have seen that Professor… you know the one who was helping Arig this summer? He was bloody hacked off. And that Auror… whew. Well, I got out of her way as quickly as I could. Between the two of them, they drove them off the train. Now they are searching the compartments in case the Dementors were actually onto something.” 

Harry could hear the shudder in Neville’s voice and tried not to imagine what the Dementors could have been searching for.

Neville had closed the compartment door, muting the noises from the corridor and was rustling something in foil as he stumbled over their knees. He paused in front of Harry and Harry instinctively turned his hand up with the understanding that Neville wanted to hand him something. 

“Ah, right. Cheers. Here’s a bit of chocolate, Harry,” Neville said as he placed a weighty chunk in Harry’s palm. “Professor Lupin said we should eat it to recover from the Dementors.” 

“Chocolate?” Harry lifted the piece to his nose and sniffed. It did smell good. He nibbled a bit and as it melted in his mouth, he felt a little better. He took another bite. He was reminded of the chocolate-covered frogs in the Weasley’s kitchen. 

“Remember how the Chocolate is an antidote to the effect of the Dementors?” Hermione was talking quietly to Ginny in the corner, encouraging her to eat the chocolate. Harry broke off a piece to hand to Gemma. She gently pushed his hand away and tapped a piece of chocolate that she already had on the back of his hand in explanation. 

“Oh, right. Sorry,” Harry sent a small smile in her direction. 

“Neville, did you give some to Luna?” Harry asked, whipping his head around to follow the crinkling of the foil. 

“Luna?” Neville asked. 

Harry stuck his hand out from under the cloak and gestured toward the corner where he thought Luna was. He couldn’t discern what she was doing. She was still engaged in a private conversation or maybe she was humming? He wasn’t sure. 

Hermione made a tsking noise and Harry wondered who it was directed at. He could imagine the exasperated look on her face.

“Luna?” Harry asked. 

Her lilting “Hmmm?” was barely audible over the commotion in the compartment. 

“Did you get some chocolate?” Harry asked.

“Oh, there were Dementors?” 

There was a bit of a stunned silence that was only interrupted by Ron’s loud lip-smacking as he ate his chocolate. Harry was almost embarrassed for him, though he rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth just in case there were remnants of the chocolate he’d just consumed. 

“Ron, close your mouth when you chew!” Ginny admonished, sounding very much like Mrs. Weasley. 

That seemed to snap the rest of them out of their wonder. Harry was very confused. How could have Luna missed the Dementors?

“Hi, Luna, I’m Neee…” and there was a thudding noise as Neville tripped and fell against the bench. 

“Bloody hell, Neville!” Ron exclaimed. “Getoffme!”

“Oi! Are you okay?” Harry said, lurching toward the noise and thrusting his hands awkwardly into a tangle of hair. He withdrew them quickly with a muttered, “sorry!”

“I’m fine, I’m fine. So sorry!” Neville said in a high-pitched voice that betrayed his embarrassment. “Would you like some chocolate?”

“Hmmm?” Luna asked. “Oh, no thank you. I can’t eat that… it has an aura of iron.” 

Neville made a questioning noise. 

“Aren’t we surrounded by iron?” Hermione asked in an incredulous whisper. 

“What are you on about, Hermione?” Ron asked.

“The train. The train is surely made of iron or at least steel, which is a composite of iron and carbon.”

“How do you know these things?” Ron asked, bemused.

“Exactly,” Luna agreed and resumed humming. 

Neville settled in across from Harry and Gemma and soon was signing enthusiastically with Gemma. Harry knew this from the occasional jostling of her arms as she spoke with Neville and Neville’s snorts and giggles. The hum of the conversation around him and the warmth in the compartment conspired to make his eyelids feel heavy. The train’s rhythm was soothing and he laid his head back against the seat. At one point, he felt someone pull the hood of the cloak over his face and tuck his hand underneath the silky folds so that it was cupping the little snake at his belly. 

He woke with a start when the train slowed to a stop, brakes squealing, and there was a burst of cool air entering the compartment. 

“Wake up, Harry!” Gemma was tapping on his shoulder. He rubbed his eyes under his glasses that were sat askew on his nose and righted them. 

“Are we at the station already?” he asked. 

Ginny answered, “Yes. We’ve got to gather our things. Auror Bones is making sure the coast is clear. She said we should wait here until she comes back to escort us.”

“Oh, right,” Harry said as he prodded Nio attempting to wake him up. The little snake was grumpy and nuzzling deeper into Harry’s stomach rather than taking his offered hand. 

People were walking by their compartment, making the carriage rock, and the platform outside the train was filling with the voices of reuniting students, the hooting of owls, and the clanging of trunks. 

Harry couldn’t wait to get off the train and out into the cool night air. He felt like he was suffocating, so closed in was the compartment with all his friends who were only staying because he had to wait for the Auror. Gemma laced her fingers in between his and stood at his side. The tremor that he could feel in her arm helped him remember that she was probably even more anxious than he was about this journey. 

He turned to her. “Where’s your brother?” he signed. 

She gave a half-shrug, half-shake of her head as a response… enough to jiggle his arm as if she were trying to shake off the question. 

“Isn’t he on the train?” he asked, realizing that it was odd that Terry hadn’t even checked in on Gemma the entire journey.

She tapped an impatient “yes” on his arm and then pulled him toward the window. Harry put out a hand, feeling the cool glass beneath his fingertips and wondered what caught her attention on the other side.

She was tapping loudly on the glass. “Is he out there?” Harry asked, but her attention must have been on the people milling outside the train and she didn’t notice the slip of paper or stop tapping.

Ginny and Ron were arguing over who had hit who with their trunks as they maneuvered them down from the overhead racks. Hermione was opening the door to the corridor and looking out it every few minutes and commenting on who was approaching each time, though it wasn’t Auror Bones, much to her consternation. She seemed just as impatient as he felt to get off the train. She told Ron and Ginny to take their trunks down to the platform and Harry suspected it was as much to stop them arguing as it was to make more room in the compartment.

“Luna, is Terry Boot out there? Is that who’s attention Gemma is trying to get?” Harry asked the space by the window where Luna had been huddled the whole trip. He realized that he couldn’t hear her humming anymore. 

“Luna?” he asked again, then tentatively stuck his foot out where he thought Luna’s feet would be. 

“Oh, Luna left a bit ago,” Neville said. “Looked like she was going to be sick. I think I’ll see if I can find her…see if she needs anything… a cup of tea or…”

“A bucket?” Harry half-joked remembering all the times he needed one when travelling and Neville snorted in response as he left.

Harry turned back to Gemma who was still tapping on the glass, though more rhythmically now. He touched her arm to get her attention. 

“I don’t think they can hear you. Do you see Terry out there? Do you want to go him? It’s fine if you want to,” Harry said wishing that he could go, too. 

Harry staggered back a step when Gemma turned suddenly into him, her forehead striking his sternum forcibly. He didn’t fall over because she was clutching at his robes and the cloak, burying her face in the cloth, and… he discerned… silently wailing. 

“Gemma?” he asked softly, tapping a soft question of concern on her back and then rubbing consoling circles when she didn’t respond. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, Harry. Is Gemma okay?” Hermione asked. 

Harry shrugged… it seemed obvious to him that she wasn’t okay… but what did he know?

“I don’t know what is going on. She was fine a moment ago. I asked her about her brother and then it was as if she was trying to find him out the window. Can you see what is going on out there?”

“Her brother? Oh, Terry Boot. That’s right. He’s not out there… but … err. Oh, they are terrible! Really! How can they be so cruel?” Hermione huffed as she pushed by him and pulled down the shade with a sharp snap. 

“What were they doing?” Harry asked, still rubbing circles on Gemma’s back, her shudders were diminishing.

“Oh, they… well, they were mocking her with gibberish signs and pulling ugly faces. Sometimes people don’t think at all. Where is Auror Bones? We’re going to miss the carriages.”

Harry asked Gemma by signing on her back if she was doing any better and she nodded against his chest and released her hold on his garments, then cast a nonverbal cleaning spell on them that briefly warmed the spot where her tears had soaked through his layers.

In the intervals when Hermione repeatedly stuck her head into the corridor checking for Auror Bones, she told Gemma about what to expect after they arrived at the castle and then went into great detail about the feast and what the main courses were likely to be this year based on what had been served the last two years. Harry’s mouth started watering at the thought of a treacle tart.   

Harry could hear that the platform was emptying, especially after Hagrid’s booming voice led the first years to the boats. The jingling of harnesses and crunching of carriage wheels over gravel indicated that the older students were also headed to the castle. 

Finally, Hermione announced that Auror Bones was on her way and she bounced up to levitate her trunk and Gemma’s off the overhead racks. Harry was glad he didn’t have to mess with a trunk. All of his things were carefully stored in his staff’s extendable storage. 

“All right. So, it’s just the three of you?” Auror Bones said. “Let’s go. Ms. Granger you go first. I’ll lead Mr. Potter. Ms. Boot, I’ve got him. Don’t worry.”

Harry felt his face heating up. He hated being treated like something delicate. He tried to swallow his discomfort when Auror Bones tapped his hand and he grasped her arm above her elbow.

“Did you find anyone on the train?” Harry asked. “Did the Dementors find Black? Was he here?”

“No sign of Black. It was just too much of a temptation… the train full of young witches and wizards, we think. Mind the stairs. Step down.”

Harry let go of the Auror’s arm to hold onto the railings and used his staff to gauge the last step off the train. He pulled in a deep breath of the crisp autumn air, fragrant from a recent rain mingled with the pungent aroma of crushed heather. A tension that he hadn’t noticed until it was released eased from his shoulders and neck. 

He found Auror Bone’s arm again and they walked across the nearly empty platform to the snorting and stomping horses pulling the carriages. Harry pulled up short. 

“The carriages have horses this year?” he asked. 

“No, thestrals,” answered Auror Bones at the same time that Hermione stated, “No horses, just carriages!” 

“Huh?” Harry asked in confusion, but Auror Bones was taking his hand and placing it on the pull bar next to the carriage door. Harry found the step with his staff and pulled himself into the carriage and then fumbled around a bit until he sorted out where the empty seat was. Gemma and Hermione’s hands grabbed his and pulled him toward his seat. 

The carriage lurched as Auror Bones climbed in, found her seat and pulled the door closed. Harry wished he could have sat in the open air, inhaling more of the wet, heather aromas while the carriage rolled and rumbled over the stone-strewn path to the castle. 

When the carriage levelled out after a particularly steep incline and rounded a corner, Hermione and Gemma gasped and Harry turned his head, his eyes wide open. All of the wind left his lungs, though as he realized that he was trying to see the castle revealed through the haze as they rounded the familiar bend. The spikey towers piercing the grey sky, set in dark relief against the muted purple and gray night sky, bedazzled with flickering lights and that aura of magic that made it shimmer like no other structure that Harry had ever seen. All he had now were his memories of it. He closed his eyes and tried to hold onto the fading vision as the carriage rattled onward. 

Gemma had grabbed his hand and hers trembled in his as her strong fingers pressed into his. He could feel her anticipation… the nervousness and thrill and it helped soothe his grief. 

Harry felt a buzz of magic travel through the carriage and his bones as they passed through the gates onto the grounds of the castle. He was full of nervous energy, his leg bouncing even as he pressed his hand against it to still it. 

“Mr. Potter, you should remove that remarkable cloak now, before we exit the carriage and store it somewhere safe. It’ll be more of a risk to wear it around the castle… not only because there are so many people and you can’t see them to avoid them, but also because it would be better if the whole school doesn’t know you have it,” Auror Bones explained. 

It took a bit for Harry to undo the ties and remove it. He felt cold and exposed without it as he stuffed it into the storage compartment of his staff. Hermione reminded him to put on his school robes and once he had those on, he felt a bit warmer. 

Finally, the carriage stopped and Auror Bones swung the door open and jumped out.

“Come along, Mr. Potter,” she called to him, though it sounded as if her back were to the carriage door. Harry shook his staff out, careful that it was pointing out the door when it lengthened and then felt around for the steps down. Harry stood by the carriage door and offered his hand to Gemma and then Hermione as they descended. 

The horses were stamping and snorting, shaking their harnesses so that metal fittings jingled. Harry wanted to ask Auror Bones about what she’d called them. There was an odor about them that he couldn’t place and he didn’t associate with horses… not that he’d been around horses much.

But the Auror was impatient to get into the castle and catch up with everyone and was already going up the stairs. It appeared that they were the last carriage to arrive from Hogsmeade. Gemma signed for him to hurry up as she didn’t want to miss the sorting. 

“What house do you think you’ll be sorted into, Gemma?” Hermione asked as they followed the Auror up the stairs. 

“Gemma, there you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Someone called frantically from the top of the stairs. Harry guessed it was her brother. Harry squeezed Gemma’s arm and pointed with his other hand in the direction of Terry’s voice. She tore away from him, bolting up the steps. 

“Hey, hey. Gemmie. It’s all right. No, I’m sorry. I should have… ” 

Harry was glad he had also been using his staff when Gemma ran away from him, even though it still took him a second to get his bearings on the steps. 

“Oh, that’s good,” Hermione said quietly to Harry. “She looks much happier now. They must have had a row.”

“Mr. Potter, I need a quick word with the headmaster—are you all right to find the great hall on your own?” Auror Bones said once they had entered the castle. 

Harry was distracted for a moment while the aromas of Hogwarts washed over him… different from the summer when it had been empty of the hordes of teenagers who had their distinctive odors. 

“He’s not on his own, Auror,” Hermione said affronted. 

“How right you are, Ms. Granger,” Auror Bones agreed while Harry caught up and started sputtering. 

“Yes, I think I can manage,” Harry said, just managing to suppress his annoyance. 

“All right, then. I’ll let you know if there are any developments. In the meantime, don’t leave the castle… you’re safest here… and don’t wander off on your own.” 

“What? He can’t go into Hogsmeade? But all third years get to go to Hogsmeade!” Hermione was indignant. 

“Ah. Right. Well, it can’t be helped. Perhaps we’ll have caught Black by then,” Auror Bones said, but seemed distracted. She was already walking away from them. 

“They better have!” Hermione said under her breath as she nudged Harry toward the noise of the Great Hall where someone was ringing a sonorous bell in an attempt to start the sorting. The clamor of students talking was lessening to a hush as they turned their attention to the front where the sorting hat and stool must have stood. 

“You’ll tell me when Gemma goes up to be sorted?” Harry asked Hermione as they walked toward the Gryffindor table.

Chapter Text

Harry was grateful that the room was focused on The Sorting as he fumbled around a bit at the bench, figuring out how to sit down without kicking the people on either side of him. He hoped so anyway. The table was very quiet compared to the room around them that buzzed with conversations… it was as if someone had cast a rippling silence spell on the Gryffindor table as they walked to their spots. He had already endured the inevitable hisses and jeers as they walked by the Slytherin table. Not loud enough to draw the teacher’s attention, of course. Slytherin were noted for their slyness for a reason. 

Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had been better, but still, the awkward silences indicated that people were staring at him. Harry hated that his warm neck and cheeks meant that his embarrassment at being the center of attention was so obvious. It was just adding insult to injury.

Hermione had led him to Ron’s warm, sticky hand and then left and he didn’t know where she was or who was sitting on the other side of him or across from him. He’d already put his staff away or he would have tapped it for the identification charm. 

“Hiya, Ron,” he said, leaning into Ron’s shoulder, some of the embarrassment sloughing off as he found familiarity next to his friend. 

“Took you long enough, mate. Where were you?” Ron whispered, returning the nudge. 

“We had to wait for Auror Bones,” Harry said, grudgingly. 

Then the Sorting Hat made an incongruous throat-clearing noise and started singing, a different song than the one Harry remembered from his first year. In it, the hat said something strange that made Harry’s solar plexus burn. The words were fleeting, but coiling inside him. He tried to hold onto them. What did they mean? 

“In this chase, will they ever be caught?

Is the pursuit of freedom all they’ve sought?

Through the darkness, they navigate alone. 

But with each step forward, their strength has grown.”

Why did it seem like the Sorting Hat was talking directly to him? He remembered what Ginny told him about her experience with the Sorting Hat in the Chamber of Secrets. He wondered briefly if everyone heard a different song. 

Momentarily he had forgotten that Nio was in his hands under the table until the feeling of Nio’s smooth scales sliding over and through his fingers brought him back to his body. The song was over and Professor McGonagall had started calling out the names of first years. No one else seemed much fussed over the Hat’s song. He wished he could remember more than just that one part that seemed seared into his brain. What had the rest been about?

The hat had started shouting out House names and the cheering from the reciprocal tables drowned out any other clues about who was being sorted where. Harry couldn’t follow along. Sometimes a new Gryffindor student arriving at the bench was accompanied by a jostling and a rocking as people around Harry made room for the first year. Their squeaky voices made Harry wonder if he’d ever been so young and guileless.

“How many more first years are waiting to be sorted? Where’s Gemma?” Harry asked Ron. 

But it turned out that Harry didn’t need anyone to tell him when it was Gemma’s turn for sorting. He heard Professor McGonagall call her name and then a hush settled on the large room and then whispering murmurs… some were close enough for Harry to hear and he hoped that Gemma just kept her eyes on the hat and didn’t look around to the staring faces because what they were muttering wasn’t kind.
“Oh, Merlin! What happened to her?” “Who is she?” “Can’t anyone do something about those scars?”

Harry tried to direct quelling looks at the people near him but he had no way of knowing if he made eye contact. Some of the murmurs stopped abruptly… so maybe he had. 

At least she can’t hear what they are saying… he thought and then reprimanded himself. 

That’s a terrible thing to think… isn’t it? And he thought about people saying something similar to him. Maybe? Maybe not? It is what it is? He shook his head and tried to focus on what was going on. Gemma must be sitting on the stool with the sorting hat on her head now… the whispers continued, but more hushed. 

Nio hissed in protest and Harry realized that he’d been holding on too tightly to the little snake. 

“I’m so sorry, Nio!” Harry replied in parseltongue and tucked the little snake back into his shirt, prompting Ron to nudge him in the ribs with a hiss of his own. 

“What?”

“Don’t do that in here!” Ron said with an unusual intensity. 

Harry flushed again and grumbled, but didn’t push it. He was keeping an ear out for Gemma’s sorting. While he hoped that she’d be sorted into Gryffindor so that she’d be close by, he suspected that she was more likely to be sorted into Hufflepuff. He wondered if the sorting hat was giving her choices… could she hear the hat in her head? He wondered how it worked. He supposed it wasn’t hearing, per say. It was more likely a mind spell that bypassed ears and went straight into one’s thoughts, so she shouldn’t have any trouble with it, right? 

He wondered if Dumbledore would let Gemma wear the sorting hat throughout the year so that it could tell her what people around her were saying, and speak her thoughts to them. He wondered if that would work and what kind of magic had gone into the hat to make it. From the songs the hat had sung that he’d heard so far, it was often bored and just sitting on a shelf gathering dust… maybe it would like to be out and about in the castle. Though it did seem like a bit of a grump… and it was hard to imagine Gemma’s creative energy being transmitted through such a curmudgeon. He smiled thinking of it. 

People around them were starting to fidget and murmur, “Hat stall!”

This was the last sorting before the feast and Harry’s stomach was rumbling.  It was an age since he and Ron had devoured the cauldron cakes and roast beef sandwiches on the train. He ran his hands over the worn and gouged wood table in front of him, hoping to find a goblet of pumpkin juice or a plate of chips. 

“What are you looking for,” Hermione asked. 

Harry’s head shot up and turned in her direction. He had no idea she was across from them. 

“I’m hungry,” he muttered sheepishly and heard Hermione snort.

“Hufflepuff!” the hat finally shouted and the table around him erupted into a roar that Harry knew had more to do with the end of the sorting and the beginning of the feast than Gemma’s placement. His shoulders slumped a bit. He had been hoping she’d be in Gryffindor with them, though he grudgingly admitted that she did have the traits that Hufflepuff valued. And it would be good for her to be around other people who were also kind and fiercely loyal. 

He wondered who at the Hufflepuff table had welcomed Gemma to sit with them. 

“Where is she sitting?” Harry asked Hermione. 

“Hannah Abbott has made a space for her. She’s smiling… I think Gemma’s okay,” Hermione assured. “Oh, and Mei’s brother, Bing is getting up to go sit next to her, too.”

Everyone had quieted down again and there was an expectant hush. Harry turned his ear toward the head table wondering what was going on. 

“Dumbledore is going to speak,” Ron whispered into Harry’s ear. 

“We welcome you all… from the newly sorted first years … and, er, second-year students, to the soon-to-be-graduated seventh years! Welcome to another auspicious year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! And without further ado, let the feast begin!” Professor Dumbledore’s aged voice rang out magically throughout the hall and students all around echoed his jubilant cry as popping noises all down the long table announced the arrival of china, silverware, and goblets and heat emanated from aromatic platters of food. 

Harry sat still as the people around him started dishing up food onto their plates and shouting down the table for others to pass them crossed buns or slices of ham. He was pretty sure that a platter of mash was directly in front of him from the slopping sounds as people scooped it onto their plates. His mouth watered, but he waited until the commotion settled down before he started reaching tentatively across the table.

He was still trying to figure out who was seated near him. He had identified Seamus on his other side, totally engrossed in conversation with Dean. Hermione was talking to Ginny, also across from him and Neville was next to Ginny. It sounded like the twins were on Ron’s other side. Maybe Lavender and Pavarti were next to Hermione? He wasn’t sure. 

“Oi, Harry!” Ron said through a mouth of food. “Did you want some mash?” And before he could answer, Ron had spooned a pile on his plate. 

“Thanks, mate. What else is there?” 

“Buttered beans, buns, ham, roasted carrots…” Ron listed as he filled Harry’s plate. Harry decided that he wasn’t going to be put out by it. Ron was just trying to help. He’d talk to him about it later. For now, he had to figure out where everything was on his plate… at least it was all pretty easy to identify and corral with his fork and knife. He tucked in.

“Whew. I’m knackered,” Ron said as slumped against Harry. He had just ploughed through second helpings with amazing speed and ferocity. 

Harry chuckled and pushed back a bit. He was still eating. 

“Do you think Dumbledore’s speech will be very long?” Ron moaned. 

“Nah, he just has to introduce the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor… that won’t take long,” Harry assured. 

“Well, and I suppose he’s going to talk about the Dementors,” Hermione said. 

“What? That they were on the train?” Harry asked. 

“That they are on the school grounds,” Hermione said grimly. 

“Oi! No. They were just searching for Sirius Black,” Harry countered, his gut seizing at the thought. Saliva pooled in his mouth. 

“I saw them, too,” Ron agreed.

“Blimey, Harry! I heard that Sirius Black bloke is after you!” Seamus said with Dean echoing the sentiment. “Bloody rough, mate. Bad enough that you’re blind. Gah. I think I’d off myself if it were me. No reason to live.”

Harry couldn’t breathe. He felt like he’d taken a bludger to the stomach.

“Seamus! That’s an awful thing to say,” Hermione said, horror making her sputter. Ginny and Neville joined in. 

“What? I’m just saying…” Seamus said. “It’s not like he didn’t already have enough going on. How much can someone take? I’m just saying that I don’t think I’d be able to handle it. Don’t look at me like that, Hermione. I heard you moaning about him being blind last year. You think the same thing!”

“I didn’t!” Hermione said even more horrified, if it was possible. 

“Look, I’m not trying to give him ideas,” Seamus said, more subdued. “It is just rough.”

Harry sucked in a deep breath. 

“Just stop it,” he said, though weakly. “Hermione, I’m not going to off myself. Seamus didn’t mean anything by it, right?”

“I mean, you can’t even play Quidditch anymore!” Seamus exclaimed. 

“I can, too, play Quidditch! I’ve been playing it all summer!” Harry turned in his seat, working to get his legs over the bench so that he could out. He shook out his staff as he stood up and cast the navigation spell. His anger was helping to tamp down his nausea, but he was still worried that he was going to spew all over and needed to get out of there. 

He swung his staff out in front of him and strode with as much dignity as he could muster. Behind him, he could hear Ron and Hermione arguing about who should go after him, over the uproar of other voices. 

“But dessert hasn’t even been served yet!” was Ron’s mournful retort. 

Harry sped up. He didn’t want to have to deal with anyone. His staff indicated that he’d reached the end of the Gryffindor table and could turn north to walk across the gauntlet of House tables. Hufflepuff first, then Ravenclaw, and finally Slytherin with its gatekeepers watching the doors, heckling whoever was coming and going, but always, always, keen to give him a hard time. 

Harry steeled himself aware once again how a hushed silence followed him like a lingering fart. He was tempted to throw on his invisibility cloak once again, but that would just show everyone that he had one. Even if Draco had told every Slytherin who mattered about it after the incident on the train there was no reason to flaunt it. 

He wasn’t passed the Ravenclaw table when he heard the first cries of delight from the Slytherin table. 

“Oi! Potter! That was quick. Didn’t even make it through the feast!” 

“I bet he’s off to the hospital wing!” 

“What’s got your pants in a twist, eh?”

Harry tried to block out the comments while also straining to hear if anyone was getting up to come after him.

His shield sprung up around him and he heard a projectile bounce off it, splatting on the floor to gales of laughter. 

“Nice one! Rainbow shield!

“Why make your shield so pretty if you can’t even see it!”

“Hush, Professor Snape!” 

Harry quickened his pace. He didn’t want to have to explain himself to Snape. 

“Potter. A word,” Professor Snape’s oily tone slid over him. 

He paused as he was going through the echoey foyer of the large ornately carved doors and turned toward the voice. He couldn’t hear the man’s footsteps at all and was surprised when his next words were directly in front of him. 

“End your shield,” Professor Snape intoned.  

Harry hesitated a minute and then complied. He had heard Ron’s distinctive steps catching up with him, but now they slowed. Ron was probably wondering if he’d make it worse by joining Harry. He couldn’t begrudge him that. 

“Yes, Professor Snape?” Harry asked, raising his chin and pointing his nose toward the Professor’s voice. 

“Going somewhere?”

“Yes… sir,” Harry said, trying to keep the sarcasm from his voice. He didn’t want detention on the first day back at Hogwarts. 

“Where?”

“Er. The toilet, sir,” Harry said. 

“Alone?”

“Yes? Is there a new policy?”

“No, but it seems your friend is trying to catch up with you. Perhaps he needs to go, too?” Professor Snape’s tone of voice was hard to decipher and Harry wished he could see his expression. 

He felt like the professor was making fun of him… and he didn’t know why. 

Well, when had he ever needed an excuse to needle me, Harry thought bitterly as the anger rose again in his throat. 

Harry put his hand over his mouth, allowing a burp to escape. 

“Excuse me, sir. I need to go!” Harry muttered, holding his hand over the wriggling snake at his belly and swung his staff out again, the silver tip tinging against the door to his left. He staggered a bit to give credence to his performance. 

“Harry’s sick, Professor. I’ll help him,” Ron said, finally coming up alongside him and grabbing his arm. Harry let Ron lead him out of the Great Hall, pulling him along by his forearm, even though he didn’t like it. Behind them, Professor Snape was laying into the Slytherins who had been heckling Harry and he couldn’t help smiling as he tripped behind Ron. 

“Are you actually going to be sick, mate?” Ron whispered. 

“Naw,” Harry said, though the feeling still lingered. “But we’d better go to the loo, just in case he’s still watching.”

“Yeah, this way,” Ron said, pulling Harry through the door. Harry put out his forearm just in time and avoided smacking his forehead on the door frame. 

The musty smell of the toilets rose up to Harry’s nose and he steadied himself. He shook Ron off and took a few tentative steps forward as he tried to recall the exact layout of the room. A swing of his staff to his right helped him find his bearings and he walked more confidently to the stall door. 

Ron’s footsteps had taken him to the wall of urinals, but Harry felt like the privacy of a stall. He minimized his staff and tucked it into his holster and was unbuckling his pants when the toilet belched and a voice addressed him, echoing in the bowl. 

“Harry Potter! How delightful to find you here!” Moaning Myrtle crowed as the water in the toilet continued to gurgle. 

Harry lurched backwards, his back rattling the door. 

“Oi, Harry! Are you okay?” Ron shouted from across the room.

“No, there’s a ghost in here, trying to ogle me!” 

“Aw! I wasn’t,” Myrtle said, 

“What are you doing in the loo, then?” Harry argued. 

“No one visits me in my loo anymore,” she whined.

“Well, its no wonder with you popping up unexpectedly!” 

“Come on, Myrtle, can’t a bloke have a piss in private?” Ron said from the other side of the door. 

“Please, Myrtle. I need to go,” Harry said. 

“Oh, all right!” she huffed. 

Harry shivered as she rushed past him, water splashing on his feet. 

“Bloody hell, Myrtle!” Ron shouted. 

“She’s out there?” Harry asked.

“Yes. She’s gone, up through the ceiling,” Ron said. 

“She’s not looking down, is she?” Harry asked, pausing. 

“How many times do you think she’s been spying on us? Down right creepy, that is. We should take it up with Dumbledore. It’s just not right,” Ron said. 

“Can a ghost be banished?” Harry asked, unlatching the door and making his way to the sinks. 

“Sure, I think so. I mean, if anyone can do it, it’s Dumbledore, right?”

“I suppose so,” Harry said, as he felt around for the hand towel. “At the very least, cast some sort of charm so that people can have privacy in the toilet and bath.”

“More to your left, mate,” Ron said. 

“Ta.” 

“So, back to the feast? I’ve been thinking about the Butterbeer Cake all summer,” Ron said. 

“Er, I was thinking about just going up to our room. I’ve had enough of everyone tonight.”

“By yourself?” Ron asked. 

“It actually sounds kind of nice. I guess I got used to being alone this summer,” Harry confessed. 

“Don’t you want a treacle tart?”

Harry smiled, but shook his head, rubbing his tummy just above where Nio was nestled. 

“You go ahead. There’s a Butterbeer cake in there calling your name. I’ll be all right,” Harry assured, making his shield pop out and force Ron into the wall as they walked toward the door.

“Buggering hell! You’re right a menace, you know?!” Ron said, laughing and pushing against the shield. 

“Keep an eye out for the moving staircases!” Ron shouted over his shoulder as they parted ways. From the hubbub coming from behind the doors to the Great Hall it was clear that dessert had been served. 

Harry responded with a sign that he’d learned before the summer. Ron’s snort let him know that he’d seen it. 

Harry was glad to move away from general roar of the Great Hall—bursting forth as Ron opened the doors to return. He yawned widely as he found the handle to the large doors leading out of the entrance hall and into the courtyard that provided a shortcut through the hospital wing to Gryffindor tower. 

Harry was braced for the sunlight, but was relieved to find that it was setting. He sucked in a lungful of the cooling heathered air and made his way down the uneven stone steps to the spongy earth. He asked his staff to direct him to the raised garden beds that also served as curving benches around the perimeter of the courtyard and when his staff struck the stone, he felt around for a spot in the moist soil where he could dig up some worms for Nio.

He found a seat on the sun-warmed stones and spoke to Nio, “I bet you’re hungry, Little Friend.”

Nio was pleased by the upturned soil and slid from Harry’s hands to investigate for himself while Harry dug deeper into the soil, hoping to uncover some delicacies for his friend.  

He pulled his hand quickly out of the soil, though, when something pierced the pad of his thumb.

“Ow. Blimey. That hurt,” he muttered to himself. Gingerly he brushed the dirt off his hands and then gently felt his thumb and pulled a thorn out of it. He stuck it in his mouth to ease the pain.

“Oh, is the whittle baby Potter sucking his thumb?” said a mocking voice from the top of the steps to his left.

Harry closed his eyes in disbelief. What were the chances that he’d be cornered alone out here? Malfoy had to have followed him.

Chapter Text

“I heard you say ‘blimey’ just now, Potter,” Draco smirked so hard it was evident in his voice.

“What of it?” Harry asked, pressing his throbbing thumb into the palm of his other hand while his mind was racing through ways he could get out of this predicament.  

“You don’t know where that comes from? What it means?” Draco hooted in delight. 

“Er, no,” Harry said as he returned his hand to the soil, trying to find Nio as stealthfully as he could. 

The slow pace and emphatic noise of his steps made it sound like Draco was making his way down the stone steps in an exaggerated fashion and Harry couldn’t help but imagine that he was entering the garden like it was his big scene in a play. He would have laughed if he wasn’t worried about finding Nio .

“Well, if you don’t already know…” Draco trailed off as if his attention had been caught by something. 

Harry shifted his shoulders, hoping that he was blocking Draco’s view of the patch of dirt where Nio was blissfully munching on some insects. 

“Wait, is that…?” Draco had abandoned his dramatic entrance and had hurried over to Harry’s side. 

Harry hissed at Nio under his breath to hurry up and climb back up his arm, but the snake was reluctant to leave his meal. 

“Oh, it’s just a garden snake,” Draco said. 

“Still missing your runespore?” Harry asked with deceptive calm. 

“You haven’t seen them, have you?” said Draco, resuming his condescending tone. “Oh, right. You’re blind. It is quite impressive actually. I didn’t think you could get any more pathetic, scar head? And yet you’ve managed it.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Being blind isn’t so bad. At least I don’t have to look at your minging maw anymore,” Harry said as Nio finally started crawling around his wrist and under his sleeve. He sighed in relief as he stood up and summoned his staff, shaking it out in front of him. 

“Good one, Harry!” George hooted from the other side of the courtyard. 

“Do you need help getting rid of this git?” Fred said. 

“Nah, I’ve got it. Ta,” Harry said, turning a sly smile on Draco, who had gasped when the staff struck him and stepped back a few paces. “Oh, sorry . Didn’t see you there.”

He swung his staff around him in an arc and smirked as Draco jumped to avoid the silver tip. 

“You’re getting braver, Malfoy,” Harry said. “Where are your goons? This is the second time you’ve been out and about on your own. Or did they finally find some real friends?”

“Hit me with that stick again and I’ll…” Draco threatened.

“Tell your father?” Harry said. “How is he these days? Did it take him long to recover after Dobby threw him against the wall?”

“You… you…!” Draco sputtered. 

“Better slip back to your Slytherin mates, Malfoy,” Fred chortled, stepping next to Harry and putting a hand on his shoulder. 

Harry managed to suppress the flinch of surprise when Fred touched him. He didn’t need to give Draco any more fuel for his campaign. 

By the time George was also by his side, Malfoy had clattered back up the steps and the hinges on the courtyard door had squeaked soon followed by the thud of the doors echoing around the courtyard. 

Harry let out a sigh and turned toward the twins. 

“Er. Thanks. Were you also following me?”

“No, we followed that berk when we saw him sneaking out of the great hall after your dramatic exit,” George said. 

“Seemed like he was up to no good,” Fred added. “And you missed the treacle tart.”

“It was too much in there,” Harry sighed, grinding the tip of his staff into a spongy spot between paving stones. 

One of them clapped him on the back, startling him and he yelped. 

“Oh, right. Sorry, mate. Keep forgetting you can’t see those coming,” George apologized. 

“Wanna head back to the feast or … we could go down to the kitchens and see if we can pinch a tart for you,” Fred suggested.

“Nah, I’m good,” Harry said, feeling grateful but not up for antics. “I think I’ll just head up to the Tower.”

“All right, if you’re sure,” Fred said, starting to walk back to the stairs. 

“I’ll go with you. Make sure that soggy kitchen rag of a Slytherin isn’t lurking around,” George said. 

Harry’s lips curved upwards in a slight smile as he turned his chin toward George. He wanted to be alone and not alone at the same time. He hadn’t been around just one of the twins much and it was a bit of a different experience without the constant banter ping-ponging between them. 

“Do you want to hold onto my arm?” George asked awkwardly. 

“Naw. It’s okay. I’ll just use my staff,” Harry said, stepping forward and tapping the stone base of the raised bed on his right with the tip. 

“It tells you stuff, doesn’t it?” George asked from behind Harry. 

“Yeah, it has a navigation charm on it,” Harry said over his shoulder as he walked in the general direction of the stairs that led to the north hallway. 

“But I don’t hear anything,” George said. 

“It just talks in my ear… pretty handy, really,” Harry explained, tapping the aftí on his ear.  

“Doesn’t it do more than that, though?” George asked. 

“Yep, it vibrates, too. Kind of nudges me along with signals. Otherwise the constant talking would be annoying. It vibrates on one side or the other of the staff to help me stay on a path, for instance.” Harry deliberately stepped off the garden path and held his staff out to George so that he could feel the vibrations. 

“Oh, that’s tidy,” George said. 

As they made their way to Gryffindor tower, Harry realized that he was registering familiar landmarks differently than he had before. Instead of noticing portraits or grand statues that marked the different wings and corridors, he was aware of odors. The corridor from the garden to the great staircase had a mustiness as though moss grew between the stones and the great staircase smelled pleasantly of wood polish. Also, the staircase creaked and groaned as it moved slowly, anticipating where they wanted to go. He must have been aware of these smells and sounds before to recognize them now, but without the distraction of sight, they were more present than they’d ever been before. 

“You all right, there?” George asked after a long silence. 

“Oh, yes. Sorry. Did you say something?” 

“Just rambling on about the Falmouth Falcons. Fred, Lee, Ron, and I got to see them play a few weeks ago, but of course Ron was rooting for the Chudley Cannons. Splattered them all over the field, though, so that’s probably why he didn’t mention it. Takes it pretty personally, doesn’t he? And they haven’t won a game since Dumbledore was in nappies,” George stated a bit gleefully. 

Harry sighed. What he would have given a few months ago to watch a bonafide Quidditch game in person and be able to discuss all the brilliant moves with Ron and his Gryffindor teammates. 

“Er, sorry. I imagine that’s why Ron didn’t mention it,” George said glummly as he took in Harry’s crestfallen face. “And I always thought he was the clueless arse.”

Harry snorted at that and corrected his course when his staff vibrated to let him know he was listing to the right a little too much.

They were in the corridor, approaching the Gryffindor portrait. Harry could hear her familiar voice bantering with nearby portraits. 

He felt his face heat up as he realized that she was talking about him. He stuttered to a halt.

“...yes, yes… blind. Poor boy. I’ll do what I can for him, of course. But really, it’s just too sad. Oh, speak of the ogre! Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley! Welcome back to school. Mind the step.”

Harry heard the distortion in her voice as the portrait swung open and put out a hand to verify it was where he thought it was. He sped up wanting to get through as quickly as he could to escape her comments, but misjudged his position, caught his foot on the wall and tumbled into the room. 

Behind him, he could hear the portrait making a fuss and asking what had happened while George hurried through to kneel by him.

Harry rolled on his back and grabbed his knee. He was grateful for the cushioning charm his staff had put out around him—it likely saved his wrist from breaking, but his knee had hit the floor before it erupted around him and it smarted. 

He rocked back and forth a bit and then sat up, feeling the floor around him for his staff. 

“You all right, mate?” George asked. 

“Just a bruise,” Harry said, rubbing his knee. 

He stood up and inhaled a full breath. He needed to get his bearings again as his fall made him uncertain which direction he was facing. As he squeezed the staff to get a description of the room, he took a moment to appreciate the familiar aromas of the Gryffindor common room. It didn’t smell strongly of the adolescents who’d soon be inhabiting the room, but more of the underlying odors of magical wood polish (so different from Aunt Petunia’s chemicals), lingering wood burning from the hearth, candles, old books, and the distinctive mustiness of the old castle. It was also oddly silent. He supposed he was thankful it was just George who had witnessed his dramatic entrance. 

“I’m going to have to work on that,” Harry said ruefully. 

“Or the entrance could be tailored to make it easier for you to get through,” George said. 

“Naw. I’m sure I can get the hang of it. I was just not paying enough attention,” Harry said, cringing at the thought of modifications on his account.

“It wouldn’t be too hard,” George said, his voice directed at the wall that they had just come through. 

“Er. No need to fuss. I’ll manage. I’m just going to go to my room… get settled before everyone’s back,” Harry said to George. Though he really didn’t need it, he asked his staff to navigate to the third-year dormitory and limped slightly as he followed the guiding vibrations to the staircase. After a moment, George followed behind him and then paused when Harry turned into his room. 

“Let me know if you need anything,” George said with an uncertainty that made Harry pause.

“All right. I will. Thanks, George,” Harry replied and then turned back to the room. He stood a moment wondering if it had changed at all since the last time he saw it. He supposed it was tidy. As tidy as it would be before his roommates arrived and started piling scrolls, books, and clothes haphazardly, letting loose fanged frisbees and snitches, and leaving half drunk goblets of pumpkin juice on empty surfaces. He squeezed the staff again to verify the layout of the room and was thankful that nothing had changed. 

Harry took a moment to find his bed and feel the familiar bed curtains and bedspread, then he toed off his shoes and placed them deliberately under the end of the bed so that he could find them easily next morning, then changed into his pajamas. He was glad to have the room to himself. He padded to the water closet to brush his teeth and was splashing water on his face when he felt the rumble of many Gryffindor feet returning to the tower. He managed to make it back to his bed before his roommates came charging into the dormitory calling his name. 

“What are you up to, mate?” Dean asked, laughing.  “Can you believe this guy? Already in tucked into bed.” 

Someone had jumped on his bed. Seamus he guessed as Dean was still chortling somewhere near the door. 

“Come on, Harry. It’s our first night back. We’ve got traditions! None of this hiding behind your bed curtains,” Seamus said. 

Harry groaned as Dean dragged him from his bed and pulled him toward the door. He supposed it was better than them tiptoeing around him… thinking he was fragile or something… but he wasn’t quite sure if he was ready to join in the fray. It was a lot. 

Ron had slipped in on his other side and warned him of the stairs before he fell down them. 

“You all right, mate? Why are you limping? Do you want me to tell them to knock it off?” Ron whispered in his ear as he nudged Harry’s arm with his own, offering to guide him. 

“Nah. Just banged up my knee coming through the portrait hole. It’s okay,” Harry said, as he squeezed Ron’s arm gratefully. “Thanks, though.”

The common room was a buzz with everyone catching up with their friends and comparing timetables. Harry could hear the distinctive noise of the parchment as they passed them around or flapped them in the air. 

Dean let go of Harry and disappeared into the crowd with a laugh that told Harry that he’d been distracted by someone’s antics. Seamus, no doubt. Ron turned toward the heat of the hearth, putting his arm behind him so that Harry wouldn’t walk into their classmates as they made their way through the throng. People patted Harry on the shoulder unexpectedly, exclaimed how he was already in his pajamas, or pushed past him to get to someone else. It was pure chaos and Harry held on firmly to Ron’s arm. 

“I’ve got your timetable, Harry,” Hermione said, bouncing him as she sat next to him on their favorite settee. 

“Oh, can I see?” Harry asked, holding his hand out. 

Hermione’s hesitation was telling. 

“Er. It’s not in braille, is it?” Harry deduced, deflating a bit. 

“No. Sorry. But here, let me try this charm I read about,” Hermione said. 

Harry heard her extract her wand from her robes and then she was tapping the parchment in his hand while chanting, “ scribere ad tactum. ”

He felt the raised dots emerging underneath his fingertips. 

“Oh, that’s brill!” Ron said, leaning over Harry’s shoulder. “The text is still there and the dots, too. Can you actually read it?”

Harry found the top left corner and slid his finger lightly over an embossed image in the corner, determining that it was the Hogwarts coat of arms when the eagle nipped at his fingers and then went on to find the first line, reading aloud, “Name, Harry Potter, Year, 3.”

“Yep, I can read it,” Harry confirmed. 

“Wait, yours is different from ours,” Hermione said, her own parchment rustling close to his.

“Truly?” Harry asked. 

“Just a bit. See you’ve got an O&M period while we’ve got a spare period. What’s O&M? That’s a bummer. Hey, wait a sec. Hermione. Yours is really off. You’ve got extra columns,” Ron exclaimed, chortling. “Hang on. What are you doing? Are you hiding it?”

“Er. No. I’m…” Hermione’s voice got oddly high-pitched. “I’ll get mine sorted out with Professor McGonagall. I was just curious about why Harry’s is different. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“And you were expecting yours to be different?” Ron said with emphasis on the yours. 

“No, yes, er, I mean. I had already noticed that. I’m sure it is nothing to be worried about.” 

“Sure, if you say so,” Ron said with complete disbelief. 

Harry could almost feel the heat emanating off of Hermione and wondered what was going on. 

“Is there something you’re not telling us, Hermione?” Harry asked quietly. 

“I’ll tell you later. I just… I can’t say now,” she said in a hushed tone. 

Ron started to say something, but what ever it was, was absorbed by a cheering on the other side of the room. When it quieted down, Harry was surprised that Ron let it go, until he realized that Ron wasn’t there anymore. He had slipped away and Harry couldn’t tell where he was in the room at all. 

Harry spent some time trying to decipher his timetable but couldn’t make sense of it. It was too noisy in the room… he couldn’t concentrate on the braille and it was too loud to try using his anagnóstis. He pushed the timetable into the storage in his staff, promising himself he’d look at it later and figure out what his first class was before he went to bed.   

Moments later, someone was pushing something against Harry’s hand. He used his other hand to feel what he was being handed and retracted his hand when his fingers were lodged in goo. 

“What is that?”

“Your Treacle tart, mate! You missed it. Fred went to the kitchens and got you a piece,” Ron said laughing.  

Harry stuck his fingers in his mouth to lick off the treacle. 

“Mmmm. That’s delicious,” Harry said as he accepted the plate and felt around for the fork which he could hear sliding around on the side of the plate. “Tell Fred thanks, will you?”

“Not a problem, Harry,” Fred said. 

“Oh, hiya, Fred,” Harry said, smiling sheepishly and turning his nose in Fred’s direction. He took a bite of the treacle tart, loving the way it clung to his fork almost as much as the sweet, jelly confection as it melted in his mouth. 

“You missed a bit,” Ron said, leaning over Harry’s shoulder as Harry was scrapping his fork over the plate’s surface trying to track down any last crumbs. “To the right a little, more, more. There you go.”

Finding that last bite was unexpected and he savored it as he tried to determine what was going on around him.  It settled the plate on his knees, unsure if there was an empty spot on the end table. 

“Oh, I vanish that for you, all right?” someone asked and the weight of the plate disappeared from his knees. 

“Thanks?” Harry said, lifting his face to the unfamiliar voice. 

“It’s me, Harry!” someone said, kneeling down in front of him. “Can’t you tell by my voice?”

“Er. No?” Harry said, his face feeling hot.

 “Uh. Sorry. Oliver Wood.” 

“Oh, right. 

“So you really are blind? I was hoping it was just a cruel joke,” Oliver said, his voice turning down at the edges.

“Right. Me, too,” Harry said, trying to laugh. 

“I heard that you’re still playing Quidditch,” Oliver said conspiratorily. “I’ve got a plan for how we’re going to win the House Cup this year.”